Hunter S. Thompson put a cap in his own ass yesterday.
Depending on how much of his work you have absorbed, and how you interpret it, this is either a fitting end or not. I haven’t read much, so I’m not going to try and interpret right now. Instead, I’d like to share my Thompson story with you.
The year was 2001, the impact of 9/11 was just starting to sink in, and it was really goddamn cold and snowy. It was one of those days when the weather was so impressively shitty that lights just didn’t seem to be able to cut through the perpetual darkness. I was a student in Mr. West’s Engl 102 class, a class that had been weeded down to the very dedicated and the very fucked by the dual facts that West was a real hard-ass to those who obviously didn’t try, which was most of the school, and that it was at 8 goddamn AM. (more)
Continue reading “We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.”
The only problem with my car was the inside CV joint. One rebuilt front axle, $90 bucks, couple hours of labor, and BAM! So the Mavmobile is back online.
Also, I’m working 0900-1800 M-F through March. Fuckin’ A. But that means there’s no chance for me to get into the Cisco classes, so I guess I’m going to have to teach my own dumb ass how to do this shit.
Anybody wanna work with me?
Everything was starting to go so well. I had a job that I could at least endure, if not like; I was saving up for a new Powerbook; I was starting to actually take the time and ask myself what I want to do.
And then my car died.
It’s some sort of transmission issue. I don’t know enough about it to know precisely what it is, but it sounds really goddamn expensive. Oh well, what do I know, I didn’t ever want to go back to school anyway.
This shit always fucking happens. There’s no equilibrium, no balance, only bad shit waiting around the corner.
One of my favorite actors, Ossie Davis, died today after an ongoing bout with cancer. No news as to whether the operation iin which the government removed part of his brain and replaced it with a bag of sand had any connection to his death.
Godspeed, Mr. President.
So, as some of you know, for the last several weeks I’ve been thinking about going back to my old job. They made me a fair offer, it’d be a tough, challenging job, and look very good on a resume. And I just called and turned it down, after jerking my ex-boss around for quite some time (something I will feel bad about for a long time, no doubt.)
Why?
Because. (more)
Continue reading “Commitment is scary”
