Vonnegut made me a writer. Not a good one, perhaps. Trying to emulate the great - as improvisors know - is a fool's game. But I took what I could and applied it as effectively as I could with my own voice. I suffer from Writers' Stutter.
This is my first post under a name that I took from Vonnegut's work. I registered for the name a while back and am just now getting around to using it. "I was the victim of a series of accidents", Unk says in Sirens of Titan. Indeed.
The Unk name has other meanings too, but I'll cop to this one today. By way of introduction, and as something of a in-context farewell to Vonnegut, I've stolen the following from the VerticallyDark blogspot; some may recognize Sirens of Titan:
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Rented a tent, a tent, a tent;
Rented a tent, a tent, a tent.
Rented a tent!
Rented a tent!
Rented a tent, a tent, a tent.
It was, of course, the sound a snare drum once made on Mars when ten thousand marching infantry men formed into a hollow square on a parade ground of solid iron one mile thick. One of the soldiers in the parade was called Unk.....he was called Unk because it was a custom that officers who were busted down to private were given names like Pops, Gramps or Unk - Unk had been picked out by his buddies as the best soldier in the platoon. It turns out he was the platoon's fuck up.
Rented a tent, a tent, a tent;
Rented a tent, a tent, a tent.
Rented a tent!
Rented a tent!
Rented a tent, a tent, a tent.
That was the sound used to control the minds of the ten thousand soldiers on parade of which Unk was one.