We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.
Hunter S. Thompson is dead.
What an amazing journey he took us on. I haven't read everything that he wrote, but I've loved everything that I've read by him. When I picked up "Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas" I couldn't put it down and raced through it. The sentences and paragraphs flowed in a demented and brilliant stream that almost seemed impossible. In a strange way he blazed the path for many types of personal writing and could be seen in some ways as a patron saint of bloggers. But he wasn't a blogger - he was a writer who sought out the truth and didn't let the facts stand in the way. Always entertaining in his writing and his life and not afraid to say things that needed to be said. He documented the death of the American Dream with an eloquence and a swagger that few can ever match. It's a sad day when you lose a powerful intellect and a strong voice. I'm having a drink and thinking of a great writer now. Good bye and cheers to the founder of the journalism known as "gonzo".
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