the Rum Diary
So The Rum Diary, by the legendary Dr. Gonzo, is hitting theaters October 28th. I’m pretty excited for this film because Hunter S. Thompson has been my favorite writer for years. In fact, it was reading his book on the Hell Angel’s years ago that inspired me to become a writer. Maybe if it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t be spelling out these words beyond my eyes now.
I remember I was reading the Rum Diary back when I was a projectionist. I don’t think I ever made it through the book entirely but I’d like to try reading it again before seeing the movie. I think it’s a great idea that Johnny Depp and crew decided to make it. It’s probably not one of the best books ever written, but I think it’s cool that they’re laying down this film so adolescents in the years ahead can see how mundane their culture has become.
Though I think Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas might possibly be one of the best books ever written. And I’ve read a lot of books since High School. I’m even reading War and Peace at the moment. But I think I might still go with Fear and Loathing.
There was a time a few years ago I’ll never forget. I was at a Roller Derby match in Baltimore. I happened to see a Flying Dog RV drive past me and I ran aside it on the sidewalk, carrying my guitar, shouting how much I love Hunter S. Thompson. This was just a few years after he had killed himself. (Flying Dog Brewery uses the artwork of Ralph Steadman on their labels. Steadman did the illustrations for much of Hunter’s work.) Well I ended up talking to the employee of Flying Dog and he said I could drink as much beer as I wanted if I helped him set up the kegs (which I did). Then, later on, in the fashion of gonzo journalism (now that I think of it, this is a poor attempt at it); I smoked a bowl with him and a friend of his in the RV of Flying Dog. Afterwards I was stumbling through the hallways of the arena and I thought everyone had time traveled (I was also on other substances). Twenty minutes before than I recognized the crowds, but the only thing I saw after leaving the van was a lot of mothers and babies in their arms. I hardly saw any of the attendants and so few of the bout girls racing. I didn’t know where anybody was. It was terrifying. And so I took refuge in the only person who I thought was still in the same place, Raawr (Lexi Liu), and alerted her at once that we had time traveled. But if I was really thinking clearly, I would’ve known it was an alternate dimension - not time travel. Then maybe 10 minutes after that I came to my senses and realized I was just stoned. (But it did make sense).
If Hunter S. Thompson is up there in the Great Magnet in the Sky, he was probably looking down on me that day and having a good laugh (probably the reason why I was pepper sprayed by the pigs in Towson and I was down on my knees with the dry heaves, feeling it 1,000x more intensely cause I was high on cough syrup). He is the man that taught me creativity, wit, imagination, fearlessness, and writing. His legend will survive forever as long as there’s a culture and persons who are willing to live on the edge and challenge the status quo.
“Among journalists I have but one hero, and that is Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. I honor him because he reports the simple facts, in plain language, of what he sees around him. His style is mistaken for fantastic, drug-crazed exaggeration, but that was to be expected. As always in this country, they only laugh at you when you tell the truth. Dr. Thompson’s problem is how to equal, without merely imitating, the scholarly precision of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. He is really much more than a journalist. Not a journalist at all, but one who sees. A seer.” Edward Abbey
