I need to discover my karass

Vonnegut is dead.
Though I realize his time had come, that doesn't change the weird and subtle feeling of loss that I am feeling. Yes, he lived a good life; he has said his peace. But if there was one living author I would've liked to have met, (as of the 10th), it would've been Kurt Vonnegut. I had read Slaughterhouse Five a while back, and Cat's Cradle came afterwards, but I didn't read Sirens of Titan until last December. That book, along with a few Camus novels, severly altered my perspective on life in general. I rarely feel sad when some random famous person dies; when Hunter S. kicked the bucket, I was definetely bummed, but though I love his writing he hasn't ever reached me like Vonnegut has.

Beethoven is playing on my stereo, and I am feeling nostalgic for meetings that have never even occurred. His persistent question, "what would you do if...?", has most likely inspired countless degenerate and despondent youth to break the shackles of stagnation and make something out of their lives. Cheers, Mr. Vonnegut, and...I hope you're in heaven. Wink.