Desperate times call for desperate measures. In his case, his life was a collage of desperate, crazed and dangerous times. How he found me is almost mystical. Perhaps I needed a jolt of sorts to jump start the soul. Then again, it was following 2001 and the devastation that 9/11 left not just in the American identity but also in the global psyche, that perhaps surfaced his wicked soul. Don’t get me wrong; he was around for a lot longer prior to those treacherous events - scouring the globe during his journalistic missions, which usually consisted of Chivas, guns or some sort of chemical. It is befitting, given his impact on me as a writer, but most importantly as a citizen of the world, that I pay homage to one Hunter Stockton Thompson on his birthday July 18th.
Simply put, his writing kicked my ass hard. It wasn’t just a kick in the shins by a 7 year old girl (which has happened...), but more importantly it was a wake up call – a punch to the heart and a bat across the back of the head all in one. Whatever compelled me to read his work I’ll never truly know. Perhaps it was a dangerous mixture of wanting to act like a savage and rebel against the institution. Perhaps it was Hunter’s penchant for kicking ass and taking names. There was a message to be extracted from the ramblings of this man from Louisville, Kentucky. Live life. Live it as if you knew that everyday of your life was to be your last. Behind the facade of his chaotic and irresponsible life was the message to live and live well. It is a lifestyle more than just a simple statement or a Facebook status quote. It is part of the fabric that makes us who we are, a part usually discarded or forgotten, or put to rest somewhere in the basement of our lives. I’ve met my share of individuals throughout my travels and I can count perhaps 4 or 5 who got it right. They got it right because they did not discard it or store it for a later occasion. They ran with it. I ran with it. I continue to run with it. And I hope my kids also continue to run with it, because it is a concept as critical and soul branding as air is to us. Live.
The many nights in San Juan; the time in Hawaii searching for Lono; the many many rum filled nights full of music and laughter and camaraderie. Thanks Hunter for kicking me in the face during dark times and flailing attempts at living. Thanks for the craziness and unabashed chaos. You left a legacy which will move forever undaunted by the weight of those who simply choose to slug along. Happy birthday you old goat – put in a good word for me. You got it right.
“Walk tall, kick ass… love music, and never forget you come from a long line of truth seekers, lovers, and warriors.” HST
"So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?" HST
