The Rise and Fall of Rolling Stone

When i got to Rolling Stone, the party was over. I turned up just in time to see a cigarette floating in the last cocktail of the night. It was 1993, and I was in my mid-20s. I went on the road with the Rolling Stones, but they were cranky and old, bickering with reporters who called them the Strolling Bones. I hung out with Hunter S. Thompson in Woody Creek, Colorado, but he’d hurt his back and broken his leg and seemed ancient, drugged, and boozy, lost in a visionary delirium.
Read more: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/12/rolling-stone-jann-wenner/544107/?single_page=true?source=Snapzu