GONZO MAGAZINE: The Story
{ PLEASE, DO NOT SUE ME RALPH STEADMAN OR ANY RELATIVES OF THE LATE HUNTER THOMPSON. I AM JUST A SUPERFAN, AND THIS IS A SCHOOL PROJECT. {
If you really care to know much about me or why I did this project just know: I am the OG sad girl. When I was a teen, I thought the world would end. Hell, I hoped it did.
I wanted to live and die to see everything explode, every car, every bank and every bastard. Everything we all worked so hard for, what made us so bloody important. Gone. There was just no hope, there was nothing but bad news and body counts. Both hell, and heaven, it was nothing but digital. Each day we read scripts, played parts and pretended not to have feelings. No sadness, no depressions, no anger just dead inside. So, what are we waiting for then? We won’t have to compete anymore, for the highest counts or rates, because deep down we all know that in reality — there is no winner. There are just the losers and the pretenders.
Our society is monolithic, just pathetic and we can’t even use our own past to learn and make a better future. Who do you think owns the biggest bomb, and could I get to it? One button and it could all end. Each one of us, us individuals, we think we can’t change the world. When we don’t even try. So, we live wasting in complete waste, pagans of potential. Pagan is just another word for depression, in disguise. Our potential is pick-pocketed by the puppets and politicians, because they can afford to buy it from our tiny hands.
Long story short: fashion saved me from that. Sort of.
Anyway this is nothing more than my corrupted, cynical and questionably nihilistic views on the world. Mainly fashion. For I chose gonzo because of my love for Ralph Steadman and his work really. I also sort of relate to Hunter Thompson. Especially when it comes to politics, anarchy! America, cynicism (see above) and well the outcome. On jimmy carter too while we’re at it. But mainly just being a self-hating narcissist. Traditionally sabotaging. A hypocrite, especially when it came to money. Always in pain because we both knew how painful this world is and how much there is potential to make it better but how it won’t get better. Ballistic but mute. Tormented but free. Not good enough. Nothing but a cynic, an object of self-sabotage with a pen and paper.
