I remember reading Fear and Loathing when I was a kid and losing my head. Because I liked the Beats but they didn't sing, not like I was told they would, but here was a guy that said something I understood in a language I didn't need any literary criticism to interpret. He was totally fucked in the head and acknowledged it, and not knowing the story I'm reluctant to comment much on the circumstances of his death, but I'm not surprised Thompson went out on his own terms. I hope the rest is comfortable and easy.
There are a lot of things to say here, about walking the City and rediscovering a lot of things I thought I knew. About the way hair falls on a pillow and the particular eccentricities of my cat. How I'm doing pretty much nothing these days, as far as the business is concerned, although I'm thinking theatre looks kind of attractive. How those crazy kids over at IMDB managed to find my mother in a glorified extra role she had in some psuedo-Bollywood production. I'll do all that, I will. Give me a few days. I turn 33 in a week and I'm being self-indulgent and introspective but mostly this is to let you know I'm still here.
Come on over. Let's grab a drink.
Hi
adamsryan. Welcome around.