Sad news on the brink of tommorrow.

I've been working like "a ferret on speed, deep in the bowels" of the office building that houses my art studio; trying to get some serious work done for my art-opening, Mon.Feb.28. I've been quietly dealing with the realization that there will be no more Hunter S. Thompson rants on his ESPN2 column (http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/archive?columnist=hunter_s._thompson&root=page2),
no more articles from the gonzo realm of journalism, no more novels from this side of "the edge".
Supposedly he was tired of living with the pain of his injuries and surgeries, but this is looking like Hemingway's suicide; a man grown older than his legends, fights, vices and reputation. Like Hemingway, HST shot himself, last weekend. We'll see how his writing's endurance compares.

Just another thing to make me feel tired.