Kurt Vonnegut is my absolute favorite writer. I realize how pedestrian this is. Hey, at least it’s not still Stephen King and Judy Blume. At least it’s not Ayn Rand.
So now that I’ve outed my literary deal-breakers, let me get to the point. I just finished “Deadeye Dick” and, in light of the launch of this blog and my general self-obsession, the following quote stood out:
It may be a bad thing that so many people try to make good stories out of their lives. A story, after all, is as artificial as a mechanical bucking bronco in a drinking establishment.
This was written in 1982, one year before I was born and about 26 years before I decided my story was good enough to tell to the Internet. There’s got to be a lesson here. Unfortunately, it’s the 4th of July, 72 degrees in Portland and I have a pint and a half of Alaskan amber beer to finish before I ride my bike to the waterfront, so I don’t exactly have the will to figure it out.