Robert Anton Wilson

Robert Anton Wilson died on January 11th.

Robert Anton Wilson at Wikipedia

rawilson.com

His last blog post, from December 19th:

"Various medical authorities swarm in and out of here predicting I have between two days and two months to live. I think they are guessing. I remain cheerful and unimpressed. I look forward without dogmatic optimism but without dread. I love you all and I deeply implore you to keep the lasagna flying.

Please pardon my levity, I don't see how to take death seriously. It seems absurd.

RAW"

I think that deep down inside, despite all of his enlightened agnosticism, he still hoped that after death he would be reunited with his beloved Arlen, somehow.

Amal and I once woke up at 5 am on a Saturday so we could get to the city in time, to some school in Harlem or thereabouts, for some New Age festival, just to see him speak. He was in a wheel chair. Afterwards, I had an opportunity to walk up to him as he waited for his van outside the school, and I couldn't, because I didn't want to bother him, or somehow upset him.

I will re-read all of his books, and watch the documentary about him, again, once we unpack in Dallas.

I regret not shaking his hand that day.

"And the phone went dead with a sudden dull click like the last sound Hemmingway heard when he put the gun to his head and said, ah, shit, now, not any other minute but this minute, right now."
- Robert Anton Wilson, "Thirteen Choruses For the Divine Marquis"