fifteen teenage girls crushed at my last concert, baby / fifteen teenage girls, crushed against the stage... -James Kochalka Superstar
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April 12, 2007


Kurt Vonnegut
1922 - 2007

Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut is the closest thing I�ve had to a hero. His novels were by no means great works of literature in the traditional sense, but as thematic, semiautobiographical riffs on the human condition, they spoke to me in ways that no other books have. Plus they�re funny as hell.

Cursed with a well-earned pessimism concerning life on this earth amongst both the kind and unkind souls who surround us, I really thought he was going to live forever. Surely longer, at least, than the 84 years he ended up with.

So it goes.

trois man, you update about as often as I do now! but i'm trying to be better now. miss ya. --g Thursday, May 10, 2007, 11:37:18 PM � Flag � Like � Reply � Delete � Edit � Moderate [This user is an administrator] diesel When I heard he passed away, I thought of you. I think you've referenced him in your entries or something because you were one of the first people who popped into my head when I heard he died. Well, second to Sean. He is a big Vonnegut fan. Last year he visited OSU and we were going to go but something came up and I think Sean really regrets it now. Thursday, April 12, 2007, 9:33:55 PM � Flag � Like � Reply � Delete � Edit � Moderate [This user is an administrator] lap Mark, that image I posted is from here. Which is about the most fitting thing ever I think. I was reminded also that it's my Nana's birthday, and it's a bit sad to realize that she isn't alive to turn 99 today. I am sort of hoping she and Kurt are snickering up in some mixer in Heaven. Thursday, April 12, 2007, 12:56:03 PM � Flag � Like � Reply � Delete � Edit � Moderate [This user is an administrator] lap I am trying really hard to at least appreciate that I just found this out from you. That's what I get for watching Angel reruns in the morning instead of news, and for listening to CDs instead of radio. After looking for Breakfast of Champions for the past year at Half-Price Books, I finally scored a hard-cover that was at some point stolen from the public library, and so felt like I scored. I love Vonnegut so much, and loved how everyone who read him seemed to respond strongly to such different titles. Me, Breakfast of Champions was my first love, but I equally adore Jailbird and Bluebeard. My heart is heavy now. Thursday, April 12, 2007, 10:41:44 AM


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People Who Are Way Smarter than Me

"The thing he was about to do was open a diary. This was not illegal (nothing was illegal since there were no longer any laws), but if detected it was reasonably certain that it would be punished by death...."
- George Orwell,
Nineteen Eighty-Four

"In addition, I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip."
- John Kennedy Toole,
A Confederacy of Dunces

"I told my students that when they were writing they should be good dates on blind dates, should show strangers good times. Alternatively, they should run really nice whorehouses, come one, come all, although they were in fact working in perfect solitude. I said I expected them to do this with nothing but idiosyncratic arrangements in horizontal lines of twenty-six phonetic symbols, ten numbers, and maybe eight punctuation marks, because it wasn't anything that hadn't been done before."
- Kurt Vonnegut,
Timequake

"Your work is so meaningless, so fully for yourself alone, and so worthless to the world, that no one except you cares whether you do it well, or ever."
- Annie Dillard,
The Writing Life

"...I found myself a moment later descending a more or less perpendicular hill in an entirely involuntary fashion, bounding through the woods with great leaps and outflung arms in a manner oddly reminiscent of George Chakiris in West Side Story, except of course that this was Wales and George Chakiris didn't shit himself with terror, before eventually, after several bouncing somersaults and an epochal eighty-yard slide on the stomach, ending up on the very lip of a giddy precipice, with a goggle-eyed view of the glittery Wye a hundred feet below. I cast my gaze back along my suddenly motionless body to find that my left foot had fortuitously snagged on a sapling. Had the sapling not been there, I would not be here."
- Bill Bryson,
Notes from a Small Island

"They'll never catch the guy in the storm trooper getup at the comic con!"
- Max

"Everyone carries a room about inside him."
- Franz Kafka