feyd

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., died today. He was 84 and 5 months old to the day.

If my digital camera were working, I would post a photo of my back piece, which is his tombstone from Slaughter-house Five.

I can barely manage to sum up what his writing taught me. He taught me that this world is a horrible place, but it is filled with beauty, too, and we have to take the good with the bad. He taught me it is okay to think the world is bad, as long as you don't use that as an excuse to treat people badly. He taught me not to use semi colons. He was a writer who taught me.

"We probably could have saved ourselves, but we were too damned lazy to try very hard ... and too damn cheap," he once suggested carving into a wall on the Grand Canyon, as a message for flying-saucer creatures.

Goodbye, Mr. Vonnegut. You never knew me, but I saw you speak once, and I couldn't afford the special ticket that let me meet you in person to show you my tattoo, but I saw you shake someone's hand and smile. It was a kind smile.

I'd say you are up in Heaven now, and I'd say it just to make you laugh.