January 2020 Auction Ends Thursday, January 30th, 5pm Pacific
This lot is closed for bidding. Bidding ended on 1/30/2020
Hunter S. Thompson letter from 7 October 1964, written to his childhood friend Paul Semonin who lived in Ghana at the time. Thompson writes about writing - both his novel and journalistic pieces, as well as the scene in San Francisco. Letter reads in part, ''...[Billy] Noonan arrived from Mexico, insisting on a quick run to the rockies for some killing...I am still writing bullshit for the Observer, but neither of us takes it real seriously. There is all sorts of money talk on the wind, but none of that is real serious either. There is nothing I particularly want to write -- not even a novel -- and nowhere I particularly want to go. At times I get a feeling that I'm coming back to my sanity, but then the noise begins again and I hit the sink. I feel like a man with a cast on his leg. Something is dragging. The nagging lust to rewrite the novel prevents me from focusing on journalism, and the necessity of paying the bills with journalism keeps me from focusing on the novel. There is no excuse for my chaos. I figured a move to the city would put some wind in my sails, and maybe it will...SF isn't bad. Last week I went to the 49er game with Clancy and Noonan. I live 2 blocks form the stadium, a decent flat...I have a red white and blue Tartar hat I wear at all times due to my baldness. Ghengis Cohen. Tonight I went out and ran on the beach in the fog for two hours with the dog. He's recovering from the leg break. Right now I can hear the foghorns at the entrance to the bay. It's a wet cold night and a good time for the tartar hat. Nobody would dare fuck with me; it has a strange crooked peak on it and fits likes a helmet.
A few weeks ago I went down to L.A. and did a piece on it. A madhouse of some kind, and perhaps worth living in, but I doubt it. I think it's a graveyard. I'm not sure this Coast is anything but bullshit. New York is the pig's eye, but such a rotten place to live that I can't really consider it. Hopefully, I will make it there for a few weeks toward the end of the year. McGarr talks seriously about making films -- my share to be $10,000. Every time I start taking things seriously I run into a rock and roll punk from England and it knockes [sic] me out. They have all come over; it's the final joke on us all. Faggoty caricatures out of some John Bull comic strip. North Beach is a rock and roll center now; the beatniks are gone. Sly and the Mojo Men are packing them in at the Condor. Naked titties everywhere and a dollar a drink. I am doing a piece on it...'' Thompson tapes what looks to be a sort of Chinese fortune cookie note at top of the letter reading ''This is a good indication that you will solve the problem.'' Letter measures 8.5'' x 11''. Folds, else near fine condition.
Hunter Thompson Letter -- ''...The nagging lust to rewrite the novel prevents me from focusing on journalism, and the necessity of paying the bills with journalism keeps me from...the novel...''
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