Following a mild shock, twinge of that indescribable empty feeling of loss slithered up my veins when I read that Kurt Vonnegut, one of my many writing gods, passed away.
Kurt Vonnegut 1922 – 2007 (Photo pilfered from Reuters)
There are so many things swirling at the back of my head to write about in my slavering esteem slash eulogy of him, then it hit me: whatever I write will probably be pitifully undeserving or laughably sophomoric at best.
Over the years I turn to him for snappy comebacks when I can’t urgently come up with something clever to say. And there are gazillions deliciously witty quotable quotes from the body of works by Kurt Vonnegut that I can spew in a given split-second, but let me punctuate this post with my most overused quote by him which is often directed towards the überinflated egos of pseudo artists and creative poseurs (evidently that includes myself) from The Sirens Of Titan which I will once more reproduce here:
“If you really want to hurt your parents, and you don't have the nerve to be a homosexual, the least you can do is go into the arts.”
If I am wise I should save myself from further embarrassments and shut up.
But I’m foolish, so I make my mourning public.