So it goes

Kurt Vonnegut has died. A great author and by all accounts a pretty cool bloke.

Bummer.

I loved Slaughterhouse 5, not really read much of his other stuff. In fact I am a little unsure as to why I am even writing this blog entry.

Seemed like a good idea at the time I guess. Why do people feel compelled to say things about famous people that died? Remember where you were when you found out Diana died, remember how you felt?

I think I was a little unsympathetic as I was woken by a friend who told me and I was pretty hungover. Once I thought about it I felt sympathy for her, her kids and family but I was unable to work up to the level of hysteria which seemed to grip the country. It seemed a little forced to me. I watched TV and saw people sobbing and I didn't understand. How could that compare to losing a member of your family? Someone you have known since you were a child? Compared to that the death of anyone, even a princess pales.

Yes, it's really sad when anyone dies and it's nice that we feel something about that but remember that we do't know them. We don't know anything but what we read or see on the television. They could be the best people on earth or they could be complete scum. We aren't mourning them we are mourning their public persona and for their family

I find this odd, in myself and in others but I guess it's not a bad thing. At least we feel something.

Nowt queer as folk.