Gives me some Hunter S Thompson vibes without being cloying. Although hopefully without excessive amounts of psychedelics or visions of lizards fucking.
I recall a nightmare night I spent with Hunter S. Thompson once. It was a show he gave at a bar just a few miles West of Bozeman, MT in maybe the mid 1980’s. He opened a bottle of Chivas on stage and proceeded to finish it, or nearly, by the end of the gig. It made me sick. It was not all the beer I drank driving my pickup there on the dark, narrow country roads, or during the “performance” or afterwards. I was just plumb let down. I was expecting something from the dude and got jack shit. I wrote a poem expressing my revulsion and sent it to Hunter. He wrote back. It was a handwritten letter on gold embossed stationery that bore the seal of the hotel he used to hang out at in San Francisco, I forget the name. Thompson said I’d written a good poem which he found surprising coming out of Montana. He was disappointed with Montana. I think it was a shitty poem, but I think my frank disappointment must have rung sincere with Hunter. He understood, appreciated, and said something about not expecting that kind of a poem from Montana. I got rid of the thing, I believe during some impulsive purging of the past, though there still a few places from which I have an inkling it may resurface. Anyway it is hard not to hear a resonance with Gonzo Journalism in Laura, but I prefer to see in her the unfolding of something even more uniquely Jedeed and wonderful, what-ever that may be, if she wants it to happen.
You can't just tell a story like that and not send me the poem!!!
(I haven't read a lot about Thompson the guy but I have heard he felt trapped by the persona he created, which seems like a nightmare, because as fun as that person was to hang out with as a reader it does not seem like a fun person to inhabit 24/7)
if you keep doing quasi-Gonzo Journalism , I may give you the original. It's really Kool with the gold letter head and his kind and reflective response . I expected to be blown off, but instead got a real meaningful letter. I recall his instructions for the disposal of his remains, as you know, to have the ashes loaded into a shotgun shell or was it to be jammed in front of a wad and lots of powder into the barrel of a cannon, a fitting last rush. You are making your own path in print so, perhaps you'll come up with something appropriate but that will take care of itself down the road. Be well, and be you.
Jedeed, found the letter. Have the original. I would love to send it to you for posterity, safe keeping and to be dazzled by the thrill of it all, as I was in July of 1985 on that mad night at the Gallatin Gateway Inn.
God. Lost the stylus to my phone and having a time getting all of this shit written down. My fingers are too big for this device and my thumbs don't appear to be opposed enough to function like people do on their phones these days. Send a mailing address and phone number so we can chat briefly at your convenience about logistics. dkwindexpress@gmail.com.
I worry for you sometimes Lady. I mean Id have gone in a second but it might very well have the same effect on me. Trying to maintain sanity and hope for a "positive" outcome when there are so many groups pushing for fascism, theocracy and a reactionary "return to the good old days" which I can assure you from living back then they weren't as wonderful as the right recalls. Still better in most ways than what is on offer but not great. Anyway take care of yourself Lady and thank you for what you do. It matters abd IMO makes a difference in case you have any doubts.
Maybe stop saying you're journalist? You are a writer, and really good one...
I kinda hope you don't find whatever it is that you are looking for, whatever is driving down this path, because I'm afraid if you do, you will stop bringing us along on the ride.
I really like this idea and I'm going with it next time. "Journalist" never feels quite right, honestly: I do journalism sometimes but not all the time, and whatever this sort of thing is, it feels much closer to that chronicle of dystopia than journalism writ large
And yeah, they will VASTLY prefer "writer." It will amuse them.
Not that I think you aren't a hell of a journalist, but flying solo at pent-up machismo party of misogynists slamming martinis, maybe writer cronicling the march toward dystopia is a cover without a lie.
"The new right promises something else, decked out in shards of glass and reveling in content warnings: edgelord promises of something new and dangerous and violent."
I remember in the mid 80's through the mid 90's the "Parental Advisory Explicit Content" label was the fastest way to proclaim that you were cool in grade school and Jr High. Not only did you have taste, but you transgressed to indulge in that taste. You gave Tipper Gore a heart attack. You either hoodwinked your parents into buying the explicit version of the album or you had parents that didn't give a shit (My dad and I shared a love of grunge and he wouldn't settle for the censored version. The surreal feeling of telling your friend they can't borrow the Alice in Chains album because it's your dads remains with me to this day).
Your musings reminded me of that for the first time in a long time. It's kind of nice in a horrible way to know that the best that the right can do for counterculture is to embody Junior High students circa 1988. They're speedrunning it so I can't wait for them to hit their Hot Topic phase. And then the subsequent sobering, depressing equivalent to the moment when you realize The Gap is laying claim to counterculture. Come to think of it, that feels like DeSantis- The Gap claiming it is the herald of counterculture.
I listened to David Byrne's How Music Works a while back, an interesting book both for his history of his career and his view of the nature of music, and I remember him musing about why the Talking Heads wore suits when they were, essentially, a punk music group in NYC. He called it corporate camouflage. The big suit was a natural extension of his interest in Kabuki and the end result of the absurdity of punk wearing suits. Reading your post makes me remember that and smile.
And you may ask yourself "well, how did I get here?"
Reading all this doubles down the impression I get that the right, especially the far right, are a cargo cult. They either won't or can't engage with the realities of the world, and are carving coconut headphones and wooden radios to guide the planes down to mock runways, so that the cargo can return and life can be good again.
You and I clearly came of age around the same time, because I too remember when the entire scope of rebellion was buying edgy music. As a former mall goth, I too love this for them, and that cargo cult metaphor feels dead on. Pity they also seem to think the cargo will only come back after they eliminate transgenderism and etc.
David Byrne is a genius, and I mean that in a much bigger way than the usual one when it comes to musicians. This whole party had the biggest 80s vibe imaginable, fully American Psycho, and while Byrne could execute corporate camoflage these guys cannot execute punk camoflage no matter how hard they try.
Makes me think of myself wandering Krakow's Old Town in 1995. And every other 20-or-30-something expatriate from something, walking from bar to bar, trying to convince ourselves that movement is action & action is purpose.
Trying to find a Saturday night so loud we can't think about our own lives.
Laura, I don’t even know how to describe how your pieces make me feel. They are a work of art. They help me feel...like I can see better? If that makes sense. The far right’s ideology is mired in so much nonsense, but your writing cuts straight to the ugly-but-also-lame-as-hell heart of it all. It’s very illuminating.
I hope that writing for this Substack brings you some catharsis. I imagine it must be wearying to be wandering these events, always on the edge of something painful (or the anticipation of something painful, which can be worse). I hope the comments and community can help bring you home ❤️
Thanks for all of the work that you do. I loved reading about the dance cleansing at the end of that evening. I hope you can carry that with you when you need it.
I'll be honest: I haven't had very many martinins in my life so I can't really say. I found it a pleasant drinking experience but it wasn't particularly cold and mostly tasted like nice vodka. Will have to do more research and get back to you
I might be taking you a little too seriously, but are you familiar with abolition feminism? It seems like it might be able to offer you something you're looking for.
I personally have found that it (and Black feminism more generally) has a lot to offer, especially in terms of imagining the future with a sharp analysis of history, power, and what it takes to make change. If you like to read books, you can't go wrong with Mariame Kaba or adrienne maree brown. No More Police feels like a sort of natural starting place, and it is excellent. But it's a very intro-level "why the police are bad and what a better world can look like", and you'll probably find little in the first 2/3 or so in terms of arguments you're not already familiar with. The last third, though, connects the dots really nicely and pivots to offer a vision of change. Kaba's We Do This Til We Free US and brown's Holding Change are both short, easy reads that focus more on the vision and how we get there. I loved all three books. In any case, I hope you can find something there that serves you.
"This is the counterculture, and it kind of sucks."
human history in a sentence.
editing in the phone recordings is a cool innovation.
you're hitting a groove and it's a wonder to witness.
Gives me some Hunter S Thompson vibes without being cloying. Although hopefully without excessive amounts of psychedelics or visions of lizards fucking.
I agree.
See Laura, I’m not the only who hears echos of HST in your writing. Keep it up, your journalism is terrific. (But please take care of yourself, too.)
I recall a nightmare night I spent with Hunter S. Thompson once. It was a show he gave at a bar just a few miles West of Bozeman, MT in maybe the mid 1980’s. He opened a bottle of Chivas on stage and proceeded to finish it, or nearly, by the end of the gig. It made me sick. It was not all the beer I drank driving my pickup there on the dark, narrow country roads, or during the “performance” or afterwards. I was just plumb let down. I was expecting something from the dude and got jack shit. I wrote a poem expressing my revulsion and sent it to Hunter. He wrote back. It was a handwritten letter on gold embossed stationery that bore the seal of the hotel he used to hang out at in San Francisco, I forget the name. Thompson said I’d written a good poem which he found surprising coming out of Montana. He was disappointed with Montana. I think it was a shitty poem, but I think my frank disappointment must have rung sincere with Hunter. He understood, appreciated, and said something about not expecting that kind of a poem from Montana. I got rid of the thing, I believe during some impulsive purging of the past, though there still a few places from which I have an inkling it may resurface. Anyway it is hard not to hear a resonance with Gonzo Journalism in Laura, but I prefer to see in her the unfolding of something even more uniquely Jedeed and wonderful, what-ever that may be, if she wants it to happen.
You can't just tell a story like that and not send me the poem!!!
(I haven't read a lot about Thompson the guy but I have heard he felt trapped by the persona he created, which seems like a nightmare, because as fun as that person was to hang out with as a reader it does not seem like a fun person to inhabit 24/7)
I do wish it would turn up, and if it does and
if you keep doing quasi-Gonzo Journalism , I may give you the original. It's really Kool with the gold letter head and his kind and reflective response . I expected to be blown off, but instead got a real meaningful letter. I recall his instructions for the disposal of his remains, as you know, to have the ashes loaded into a shotgun shell or was it to be jammed in front of a wad and lots of powder into the barrel of a cannon, a fitting last rush. You are making your own path in print so, perhaps you'll come up with something appropriate but that will take care of itself down the road. Be well, and be you.
See my note. Wonderful to share with you and your crew.
Jedeed, found the letter. Have the original. I would love to send it to you for posterity, safe keeping and to be dazzled by the thrill of it all, as I was in July of 1985 on that mad night at the Gallatin Gateway Inn.
God. Lost the stylus to my phone and having a time getting all of this shit written down. My fingers are too big for this device and my thumbs don't appear to be opposed enough to function like people do on their phones these days. Send a mailing address and phone number so we can chat briefly at your convenience about logistics. dkwindexpress@gmail.com.
I worry for you sometimes Lady. I mean Id have gone in a second but it might very well have the same effect on me. Trying to maintain sanity and hope for a "positive" outcome when there are so many groups pushing for fascism, theocracy and a reactionary "return to the good old days" which I can assure you from living back then they weren't as wonderful as the right recalls. Still better in most ways than what is on offer but not great. Anyway take care of yourself Lady and thank you for what you do. It matters abd IMO makes a difference in case you have any doubts.
Maybe stop saying you're journalist? You are a writer, and really good one...
I kinda hope you don't find whatever it is that you are looking for, whatever is driving down this path, because I'm afraid if you do, you will stop bringing us along on the ride.
I really like this idea and I'm going with it next time. "Journalist" never feels quite right, honestly: I do journalism sometimes but not all the time, and whatever this sort of thing is, it feels much closer to that chronicle of dystopia than journalism writ large
And yeah, they will VASTLY prefer "writer." It will amuse them.
Not that I think you aren't a hell of a journalist, but flying solo at pent-up machismo party of misogynists slamming martinis, maybe writer cronicling the march toward dystopia is a cover without a lie.
I second this! Your writing is impeccable
"The new right promises something else, decked out in shards of glass and reveling in content warnings: edgelord promises of something new and dangerous and violent."
I remember in the mid 80's through the mid 90's the "Parental Advisory Explicit Content" label was the fastest way to proclaim that you were cool in grade school and Jr High. Not only did you have taste, but you transgressed to indulge in that taste. You gave Tipper Gore a heart attack. You either hoodwinked your parents into buying the explicit version of the album or you had parents that didn't give a shit (My dad and I shared a love of grunge and he wouldn't settle for the censored version. The surreal feeling of telling your friend they can't borrow the Alice in Chains album because it's your dads remains with me to this day).
Your musings reminded me of that for the first time in a long time. It's kind of nice in a horrible way to know that the best that the right can do for counterculture is to embody Junior High students circa 1988. They're speedrunning it so I can't wait for them to hit their Hot Topic phase. And then the subsequent sobering, depressing equivalent to the moment when you realize The Gap is laying claim to counterculture. Come to think of it, that feels like DeSantis- The Gap claiming it is the herald of counterculture.
I listened to David Byrne's How Music Works a while back, an interesting book both for his history of his career and his view of the nature of music, and I remember him musing about why the Talking Heads wore suits when they were, essentially, a punk music group in NYC. He called it corporate camouflage. The big suit was a natural extension of his interest in Kabuki and the end result of the absurdity of punk wearing suits. Reading your post makes me remember that and smile.
And you may ask yourself "well, how did I get here?"
Reading all this doubles down the impression I get that the right, especially the far right, are a cargo cult. They either won't or can't engage with the realities of the world, and are carving coconut headphones and wooden radios to guide the planes down to mock runways, so that the cargo can return and life can be good again.
You and I clearly came of age around the same time, because I too remember when the entire scope of rebellion was buying edgy music. As a former mall goth, I too love this for them, and that cargo cult metaphor feels dead on. Pity they also seem to think the cargo will only come back after they eliminate transgenderism and etc.
David Byrne is a genius, and I mean that in a much bigger way than the usual one when it comes to musicians. This whole party had the biggest 80s vibe imaginable, fully American Psycho, and while Byrne could execute corporate camoflage these guys cannot execute punk camoflage no matter how hard they try.
Makes me think of myself wandering Krakow's Old Town in 1995. And every other 20-or-30-something expatriate from something, walking from bar to bar, trying to convince ourselves that movement is action & action is purpose.
Trying to find a Saturday night so loud we can't think about our own lives.
God, ain't that the mood
The expat thing carries over--ideological, in my case. A weird, becalmed feeling at times
Laura, I don’t even know how to describe how your pieces make me feel. They are a work of art. They help me feel...like I can see better? If that makes sense. The far right’s ideology is mired in so much nonsense, but your writing cuts straight to the ugly-but-also-lame-as-hell heart of it all. It’s very illuminating.
I hope that writing for this Substack brings you some catharsis. I imagine it must be wearying to be wandering these events, always on the edge of something painful (or the anticipation of something painful, which can be worse). I hope the comments and community can help bring you home ❤️
Thanks for all of the work that you do. I loved reading about the dance cleansing at the end of that evening. I hope you can carry that with you when you need it.
Thank you for this
1. You sure can take it.
2. Roger Stone desperately wants to be hip, but can never attain that status due to being a creep.
3. Was his martini any good? I read a review that said his was warm and tasteless.
I'll be honest: I haven't had very many martinins in my life so I can't really say. I found it a pleasant drinking experience but it wasn't particularly cold and mostly tasted like nice vodka. Will have to do more research and get back to you
Sounds like a mid-life crisis Republican club to me...
I might be taking you a little too seriously, but are you familiar with abolition feminism? It seems like it might be able to offer you something you're looking for.
I'm not, and I'll look into it, because I really am serious about looking for something better
I personally have found that it (and Black feminism more generally) has a lot to offer, especially in terms of imagining the future with a sharp analysis of history, power, and what it takes to make change. If you like to read books, you can't go wrong with Mariame Kaba or adrienne maree brown. No More Police feels like a sort of natural starting place, and it is excellent. But it's a very intro-level "why the police are bad and what a better world can look like", and you'll probably find little in the first 2/3 or so in terms of arguments you're not already familiar with. The last third, though, connects the dots really nicely and pivots to offer a vision of change. Kaba's We Do This Til We Free US and brown's Holding Change are both short, easy reads that focus more on the vision and how we get there. I loved all three books. In any case, I hope you can find something there that serves you.
I've been saying since 2016 that electing Donald Trump the President of the United States isn't the sort of thing you come back from.
Stick a fork in us - we're done.
Brunch remains cancelled