My Own Private Fear and Loathing

Woke up with a start in the middle of the night.  Laid there in the darkness.  And just like in "A Clockwork Orange," a grand series of horrid images flooded across my consciousness.  It was like my eyelids were pinned back and I had to watch and relive all the painful episodes of my life.  All my failures, minor and major flooded in.  The pains, the heartaches, the humiliations.  

So weird.  Stuff that I thought was long dead and gone, came up.  I guess everything is imprinted on our brains, and none of it really goes away.  Kind of sent me into a tailspin in the darkness.  This morning everything seems bright and shiny.  But I see the scars.  And I know that the unseen scars are there too.

I'm thinking it was a mistake to watch Terry Gilliam's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" yesterday.  I remembered it as a pretty bad movie.  It's actually much worse than I remembered.  Just a terrible, horrid piece of work.  You'd think it should be good.  Love HST's book.  Johnny Depp and Benecio Del Toro are well-cast.  Gilliam is a pretty good filmmaker (see Brazil).  But this one is a total mis-fire. A failure of epic proportions.

Maybe watching all that on screen gibberish started my brain on a downward spiral.  Yes, let's chalk up the tailspin to Gilliam's botch job on "Fear and Loathing."