Funny how long ago February seems…I remember how pissed I was upon hearing about Hunter’s suicide. Suicide sucks too. Sure, there are times when it is right…Kevorkian style…but HST wasn’t there…or maybe he was…hell, I don’t know…he must of sure been fucking miserable….miserable asshole.
Guardian Unlimited Books | By genre | Hunter S Thompson’s widow on a lonely legacy
A lonely legacy
Hunter S Thompson shot himself in February. Eight months on, his widow, Anita, talks to Rachel Cooke exclusively and for the first time about their time together, his sudden death, and living with the memories and memorabilia of a literary giant
Sunday October 23, 2005
The Observer
Owl Farm, which lies in Woody Creek, Pitkin County, Colorado, is an unassuming kind of a building, one without airs or graces or even, sad to say, a power shower or new refrigerator. But it is also legendary, in its way. It was in this ramshackle wooden house that Hunter S Thompson, the hard-drinking, hard-writing, drug-loving, gun-loving gonzo journalist lived for more than three decades. And it was here, too, that last February, at the age of 67, he shot and killed himself with a .45 calibre pistol. For a certain kind of person, this was – and still is – a place of pilgrimage. This was where you came if you despised bourgeois self-satisfaction, and shabbiness, and hypocrisy; this, too, was where you came if you loathed President Bush (though those who hated President Clinton were, conversely, every bit as welcome).
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