The Hunter S. Thompson documentary “Gonzo” reminded me why I love and admire his work but, not his life. He was a great writer and flat-out addict/alcoholic. He demonstrated  the “Jekyll & Hyde” personality to perfection. His literary voice, a gift to the world, was consumed by the persona he created. It did to him what it used to do for him. The wild partying journalist full of “Fear and Loathing” asked for no quarter and was given none. There would be no quiet retirement or fading away for Hunter.

He wasn’t naive to the monster he created: his fame for being outrageous eclipsed the stories he was trying to tell. His writing wasn’t enough, people wanted the show. His excesses and eccentricities became the story and he obliged the audience. Hunter knew the faustian bargain he had struck.

When I went off to college and worked at the school newspaper, I wanted to be BE Hunter S. Thompson. I tried to dress and write like him. I certainly tried to party like him. I thought if he could do it, so could I. His work was inspiring, but his larger than life personality attracted me the most. Seeing someone boldly create in a haze of intoxicated and chaotic madness was magnificent. I overlooked the reality that my behavior did more harm than good; especially to those I love. That particular form of blindness is easy.

The chasm between my antics and middling attempts at writing and Hunter S. Thompson was huge. Thompson put in hours and years towards creating his voice. If you took away all the extras, you still had an amazing writer. I just wanted to get hammered. Thompson’s personality and work changed the way all of us see the world. We are richer for the contributions he gave, regardless of the demons on his tail. Hunter S. Thompson is not the first or last who gave into audience demands for more than is possible from an artist.

Separating the Creator from the Created

What does it mean to “be an artist”? The answer isn’t complicated, but practicing it is. An artist is a channel of the creative energy that flows through them. Creative work is vulnerable work. More time and money is spent on looking the part instead of actually doing the work. It is a sly form of procrastination. The business of creating is more about getting out of the way of the process than anything else. 

In high school, I took great pride in having such a distinction between my two “personalities”. I bragged to my girlfriend, who was having none of it. I wish the folly of youth could stay in the past, but at fifty the same nonsense is still with me.

What I know now is I’m both of these people. Making peace with that reality and moving forward is better than total victory over my fears. Everyone has depth and dimension. Creative work is vulnerable work and, I tend to put up shields; thereby making the work harder to produce. I can’t create and be on the lookout for intruders at the same time. I also can’t expect the “showman” to creative work. Not their job.

In my youth, I borrowed from Hunter to see the world. I didn’t know I actually had to develop my own set of skills to process what I saw. I honor Hunter S. Thompson’s legacy by looking and reporting with clarity on what I see. It is up to me to discern what can be made better, and working to make it so. That’s what matters in the end.