Only one reason why I think that the If Charlie Parker Was a Gunslinger,
There’d Be a Whole Lot of Dead Copycats blog is awesome:

Kurt Vonnegut is right up there with Haruki Murakami, Milan Kundera, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, and Buddha as my own personal Jesus.

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.