My primitive Christian instincts have made me a criminal.
—Hunter S. Thompson (via batcountryword)
(via fuckyeahhst)
We sat there for several hours, talking, drinking lazily, killing the time while a sad piano tinkled away inside. The notes floated out to the patio, giving the night a hopeless, melancholy tone that was almost pleasant.
—from The Rum Diary, by Hunter S. Thompson (via bpgonzo)
(Source: i-am-lono, via fuckyeahhst)
Music has always been a matter of energy to me, a question of fuel. Sentimental people call it inspiration, but what they really mean is fuel. I have always needed fuel. I am a serious consumer. On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.
—Hunter S. Thompson (via jamareya)
(Source: en.wikiquote.org, via fuckyeahhst)
Yaaay Chris got laid!
(Source: clappyhappy, via inglourious-basterd)
There is no such thing as paranoia; the real situation is always worse than you imagine.
—Hunter S. Thomson (via kai2srelation)
(via fuckyeahhst)
(Source: sketchflick, via fuckyeahhst)
(Source: justsolostman)
(via lexiiismiles)
