(echoes from my so-blogged life)
I can't think of too many people as chronically witty, intelligent and prolific as this man. Of those whose existence temporarily coincided with mine, that is.*
*See, Washington? David Letterman isn't the only good "thing" to come out of Indiana.
Posted by thirdworstpoetinthegalaxy at 8:00 AM Labels: death, literature
3 comments:
Neither can I,powerful, beautiful icon. He will be missed.
You're the sixth or seventh blogger on my roll today to do a tribute. I'm just going to get stoned and watch Slaughterhouse Five for the upteenth time.
And thanks to DS for gifting me Timequake — and so reacquainting me with Vonnegut — a couple years back.
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