the acid wave.
how long can we maintain? i wondered. how long before one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? what will he think then? this same lonely desert was the last known home of the manson family. will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? if so--well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere. because it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. he'll report us at once to some kind of outback nazi law enforement agency, and they'll run us down like dogs."
there was madness in any direction, at any hour. if not across the bay, then up the golden gate or down 101 to los altos or la honda. . . you could strike sparks anywhere. there was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . .
and that, i think, was the handle--that seems of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. our energy would simply prevail. there was no point in fighting--on our side or theirs. we had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . .
so now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in las vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-wave mark--that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
(fear and loathing in las vegas)