Unstuck in Time.

Kurt Vonnegut died today. He was 84.

I heard the news while getting the shop ready for the morning opening. It came over the radio behind a little sound blurb about aggravated passengers stuck in the freak spring snows. The news hit me with a wave of emotions that forced me to come to the blog. In order to make sense of them, you see.

At first I couldn't believe it. Kurt Vonnegut couldn't die. He was always a survivor, his fiction is based on surviving. The firebombing in Slaughter House Five, the neutrino bomb in Deadeye Dick, and Ice-9 in Cat's Cradle. But he is dead. Motherfucker.

Then I was angry! SO ANGRY! This was the first time where an artist that spoke to me had ever passed away. I always understood that Kurt Cobain and John Lennon were important people, but I could never wrap my head around why people were just so distraught by their deaths. I can understand now, and empathize, instead of just sympathizing. Knowing that your favorite artists, writer, musician, whatever will never ever create again is much different then knowing they are retired or refusing to work. The latter always includes potential energy.

I was also angry because, in his later years, Vonnegut became a bit cranky, coming out of retirement to write Man Without A Country because of his contempt for Dubya. I compare him to Mark Twain, who in his later life became incredibly acerbic and cantankerous. However, Vonnegut always kept his compassion, his love of humor and the little guy.

I was so angry. So angry that I just had to get on my soapbox and yell all day. A great American writer just died, but I bet more people card about who got voted off American Idol. His death would get one, two, maybe three days, in the press and then just fade away. Meanwhile we still hear so much about Anna Nicole Smith. I think Vonnegut would see all this as just one big practical joke.

Vonnegut called himself a man without a country, but I believe he always had one. He was uniquely American, a real patriot, because it is artists, creators, not destroyers, like him that make this country great. How funny is it that "patriotism" is associated with such abstract concepts as "freedom" or "democracy," when we should be proud of what we have contributed and created! Our arts make us unique. In our short history we have created entire genres and styles that are used the world over. To get back to Mark Twain, he said, "A patriot supports his country all the time and his government when it deserves it." If you want to celebrate America, rip off the stupid magnetic ribbon from the back of your car and read! READ! Read Vonnegut, Hemingway, Poe, Morrison, Dickinson, Kesey, Hawthorne, Oates, Emerson, Thoreau, Faulkner, O'Connor! American artists have carved out a true identity for this country. Not more than 100 years ago, American arts were considered callow and juvenile. Charles Dickens thrashed America more than any of the leftists the right wingers love to prattle about! These people, these countrymen, carved out an identity for this country not at the end of a saber, but with words! You did have a country Kurt! You helped make it!
So angry. Motherfucker.

I am sorry for the rant. I don't like rants as they are easy to pick apart and heavy on rhetoric, light on subject. I believe Kurt Vonnegut to be a great American writer worthy of timeless study and praise. It just made me mad that know the celebrity gossip of the day will trump 50 years of literature. However, literature endures; pop fades.

Sorry for the anger in general. I am bit cranky myself with the move and the job hunt. My old blog was filled with rants. That is why you don't see my old blog anymore.

Finally, I became sad. I cried. Just a little. I will miss Kurt Vonnegut.

In his last book he said that when he died he would ask someone up in heaven what all the fuss was about. I hope he got his answer.

"Life is no way to treat an animal." KV

Peace!