It's a morbid habit of mine to read about people's death. And, no, it's not like what you might think, I don't clap my hands or let out a joyous cry nor does it arouse me in the way you might be thinking, of which I'm of course not referring to anything.
Kurt Vonnegut (November 11, 1922 – April 11, 2007) died yesterday and then I found myself spending hours reading about the man and his work. Well, of course I knew who the hell Vonnegut was, but who he actually was only till now do I know. Interesting, isn't it? You have to be dead to catch the attention and interest of certain people who would otherwise never spend a damn second on you.
Why is that? Is it hindsight? Hypocrisy maybe? Probably both. It could also be that you're just too small to notice something that is not in the immediate precinct or of any actual tangible advantages. Just too damn bogged down in your goddamn little world and imagining and fabricating the world of wishful thinking. Once in a while the death of someone pulls you out of this shite and for 5 minutes you're all enlightened and all that, then you slip back to the hole, till the next death takes you out for another ride. So life goes on like that until one day it's you who would be taking someone else for a 5-minute-ride. And it ends there, as far as we know scientifically. Bravo.
Kurt Vonnegut (November 11, 1922 – April 11, 2007) died yesterday and then I found myself spending hours reading about the man and his work. Well, of course I knew who the hell Vonnegut was, but who he actually was only till now do I know. Interesting, isn't it? You have to be dead to catch the attention and interest of certain people who would otherwise never spend a damn second on you.
Why is that? Is it hindsight? Hypocrisy maybe? Probably both. It could also be that you're just too small to notice something that is not in the immediate precinct or of any actual tangible advantages. Just too damn bogged down in your goddamn little world and imagining and fabricating the world of wishful thinking. Once in a while the death of someone pulls you out of this shite and for 5 minutes you're all enlightened and all that, then you slip back to the hole, till the next death takes you out for another ride. So life goes on like that until one day it's you who would be taking someone else for a 5-minute-ride. And it ends there, as far as we know scientifically. Bravo.
1 comment:
Bah. He wasn't meaningful in life. He was a whiner about what COULD happen. Big deal. His ridiculous scenarios didn't and won't come to pass.
I don't like to stamp on the dead, but I'm not willing to glorify them simply because they no longer live. He was a misguided man, and the world is slightly better with his passing.
In other news, I kind of made fun of you in a new post, but in a good way. Let me know if it's offensive to you, and I'll yank it.
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