Thursday, December 4, 2008

A Fear and Loathing Guide to Life- Part 1

A Fear and Loathing Guide to Life:

Who should drive: You drive. You drive. I think there's something wrong with me

Want to leave the bar, party, family reunion- I hate to say this, but this place is getting to me. I think I'm getting the fear

Less or More: One toke? You poor fool! Wait till you see those goddamn bats

When asked if you plan to have babies: One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.

Sage Advice: One of the things you learn from years of dealing with drug people, is that you can turn your back on a person, but never turn your back on a drug. Especially when it's waving a razor-sharp hunting knife in your eye.

How was your weekend?: Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Has it been five years? Six? It seems like a lifetime, the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. But no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time in the world. Whatever it meant.

Did you miss me?: There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.

How you feel about your ex: With a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Always thinking that just behind some narrow door in all of his favorite bars, men in red woolen shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he'll never know.

Ice breaker: Look, there's two women fucking a polar bear!

Bible discussions: 'Jesus, what a terrible thing to lay on someone with a head full of acid'

Need to get rid of someone quick: That bastard cashed a bad cheque downstairs and gave you as a reference. They'll be looking for both of you. Yeah I know. You can't judge a book by it's cover... some people are just basically rotten. Well the last thing in the world you want to do is call this hotel again. They'll trace the call and put you straight behind bars. Yeah I'm moving to the tropicana right away... when I get a room I'll let you know which one it is... I gotta get off. They probably have this phone tapped baby... Yeah I know it's horrible but it's all over now.

Door bell rings: Oh my God... there's someone at the door. There's someone at the door!

Don't want to have sex: Ahh! Ahh! Don't put that thing on me! Aaah! Aaah! Aaah! aaah... aah... ah...

Messing with people's heads: We know what you're up to man.

Need to make a sale: Hey honkies. You folks wanna buy some heroin? Goddamnit, I'm serious. All I'm trying to sell you is some pure fucking smack! This is the real stuff! You won't get hooked. I just got back from Vietnam. Ahahaha... scag! Pbbbbbbb... I wanna sell you some pure fucking smack... pure... fuck...

Start a Fight: Come on you fiend!

Getting someone out of the bathroom: You're doomed. I'm leaving here in two hours and then they're going to come up here and beat the mortal shit out of you with big saps. Right there in that fucking tub.

Hotel room review: When I came to, the general back-alley ambience of the suite was so rotten, so incredibly foul. How long had I been lying there? All these signs of violence. What had happened? There was evidence in this room of excessive consumption of almost every type of drug known to civilized man since 1544 AD. What kind of addict would need all these coconut husks and crushed honeydew rinds? Would the presence of junkies account for all these uneaten french fries? These puddles of glazed ketchup on the bureau? Maybe so. But then why all this booze? And these crude pornographic photos smeared with mustard that had dried to a hard yellow crust? These were not the hoofprints of your average God-fearing junky. It was too savage. Too aggressive.

Excuse to miss an event: I have to go. Leave the country. Tonight. This is serious. One more hour in this town and I'll kill somebody!

Appropriate zoo or mall question: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals?

Being pulled over by a police man: Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. A normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow. But he won't know what to make of your blinker signal that says you are about to turn right. This is to let him know you're pulling off for a proper place to talk. It will take him a moment to realize that he's about to make a 180 degree turn at speed, but you will be ready for it. Brace for the g's, and fast heel-toe work.

What to pack for a weekend trip: We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into locked a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.

Change the subject: No more of that talk or I'll put the fucking leeches on you, understand?

Making introducitons: I want you to understand that this man at the wheel is my attorney. He's not just some dingbat I found on the strip, man. He's a foreigner. I think he's probably Samoan. But that doesn't matter, though, does it? Are you prejudiced?

Prayer: You better take care of me, Lord. If you don't you're gonna have me on your hands.

To begin every sentence: As your attorney, I advise you

No comments:

Post a Comment

 
Blog Design by Imagination Designs all images from the Scare Dee Doo kit by Irene Alexeeva