America lost a great literary voice yesterday with the death of Kurt Vonnegut. Those of you familiar with Billy Pilgrim, Tralfamadore, and Kilgore Trout will know of what I speak.
As a theatre artist, I find myself often jealous of those who create more permanent work. While theatre comes and goes, there are those forms of art like painting, or film, or novels, which exist in one form or another beyond their creation.
Vonnegut's work will surely exist and thrive well beyond the mere end of his physical existence. And if we're to think that Vonnegut believed any of what he wrote, it's calming to think he saw it coming.
It seems I fall off the radar screen every so often, but this time it's at least somewhat legitimate, as we are in the process of boxing up and moving PTF headquarters. Not a geographically significant move, but a move nonetheless.
We'll be back, and please accept the apologies. No need to adjust your sets.