Yesterday, I finished Kurt Vonnegut’s Bogombo Snuff Box. And yesterday he died. He’d retired from writing books, and from what he’s written about old age, I’m sure he was as ready as one can be for the experience. Still, he was a bright, clear glass lightbulb who burned strong for a long time, and they don’t make that kind anymore. There can’t be another Vonnegut any more than there can be another Hemingway or Dorothy Parker or whomever: we had that; now it’s our responsibility to be the next thing. But somehow it doesn’t feel like it’s possible to stand out like that now.
I picked up another collection of his today, which I’d planned to do anyway (I’m not a fanboy or a vulture, I swear). Bogombo was a collection of his earliest stories, which all took place in a rather normal, Modern (Fifties and Sixties) world. “Company men” and subdivisions and marriage issues only capture my imagination so much — and even he, in the coda, said that he regarded those stories (which he wrote in order to make money from periodicals) as “fake fossils” now. I’m looking forward to getting more of the fantastic in this other collection.
Ooh, and I had a massive writing session last night in which I mapped out everything I have of the novel so far. It’s really coming together now. Chapters will not be not far off.
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p>I’ve been making deliberate choices about the music I’m listening to lately: I’ve bought albums by a few people who are going completely independent, producing and selling their music on their own with no commercial intermediaries. I like that, so I’m supporting it. And it’s not like it’s a hair-shirt punishment, ’cause it’s so darned good. Here are my three recent finds:
- Kate Walsh, Tim’s House
- Jay Brannan, Unmastered
- Van Tramp, Wheels of Fortune
The latter is my friend Tim’s band, and the album is really strong. There are some better-than-radio-sh*te hits on it that have that “personal theme song of the summer” feel.
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p>It would be fun to try just listening to music by real people I know.