Chapter 1
Fear and Loathing
Here, this room, this moment, I sit as musical vibrations are abound around me with a seven and a half dollar Dunhill cigarette, known for internationally for its fine flavor, drooping from between the slanted corners of my apathetic lips; this will be my last cigarette from the first half of the box, it’s the lucky, it’s the essence of every smokers superstitious habit, it’s the first cigarette spotted in the pack - left alone until called into service at a later undisclosed date and time. Times are changing, more vicious and volatile in this day of age where we are in a blind war against terror and the inner self itself. This upcoming age of adulthood, eighteen, is roaring up as a over-bored 427 Chevy Big Block Nova to run me over with it’s responsibilities.
Not if I have my say, that is, this rat-swine of a country isn’t going to prudentially push it’s agenda of global greed and dehumanization upon my white-hair-speckled head. In the cliché manner adopted by those who see the faults in society, I’ll resist it. The way I see it, the greatest of men rejected the standards of living set by the easily swayed consensus of the many. Review, reject, rebuild who I am. Rebuild myself into a inter-cooled twin-turbo quad-cam driven maniac. This way I’ll have the options, either scream away from social and economical responsibilities with torturous speed, or turn things around - aim for the heart of the beast - create a magnificent explosion of thought and reflection.
