Laying Him Down Proper: The March Issue Of Rolling Stone

I'm sitting on the toilet at about five in the morning looking at the cover of Rolling Stone magazine with Hunter S. Thompson's black and white face smoking those cigarettes with the trademark holder. I heard talk from my brother about it and nothing was negative. "It's pretty good. You should check it out." There on my throne, I did. Pages were flipped faster and faster as images of the man (usually holding some sort of firearm) darted past. There were articles from old editors, artists, celebrities, and even his son. I tried to soak in every detail before the sleep deprivation kicked in. Little bits of his life that were told by his closest dotted each page. It really didn't surprise me that Rolling Stone put him on the cover or dedicated a good chunk of the print for other people's memories of the man. It was more that this guy was gone, leaving behind nothing but his work and the crazy-ass stories that tended to follow his around. Godspeed you crazy son of a bitch.