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Tuesday, July 05, 2005
I had a pleasant 4th in Maine, but those details aren't what compels me to write. While in Maine, I finished the terse and tedious prose of Shackleton's South and moved on to something more twisted, and convoluted in its expression. in doing so, i stumbled onto a clarity of vision and understanding that will alter my lifestyle. Yes, I can say that drug literature has saved my soul. After finishing Shackleton, i looked at the stack of heavies that I had brought to Maine and picked out what must be the lightest of the stack. It's anthologized coverage of the 1972 presidential election. The levity is that all of the coverage (well 98% of it) is from Rolling Stone. Rolling Stone's campaign correspondent was none other than Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. Fear and Loathing on the Campaign trail captures thee spirit and major events of the campaign, but glosses over the nuts and bolt details. Hunter was a by-weekly columnist. No news was new news.... his gig was to capture the spirit, the mayhem, and perhaps even the humor in the campaign, or at least the act of covering it. The book is brilliant. It's winding sentences call out visions in the mind, and exemplify the journalistic skills Thompson acquired, not from some fancy literary school, but from copying F. Scott's Fitzgerald’s arduously crafted prose until the structure and lyrical fire became second nature. Thompson was freed by wrote, disciplined, and self directed education. He once embraced a work ethic that a whole generation avoided... In fact, it seems as though Thompson did his best to escape it as well... Regardless, the twisted brain candy has seeped into my mind. The Millipore demons that tormented my sleep have been vanquished by twisted dreams interpreting fear and loathing in terms of an impossible Jefferson/Jackson's campaign. The solution to all of my work problems is the need for intellectual stimulation out side of the office. Nothing is quite as stimulating as drug literature, which bypasses much of the cerebrum and communicates with some sort of primal Morse code direct to the pineal gland. |
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