But I did have the pleasure of meeting you once, back when I was about 15. I had just read Slaughterhouse Five and you asked me for my thoughts on it. My thoughts. A 15 year old. I don’t remember what I said–or, what really kills me, what you said–but the profound impression remained that you could be someone with so many brilliant things to say and still know you have things to learn. Even from a kid.
“When Hemingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life,” you once said. “Old age is more like a semicolon.”
I’d like to think you lived like a big old exclamation point. You don’t get that just from farting around.
RIP Kurt Vonnegut, 1922-2007