Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas:
A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream
by Hunter S. Thompson
"...Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas. To relax as it were, in the womb of the desert sun. Just roll the roof back and screw it on, grease the face with white tanning butter and move out with the music at top volume, and at least a pint of ether" (12).
"But our trip was different. It was a clasic affirmation of everything right and true and decent in the national character. It was a gross, physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country--but only for those with true grit. And we were chock full of that" (18).
"I began to drink heavily, think heavily, and make many heavy notes..." (40).
"Every now and then you run up on one of those days when everything's in vain...a stone bummer from start to finish; and if you know what's good for you, on days like these you sort of hunker down in a safe corner and watch. Maybe think a bit. Lay back on a cheap wooden chair, screened off from the traffic, and shrewdly rip the poptops out of five or eight Budweisers...smoke off a pack of King Marlboros, eat a peanut-butter sanwich, and finally toward evening gobble up a wad of good mescaline...then drive out, later on, to the beach. Get out in the surf, in the fog, and slosh along on numb-frozen feet about ten yards out from the tideline..." (199).
Notes: Great pacing, something I've always loved from Thompson. No matter how insane, grotesque, ridiculous, I'm following him from page to page with complete adoration and trust. It is interesting to see how his craft changed from Rum Diary, but that underlying skill is still there. I could hear all the dialogue in my head, for better and for worse, in a bevy of Thompson impressions.
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