Monday, March 2, 2009
27 years ago today, Philip K Dick died of complications following a series of severe strokes.
There's some nice stuff in the comments, people talking about what PKD and his death meant to them:
Robert Cook writes:
"I still remember how I learned of his death: I had been living in Manhattan for not quite a year, having moved up from Florida, and I was working at the Sheraton Hotel out by LaGuardia Airport in Queens. I had got off work at midnight, and I had to take a bus to the closest subway, then two trains to get back to my Upper West Side apartment. Usually I would wait by the bus stop on the corner, but I would sometimes ride the hotel shuttle bus over to the airport and pick up the bus there. I did this on this evening, and I sat down on the bus in an empty seat. Someone had left the day's New York Times on the seat next to me, so I picked it up to have something to read on the 90 minute commute back home. (I'm now working in Manhattan, as well as living here, so my commute is quicker!) Anyway, I was paging through the paper and we had just exited the airport property when I came across a rather large obituary for Philip K. Dick. I was stunned, both for the shock of learning Dick had died, and for the unexpected and serendipitous way I had learned of it! I'll always remember that night and that bus ride when PKDick manifested himself to me in the NY Times in the form of his obituary."
And there's an interesting tribute over at Republibot - which is apparently a Conservative-leaning blog dissecting science fiction from the Right.