Hunter S Thompson – The Man and the Cacti plant

“San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of "history" it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle — that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.”

The quoted text above is the famous “wave speech” that Hunter S. Thompson often cited during interviews and is from his book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I had read this book a long time back and like many young people had idolised it for all the wrong reasons. At that time the only thing I felt was this deep connection with the author who talked so passionately about drugs. The man himself, unlike Timothy Leary (many say Leary was publicist and a media-monkey) was very unpredictable. His biographer has said that, “In any given situation, as soon as he feels there's a system closing in, he'll destroy it”

Anyways, I have too many things to say and too many images in my mind about Hunter S Thompson but the one thing that has interested me most is the way he had arranged his own funeral.

On August 20, 2005, in a private ceremony, Thompson's ashes were fired from a cannon atop a 153-foot tower of his own design (in the shape of a double-thumbed fist clutching a peyote button) to the tune of Bob Dylan's Mr. Tambourine Man, known to be the song most respected by the late writer. Red, white, blue and green fireworks were launched along with his ashes. As the city of Aspen would not allow the cannon to remain for more than a month, the cannon has been dismantled and put into storage until a suitable permanent location can be found. According to widow Anita Thompson, the actor Johnny Depp, a close friend of Thompson (and portrayer of Raoul Duke in the movie adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas), financed the funeral. Depp told the Associated Press, "All I'm doing is trying to make sure his last wish comes true. I just want to send my pal out the way he wants to go out."

Peyote cannon. I know he lived on the right side of the sixties, but a peyote cannon? What could have possibly ushered him to peyote? Only thing I had known about peyote before this is that it is a source of mescaline, which unfortunately, I have never experienced. I got reading about peyote synthesis, peyote cultivation, peyote communities, legal issues with peyote, its history and they are all mind-boggling.

Peyote (Lophophora williamsii) is a small, spineless cactus whose native region extends from the southwestern United States (including the states of Texas and New Mexico) through central Mexico. It has been used for centuries for the mystical effects experienced when it is ingested.

Peyote is reported to trigger states of deep introspection and insight that have been described as being of a metaphysical or spiritual nature, and it is also said that the trip is more spiritual than acid. Often used within religious groups and native americans (for whom the use of peyote is protected by law), peyote can be used in ceremonial context by shamans and community doctors. They are supposed to have magical effects and could be used to combat social ills and diseases. It is also said in Native American circles that consuming peyote can lead a man to his destiny and gives them insight. I was thoroughly fascinated by this information so I wanted to know about lophophora cultivation. This is where I guess the fascination ends because all lophophora species are extremely slow growing, often taking up to thirty years to reach flowering age in the wild. Though human cultivated plants grow much faster.

I found this amazing blog on lophophora cultivation and also this. I have also found a list of vendors who sell seeds and infants that have just germinated. The only thing holding me back is the legal consequences of getting this shipment to India. Hopefully, I will figure out something. The calcutta atmosphere is ideal for lophophora growth ….. hot and humid, the composition of the soil can also be simulated. The germination rate of seeds is 70-90%. I guess all I have to do is wait for 15 odd years for my own plant to flower….and then divine nirvana!

- Leelay