Er, I mean, so it goes. It's been awhile since I last read a Vonnegut novel; actually, no, I think I read The Sirens of Titan over the summer, which was an amazing ride, but from which I remember almost nothing. Still, I know it's shaped my mind in some way that I deeply appreciate from one of the authors that makes me proud to be an American. Does that sentence make sense? I kinda switched thoughts in the middle of it. So it goes.
In any case, Kurt Vonnegut is dead. The man, the myth, the legend, the cat, the cradle. SEE THE CAT? SEE THE CRADLE? God, I hope they don't invent that ice particle that turns everything into ice. He came to speak at Tufts; I was kinda hoping he'd show up again. Whatever, maybe in my dreams. That'd be scary. Actually, this is one man's funeral I'd go to. I'd go there, and sit there with one of his books in hand, and hope that the book I chose isn't ironic with respect to the fact that I'm at his funeral. That'd suck. What I mean is, well, imagine me going to Dante's funeral with a copy of The Inferno, not knowing what it's about and only reading it for the first time. That'd make me look bad.
Why don't I remember anything from Sirens of Titan? I should investigate it on Wikipedia.
Oh, yes, I remember the ending: that shit was positive.
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2 comments:
just kinda realized, he's an alum of cornell. it was in the paper, yeah
class of '44
her'e shte article
Your paper has podcasts? Are you kidding me?
Jeez, the Old Gold and Black looks like it's in the stone ages compared to The Sun.
And although I don't appreciate Vonnegut as much as everyone else, he truly was an American master. And he will be missed.
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