Pressing The Flesh

Friday, April 13, 2007

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.

Posted by FleshPresser at 1:23 PM /

2 Comments

Meghan posted at 8:33 PM
Where did you go?? You were blogging again (and I was very happy about it) and then you went away.

Please come back and share your wit and wisdom.

r. burns posted at 5:18 PM
I was simply browsing the net when I came across this post. I smiled because I posted almost the same words on the same subject, "So it goes."

Sarah