April 12th, 2007
|08:16 am - The Last Rites of the Bokononism (foma! nothing but foma!)|
God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, "Sit up!"
"See all I've made," said God, "the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars."
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God.
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn't have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn't even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait...
To find out for certain what my wampeter was...
And who was in my karass...
And all the good things our karass did for you.
1922 - 2007
It's my favorite part of Cat's Cradle. Even if it is lies, all lies, it is so beautiful in its simplicity.
Cat's Cradle is one of maybe 6 books I've read that doesn't fall into the categories of Harry Potter, Animorphs, Choose Your Own Adventure, or Goosebumps. I've been meaning to pick up more of his books, and I might actually get around to it now. I just have terrible book-reading perseverance, so unless a book is really interesting, I quit. Cat's Cradle made the cut.
Also, if possible, I'd like to retract my previous comment, and replace it with the following:
So it goes.
I started with Galapagos when it came out in paperback; I in the ninth or tenth grade, I think, and was hooked the instant he put an asterisk next to the name of someone who was going to die in the next twenty-four hours. I subsequently read every single thing available that he wrote, with the exception of Happy Birthday Wanda June, which was notoriously hard to come by in bookstores.
This, he said, was his only good poem:
We do, doodley do, doodley do, doodley do,
What we must, muddily must, muddily must, muddily must;
Muddily do, muddily do, muddily do, muddily do,
Until we bust, bodily bust, bodily bust, bodily bust.
Cat's Cradle was the first Kurt Vonnegut novel I ever read, and it's still my favorite.
I know he lived a long, full, amazing life, but I still can't think about this too much yet.
Well, it was long enough, sure. Full? I'll grant that it was eventful. Amazing? It can't be said it wasn't dramatic.
But it was terrible, and he hated it.
Poor god damn guy. He tried so hard to save the world. He tried with everything he had and he used it all up and he died so very long ago.