The Rum Diary

I just finished reading the book The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson. It was a pretty decent book and I think they're making it into a movie starring Johnny Depp soon. I wanted to share the last couple of paragraphs of the book with you:

"He leaned back and said nothing. It was almost dawn, but Nelson Otto was still lingering at his piano. The song was "Laura" and the sad notes floated out to the patio and hung in the trees like birds too tired to fly. It was a hot night, with almost no breeze, but I was feeling cold sweat in my hair. For lack of anything better to do, I studied a cigarette burn in the sleeve of my blue oxford-cloth shirt... Down on the waterfront I could hear the slow clang of a ship's bell as it eased against the pier, and somewhere in the city a motorcycle roared through the narrow streets, sending its echo up the hill to Calle O'Leary. Voices rose and fell in the house next door and the raucous sound of a jukebox came from a bar down the street. Sounds of a San Juan night, drifting across the city through layers of humid air; sounds of life and movement, people getting ready and people giving up, the sound of hope and the sound of hanging on, and behind them all, the quiet, deadly ticking of a thousand hungry clocks, the lonely sound of time passing in the long Caribbean night."

For some reason these words really hit me. I just felt like I was there sitting with them, sipping on rum and looking out into the blue, empty ocean. But then again it has a sense of hopelessness. Wasted time and youth. Maybe I just need a vacation..?