Oh, my gosh. I just read that Hunter S. Thompson shot himself yesterday and I'm shocked. It's not often that my mouth falls open and I sit rooted to the spot. I'm not even sure why exactly I'm so surprised.

Are they sure that he really shot himself?

I was turned on to Hunter S. Thompson in college in a popular literature class and he's been one of my favorite authors since. It's very rare for me to have any interest in seeing people whose work I admire, but I'd always wanted to see Hunter Thompson. Not meet him, just observe him and see what vibe I got off him. His work always fascinated me and left me wanting to fathom the complexity of the man behind it.

Same thing with Larry McMurtry. He's still alive, right? Just kidding.

Those two men have -yikes, Thompson is no longer present tense!- some genius that gave them the ability to capture the spirit of American culture in a way that no other author I've read has. In a strange way it was unfortunate that either of their works were turned into movies because no movie could capture the brilliance of their writing. I saw a bit of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and it made me sad. Movie adaptations of great books are upsetting.

Another twisted irony is that a lot of people might have heard of "Lonesome Dove," but may only know it as a miniseries that was on TV. To me "Lonesome Dove" is the great American novel. I hope that Larry McMurtry is still alive and well and typing on his maual typewriter in Texas.

May Hunter S. Thompson rest in peace.

-- XXOO Tanya