Rest in Peace, Literary Hero ~

I can’t believe Kurt Vonnegut died.

He’s a hero, an inspiration, a legend — for some. His work is incredible. The wit, dark humor, significant undertones. And as I look through these photographs, I can’t help but to think he lived his dream... or died it, rather. He is a modern day Mark Twain. And he will be remembered.

I have so much to say, I can’t say anything at all.

Instead, I’m reminded of a memory: of the first time I stood at the foot of Jean Paul Sartre’s grave, taking in treasures people left for him every day. It was a feeling; something that knocked the wind from your lungs, overwhelmed your limbs, swam to your head. It was what compelled me to drop my not-yet-finished subway pass among the many others that blew ever so gently in the wind. And it stayed with me as I slowly, deliberately, stepped away.


There are still many works by both I have yet to read. Some, I dared to leave unfinished. I’m not a devotee, a fanatic, obsessed. But I am influenced. They did move me — both of them — impacting my life in some way I have yet to articulate. Or even understand.


More than anything, they’re giants in my perception of the recent history of the world. They made their mark, altered some course of something-or-other, and will never be forgotten for it. I mean, who doesn’t know about Jean Paul Sartre or Kurt Vonnegut Jr.?

I feel sorry for those who don’t.