I am so tempted to start reading the book Nik lent me (The Unbearable Lightness of Being) but I need to finish Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas first. I had promised my classmate who loan me the book to persist and finish the book even though I reaaaaaally do not like it so far. What is up with the guys in the book anyway. They're like angry men feeling disgruntled about the fact that they are going through a mid-life crisis so they find some kind of comfort in doing drugs of all sorts. I find my brows furrowing with frustration at these characters and rolling my eyes at the author's feeble attempt to appear witty.
It's almost as though Hunter S. Thompson wrote this book when he was high and he decided to publish it as a joke, secretly laughing at people who actually say that they love it. I applaud his attempt to appear as though he doesn't give two fucks about what people think about his book.
Reminds me of the time I forced myself to plough through The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger. (That's another book I hated by the way.)
-.-
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