Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas … with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.

Hunter S. Thompson

eye—of—fatima:

credit goes to zugart

credit goes to zugart

We’re all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed that fueled the 60’s. That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary’s trip. He crashed around America selling Consciousness Expansion without ever giving a thought to the grim, meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all those people who took him seriously. All those pathetically eager acid-freaks who thought they could buy peace and understanding for three bucks a hit. But his loss, and failure, is ours, too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole lifestyle that he helped create. A generation of permanent cripples; failed seekers, who never understood the essential old mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture. The desperate assumption that somebody, or at least some force, is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.

Hunter Thompson - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (via isthisthingontesting123)

Hell’s Angels, Traffic Stop, California

Hunter S. Thompson

—Hunter S. Thompson, from The Rum Diary (via asoundthatquakes)

“I am Lono.”
- Hunter S. Thompson

Hunter S. Thompson (via get-caked)

Hunter S. Thompson (July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005)

bpgonzo:

Rest in peace, Hunter S. Thompson.
Modern American journalism would be a hell of a lot better if we still had you looking after it.

Rest in peace, Hunter S. Thompson.

Modern American journalism would be a hell of a lot better if we still had you looking after it.