The Church of God the Utterly Indifferent

I was listening to "Taking Tiger Mountain," the final track on Brian Eno's Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy, when I read that Kurt Vonnegut had died. The song's opiate guitar plucking and simple lyrics [We climbed and we climbed, / Oh, how we climbed / My, how we climbed / Over the stars to the top / of Tiger Mountain / Forcing the lines through the snow."] seemed sentimentally appropriate.

I read most of Vonnegut's books when I was younger, and to be honest they've all kind of blended together. The one image I will never forget is a sketch he made within the text of Breakfast of Champions, in which he mentions a "wide-open beaver." He proceeds to draw the semi-aquatic rodent, then indicates that this is not the beaver of which he writes. Below it he draws a woman's vagina, which is, in fact, the beaver in question.

I must have been about thirteen, which would explain any errors in my recitation. It also explains the tremendous fascination with, and fear of, female genitalia I've had ever since.

God bless you, Mr. Vonnegut.