Rum Diary

As soon as I saw the first trailer for that film, from a novel that was long-lost by Hunter s. Thompson, when I saw the first blip in mass media, I knew I’d see the film.

Favorite Gemini actor, whats-his-name, and a favorite literary icon, HST.

On top of that, the back story to the novel itself, HST and Depp were friends, and Depp uncovered the long-lost novel. Had it published.

That’s not the story I recall, and I’ve cursed my unlucky Sagittarius stars for the last month.

I have — someplace — a copy of the first hardback edition of The Rum Diary, and I can’t find it.

Good movie with grainy, gritty realism. LSD, drugs, booze, the usual ingredients that became the HST trademark, later. As I recall, the book was autobiographical, as much fiction is, and the tale was told by an idiot.

At the Alamo, there is good reason to get there early. Food, yes, excellent pizza and green chili cheese fries, but that wasn’t it.

The Alamo Drafthouse features clips that pertain to the movie, about half an hour, maybe 20 minutes of related material. I was expecting Depp’s “Fear and Loathing” movie, instead, there was a short clip from HDNet’s “Gonzo” piece and then, clips from Bill Murray’s “Where the Buffalo Roam,” again, a good film.

Then there was an exciting reading of the famous lines from, “Hell’s Angels” I know I’ve quoted the same passage several times, and hearing them read aloud, in the dark theater, watching a motorcycle scream down the Pacific Coast Highway?

That’s when the strange music starts.

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