Bob Dylan, Hillary Clinton, Jesus, and a Gonzo Anniversary
Il y a des années, ils disaient que j’étais un prophète.
Je leur répondais"Non, je ne suis pas un prophète."
Ils me disaient "Si, tu l’es!"
Maintenant, je vais vers eux et je leur dis" c’est Jésus, la solution."
Et là, ils disent"Bob dylan, ce n’est PAS un prophète"
— Bob Dylan, 1980, quoted from a book, "Bob Dylan" by Silvain Vanot, that I bought on a Paris street for my dear friend Shelby.
When I arrived in France, not having spoken french in about 15 years (only taken it in school while living in Switzerland), my fench was about the level of a 5/6 year-old. So, now, after a couple months here in Europe, traveling around and taking some French classes, I can proudly say that I can at least speak with the confidence of an teenager. Thus, I can’t tell exactly what Bob is saying in the above quote, but it might have something to do with not being able to prophesize that Hillary would happily win Pennsylvania in April 2008, Jesus is great, and one day, 28 years later, he would be wishing Hunter and Anita a Happy Wedding Anniversary.
I’m wrapping up my Europe trip. Besides brushing up on my french before going home to Owl Farm, and then to summer classes in NYC, it really has been good for me to expatriate for a couple months, I realized — and good to be away from my Hunter world, which started exactly 10 years ago, when I was 25 years old.
Among many other things, one thing I’ve learned is that I suck at dating. I didn’t have any idea how to do it when I met Hunter at 25, and am even worse now. I don’t want to turn into cat lady, but I might just prefer my own company. And maybe others also prefer that I keep to myself. Yikes.
In Paris, I went out all the time with a fun group of friends, but here in Geneva, I like to be with myself and only myself. Read, jog, email, eat, sleep, yoga, read, jog, email, eat sleep etc…. Right now, as I look at my wedding ring, which I put back on today, Feist is playing on my iPod, and I’m content. My feelings for Hunter have not changed a bit since he died, and I have accepted that I will miss him forever. But I have an open heart, so the reason I’m not good at dating has nothing to do with him. It’s something else, but I just don’t know what.
The final mystery is oneself… who can calculate the mystery of one’s own soul? — Oscar Wilde
Although I haven’t had tons, I’ve been so lucky with the love affairs I have had in my lifetime — don’t regret a single one. But, ugh, dating is something that should be illegal. It’s just awful. Anyway, on my wedding anniversay this year, I’m not at Owl Farm (which is very secure, after that quack incident); I’m here in Geneva, planning the last few weeks to take my niece and nephew to see a bit of Europe.
We’re starting in London after the Elle Magazine interview, then Paris, then Switzerland… depends on weather, but certainly to Lugano to show Brittany my high school, and see if I can get her to enroll. Doubtful, but I’ll try… Then… overnight train to Krakow for 3 days to see the Old City, Wieliczka Salt Mine, and, I’m going to take them to see Auschwitz, as some of our family members were in camps like this. Very awful, but important, I think, for them to see the good the bad, and yes, the ugly. Then we will go to Warsaw to see family for a 3 days, then back home –about 2 weeks. I’m very happy to spend the time with them here.
So all is well in my heart today, not just because of Hillary’s victory in Pennsylvania and it being the SOCCER MOMS UNITE vote. My trip was good, Da Capo is working on the galley of the book of Hunter’s Interviews which I edited this winter, and I think you will love. we should have gallies by this summer. I’m honored that Christopher Hitchens is writing the Forward. My family members are on their way, and well, not having a car (my little $600 Ford finally died before I left for Europe), I don’t personally have to worry that a barrell of oil costs $115. At least not today.
I’m going to leave you with some of Hunter’s words about our little wedding. If you are planning a wedding, I highly recommend doing it this way: It’s the Gonzo Way:
It was done with fine style and secrecy in order to avoid the looting and drunken violence that local lawmen feared would inevitably have followed the ceremony.
I know nothing about planning even the simplest wedding, nothing at all, and neither does sweet Anita, who is now my Wife… So we did it the Buddhist way. We drove straight to the County Courthouse on a stormy Thursday morning and were happily married by noon. Sheriff bob performed the ceremony, his wife [Louisa] took pictures, and a black priest from Sicily handled the video camera. It was fun.
Our honeymoon was even simpler. We drank heavily for a few hours with Chris Goldstein and accepted gifts from strangers, then we drove erratically back out to the Owl Farm and prepared for our own, very private celebration by building a huge fire, icing down a magnum of Cristal Champagne, and turning on the Lakers-Timberwolves game until we passed out and crawled to the bedroom. Omnia Vincit Amor.
— Hunter S. Thompson, Hey Rube, 2003
Until next time, your friend,
Anita Thompson
