Kurt Vonnegut died today he was 84. I think that's a good age to die. I think I'll aim for 84. I mean....we all have to kick the bucket, it's in the script_ right?

So why not pick the age you want to go and then work backwards to now and figure out how you're going to achieve that goal?

Reading my blog roll (is that something you eat? Would only a poet think that?) today, I came to Kristin's and she had a link to the NYT obit for Kurt Vonnegut. As I was reading the obit the word melancholy (I love words, don't you?) not only grazed my stream of consciousness, but infused my body...every fiber. I don't know why. I guess it one of those mysteries of the universe. I realized that I've always had a problem understanding that word, melancholy. It never conjured up an image in my mind before now. Don't misunderstand, I've had plenty of times when I was sad, despondent but the word melancholy never seemed to be the word to describe my feelings.

Kurt Vonnegut died today:

So it goes.

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His last book, in 2005, was a collection of biographical essays, “A Man Without a Country.” It, too, was a best seller.

It concludes with a poem written by Mr. Vonnegut called “Requiem,” which has these closing lines:

When the last living thing

has died on account of us,

how poetical it would be

if Earth could say,

in a voice floating up

perhaps

from the floor

of the Grand Canyon,

“It is done.”

People did not like it here.

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"The gravity is very light today. I have an erection as a result of that. All males have erections on days like this."

Kurt Vonnegut