Thank You, Rabo Karabekian.

I had an email from a friend earlier this am, letting me know that Kurt Vonnegut had died. Many others will write more eloquently on the subject, than me. I am just sorta speechless right now. Kurt Vonnegut has been one of my favorite authors since college. How it took me so long to get into him I will never know.

A friend, John Ownens, the one kid at my small Christian college who had a Joy Division and Bauhaus t-shirt lent me Breakfast of Champions. From then I was hooked. I mean in that book he showed me what an asshole looked like. I would have no idea if it wasn't for his illustration. And now I know.

After that I read Bluebeard and remember crying. I remember my senior quote in my college yearbook was attributed to Rabo Karabekian.

I remember reading Mother Night one extremely stormy afternoon in my apartment. I remember for some reason I had Massive Attack's Mezzanine cd playing. I remember I was certain the world was coming to an end, or at least my apartment was getting smaller.

When I moved to Indianapolis, I remember searching out Indianapolis streets and street corners from some of his books. Vonnegut lived in New York at the end of his life, but, I think there are few of those in Indy whom have read his books that don't in a way consider him ours. Not in a selfish sense, but just in a sense of civic pride. And moreso than that, probably gratitude.

I'm not an enormous fan of short stories. But I gobbled up short stories by Vonnegut and J.D Salanger. There is a short story by Vonnegut that to this day remains possibly my favorite short story ever. In my mix tape making days I remember very badly wanting to make a tape for a girl and label one side "through leaves" and the other side "over bridges." I still want to make that tape. I just need to find that girl. I hope she has a cassette player still. She will.

That story was A Long Walk To Forever. Take the time to read it if you haven't already. If you have read it before, read it again.

Thank you, Kurt Vonnegut.