2001-05-12 - 11:30
belgium, man. belgium.
All you have to do is throw yourself at the ground and miss.
There was a terrible ghastly silence.
There was a terrible ghastly noise.
There was a terrible ghastly silence.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Douglas Adams is not allowed to die. That's just not supposed to happen. I'm in complete denial.
I told a friend about it and he said, "Whoa there. WHOA there. ...I don't get any kind of say in this, do I?"
I grew up on his stuff, you know. British humour--him and Python (which, of course, Adams had a hand in as well in the fourth series), basically--was a staple of my intellectual development. I listened to the original Hitchhiker's Guide radio series in the car on the way to school when I was eight, for god's sake.
It's like...
Someone once asked Pete Townshend how he'd been influenced by Bob Dylan. He said, "That's like asking how I was influenced by being born."
It's like...
There I was in grade school, minding my own business, having had no experience with the death of humans that I cared about. Then Jim Henson died. No warning. Boom. One day I got to school and I found out Jim Henson was dead. Something changed that day in the deepest layer of my outlook on the world.
That was the only day that could compare to this one. When writers die, worlds die with them.
I had more words than this, but I can't find them. I wish DNA could see the outpouring of love from his fans that I've been reading online all today. I hope he understood just how much he was loved, how much he mattered and will continue to matter for generations to come.
Someone asked today, "What do you think his last thoughts were?" The reply that another person gave was "Probably 'Ouch,' since he died of a heart attack," but the question brought something different to my mind.
They had been staring at it for fully ten minutes before they became aware that Marvin, hanging between their shoulders, was in difficulties. The robot could no longer lift his head, had not read the message. They lifted his head, but he complained that his vision circuits had almost gone.
They found a coin and helped him to the telescope. He complained and insulted them, but they helped him look at each individual letter in turn. The first letter was a "w," the second an "e." Then there was a gap. An "a" followed, then a "p," an "o," and an "l."
Marvin paused for a rest.
After a few moments they resumed and let him see the "o," the "g," the "i," the "z," and the "e."
The next two words were "for" and "the." The last one was a long one and Marvin needed another rest before he could tackle it.
It started with an "i," then "n," then "c." Next came an "o" and an "n," followed by a "v," and "e," another "n," and an "i."
After a final pause, Marvin gathered his strength for the last stretch.
He read the "e," the "n," the "c," and at last the final "e," and staggered back into their arms.
I think," he murmured at last from deep within his corroding, rattling thorax, "I feel good about it."
The lights went out in his eyes for absoloutely the very last time ever.
Luckily, there was a stall nearby where you could rent scooters from guys with green wings.
Farewell, Earthman. Life will be a great deal less weird without you.
I believe in yesterday --- I love ya, tomorrow
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What do you get when you multiply six by