man, growing up i used to think i was like danny torrance...but a few years ago i turned into his dad...hug?...I'm fairly obsessed with books about jack kerouac and hunter s thompson....complex dudes...tough to get handles on...need all the evidence i can get to construct an accurate portrait to hang in my bedroom and jerk off to...huh?...alot of our most beloved writers or artists in general make really shitty parents...that's why i was stoked to find hunter's son, juan f.'s memoir at the library a few days ago...get some new shit...some new info to put into the file folder...sunshine detective agency in the house...speaking of houses i just got evicted from mine...give away the cat, eat the bunny and put the goldfish in the car...sleeping bag and sleepless nights wishing at wishing wells that once, just once i could hit a home run...once just once, i could get that break and kick down the door...growing up with william brown...tv show coming soon...next morning the window was smashed...later that night he punched her in the gut...growing up with william brown...tv show not coming soon...but the movie is :)
"Hunter was a man's man and had been from his childhood. He was large, strong, and dominant. He smoked cigarettes and drank, drove fast, and attracted beautiful women. He rode motorcycles and took risks. He knew how to fight and how to intimidate people verbally to avoid a fight. On the other hand, i didn't date until i was a senior in high school, never smoked, and had never been in a fight, and drank very rarely. I loved books, computers, and fantasy role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons. I didn't care much for sports and preferred acting in plays. My friends were like me - awkward, smart, not cute, and frequently lonely. I was a nerd. So that night, holding the 12-gauge shotgun to my shoulder, i wanted to show my father that i was skilled in at least one of the arts that he valued, that somehow that would establish my credentials as a man, if not a man's man. I took aim, took my time, and pulled the trigger. There was an explosion, the gun slammed back into my shoulder, and a giant yellow fireball rose into the sky, lasting a second or so. When it was over, everyone cheered and Hunter slapped me on the shoulder and congratulated me on fine shooting. I was happy, i felt that i had staked out a small claim on the turf of manhood, and i was glad i had made my father proud."