A not-quite-voyeur of Hunter S. Thompson land

Long ago I read the “Rolling Stone,” and discovered Hunter S. Thompson.  If you don’t know about Thompson, there is a pretty decent article about him at Wikipedia.  The stuff he wrote fascinated me.  I kept thinking, “Is this guy for real?”  Years later I finally got around to reading his books, after my son gave me a copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream (1971).  Again, there was that same horrified fascination.  Reading the book was dangerous . . . I had to put it down after each chapter, and reconnect with what was real in my life.  And yet, in the midst of the twisted, drug induced descriptions and (possible) paranoia, Thompson would make commentaries on life that rang true.  He wrote things about what the counter-culture members of my generation had hoped to create, and how members of the status quo set out to squash that. 

So I read everything Thompson wrote that I could find.  Some of it was as “unique” as Fear and Loathing, and some of it was a bit more mundane.  I certainly can’t say I agreed with his life view; sometimes I felt like a sociologist, exploring an unknown culture.  But he made me think.  And he continued to fascinate me. 

In 1980 they made a movie about stories from his life: Where the Buffalo Roam, starring Bill Murray as Thompson and Peter Boyle as Carl Lazlo, his Samoan attorney.  It covers highlights from Thompson’s writings, and tidbits from his life, but it’s a little . . . tame.  Am guessing we can blame that on it being done in 1980.  Societal mores were still rather tight back then, and they didn’t have the CGI capabilities to really do some of the stories justice.  Murray does a good job, but Peter Boyle’s Lazlo is more manic than seriously whacked out.  The DVD is rated R and runs 96 minutes.  Yahoo movies gives it a B; I’d give it more of a C. 

Then in 1998 they made Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, with Johnny Depp as Thompson, Benicio Del Toro as the Samoan attorney, and Terry Gilliam directing (with bit parts played by other name actors, such as Tobey Maguire, Carmen Diaz, and Christina Ricci).  Wow.  This one captures the twisted, this-can’t-be-real essence of the book, including an excellent scene in the hotel bar where Thompson sees everyone as reptiles.  I read somewhere that Depp got so into the character of Thompson, that it took him six months after the filming was done to feel like himself again.  It shows.  Don’t watch the movie just because Depp is in it, because instead of handsome Johnny you see what Thompson looked like.  (Thompson actually plays a cameo in the film.)  This movie comes far closer to conveying the feeling of Thompson’s writing.  I couldn’t get my husband to watch the bonus features on the DVD with me immediately after the movie, because he had the same “lets connect with real life” reaction I had with the book.  The DVD runs 2 hrs and 8 minutes, and is rated R (but a harsher R than the other movie — really).  Yahoo movies gave it a B+, while I would give it an A-. 

Hunter S. Thompson died in 2005 at the age of 67 of a self-inflicted gunshot wound.  He was known for his drug taking, love of firearms, and gonzo journalism.  The weekend before John Belushi died of a drug overdose, he spent time with Thompson, and finally left because he couldn’t keep up with Thompson’s drug taking.  Thompson was an interesting mix of educated, Southern gun freak and whacked out druggie.  When he wrote, you never quite knew what facet of his personality you would read, but it was rarely boring.

Moving a bridge on Hwy 199

My husband is out on the roads at night, which means he occasionally gets to see some pretty cool things.  Last night he saw some of the process as CalTrans workers moved a new bridge on Hwy 199 into place.  There are two main roads into Del Norte County (California): Hwy 101 (from the north and south) and Hwy 199 (which comes southwest down from Oregon).  Hwy 199 gets a lot of traffic.  It also runs along the Smith River, which is one of the cleanest rivers in the continental United States.  Bit by bit, they have been trying to improve the road — a difficult undertaking, because in some areas it is very narrow, carved out of the rock above the Smith River.  Over the past year they have been working on the Vic Meedom Bridge (named after a former police chief and local character), which crosses Hardscrabble Creek.  (Yes, they once did gold mining in this area.)

Last night, from 10 pm to 6 am, they closed Hwy 199 so they could move the new bridge into place.  Apparently they built the new bridge on a track that jutted over the Smith River.   They extended the track to go under where the old bridge was.  Last night, they carefully destroyed the old bridge, and then moved the 15-ton concrete bridge along the tracks to fit into the slot where the old bridge was.  Voila!  Hwy 199 was open again this morning.  My husband said it reminded him of the sort of thing they used to do in ancient times, with thousands of slaves.  This time they used hydraulic engines and far fewer people.

Cats

I’m a cat person.  I’ve had/lived with dogs in my past, and there have been some I’ve been genuinely fond of, but for some reason I bond with cats better.  My Significant Other had two cats when we got together, and shortly thereafter one of them gave birth to four more at the foot of our bed, so we had six cats.  We never did have the heart to find other homes for the kittens, though we did think about it.  Eventually one cat died of old age, two others had unfortunate encounters with cars, and two succumbed to a genetic disease.  We added a young cat at one point, but one of the neighborhood dogs who was illegally running loose killed her in our own yard.  So we were down to one aging cat, who really missed his siblings.  We were unsure about getting more kittens, because the last time we tried that the three male cats . . . well, let’s just say we had to rip out the carpet.  Fortunately, one neighbor had cats, and they often came over and visited, so our aging cat didn’t get too lonely . . . until they moved.  The meowing made it obvious he was lonely.

We decided to take the plunge.  A co-worker had been talking about having kittens to give away.  They were all females (which is what we wanted), and were a lovely tortoise color.  So we invested in 1) kitten food, and 2) Comfort Zone by Feliway.  Comfort Zone is a scent diffuser (like Glade plug-ins) that emits a scent similar to the pheromones cats produce on their faces to comfort each other.  I couldn’t smell it (and I have a sensitive nose), but the idea is that it helps calm cats when they have to go to the vet (they make a spray version), or for cats who are nervous at home, or for when you introduce kittens into a new environment.  I bought it at a PetSmart or PetCo for around $50, but am told you can get it much cheaper on-line.  We plugged it in about 24 hours before we brought the kittens home, and it worked!  The older cat did not spray, and the two kittens we brought home adjusted easily. 

This one is Ginger.  She got named that because she has more orange in her fur than the other one.  The photo below is of her sister, Susan.  (I know — very original names.)  Susan got her name from a Terry Pratchett book we were re-reading at the time, featuring a no-nonsense character named Susan Sto Helit.  When we first brought them home, Susan was the more assertive of the two, and Ginger seemed more shy.  HA!  Once both of them got used to their surroundings, it became obvious they were both very assertive, just in different ways.  It took Ginger and the older cat about three days to get used to each other; it took Susan almost a week to get over her initial “Halloween cat” reaction.  The older cat was disdainful of them for a while, but at least he stopped meowing for company at 3 a.m.   When we saw him bathing Ginger on the ninth day, we knew things were going well.  Lately the kittens have taken to climbing into the attic, where our older cat can no longer follow.  If they are out of sight for a few hours, he starts meowing with concern (“What have you done with my kittens?”) until they eventually come down again.

I don’t remember the kittens who were born at the foot of our bed being quite this energetic.  Am wondering if it has something to do with their build — three of those cats had the bulkier “forest cat” body type, while the older cat we still have has the leaner “Egyptian cat” body style of the kittens.  Am also wondering if those kittens born at the foot of our bed were better behaved because their mom was around.  I keep telling our older cat he needs to talk with the kittens about behaving, and he gives me this “Huh? You brought them home” look.  Susan and Ginger practice what we’ve taken to calling Kat-Fu — running and leaping at each other and meeting in the air at 2-3 feet off the ground.  They run through the house like it’s a race track, and make daring leaps to hang from the curtain four feet off the ground.  (For that last action they are rewarded with a squirt of water from the handy spray bottle.)  They are learning about NOT playing with the spider plant or getting up on the dining room table or kitchen counters (spray bottle again), and that even if they are only on the bed for half a second while bounding down from their perch on top of the bookcases, it STILL counts as being on the bed (also off limits).   We are still working on how close they are allowed to get to the bird cages. 

Ginger and Susan are a welcome addition to our family.  The older cat is much happier (even if he does escape outside to get away from them at times), and so are the humans.  (Suspect the Birds still vote “No!”)  Yes, I get frustrated with what they’ve done to a couple of the plants, and with getting woke up at odd hours when they race around the house.  But they make us laugh and smile, and there’s nothing sweeter than the purring of a kitten on your lap.  Besides, they look so cute when they’re asleep.