For the past two weeks I have been reading the book "Gonzo; The Life of Hunter S. Thompson" and its beginning to stick to the roof of my mouth. His way of living and choices about how to treat family, friends and associates provide evidence to me that values, morals, laws, scriptures, promises, and the truth are all quixotic misnomers given to broad interpretation by any single human - and that consequences are an illusion.
Dealing as I do in misnomer and illusion, especially when it comes to personal responsibility, this story about an angry, violent, drug addict anti-hero has really put me into a snappy mood (snappy-happy that is!) Dancing on fire am I, turning cartwheels over the burning sands of time, and of course renewing my due date from the library in order to sleep a few more nights between the covers of this tome.
Here is what I know: taking that 30-pound chip from your shoulder out into the streets and beating your fellow man over the head with it can be fun and financially rewarding. Been there, done that, got the tat. However, along with all of the good times come those moments of reflection on what meaning is drawn from life's experiences, what has depth, what rings true, where our foundations are.
The tinderboxes of politics and pop culture are two of my favorite to play in, and Mr. Thompson was a master of arts (OK, a Doctor of Philosophy) in both realms. There was literally nothing he would not do, or no drug he would not take, or dose you with, as a selfish act - and he never said he was sorry. Gotta love a guy like that! Teach your children well, people.
OK, back to the book. I'm only half-way through and just know that the ending is going to be a real mind-blower!
Yours,
B
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