The literary, science fiction, movie and geek worlds all lost the same person today. Arthur C. Clarke, perhaps best known for writing the story used in Stanley Kubrick’s mind-boggling 1968 masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey, died today at the age of 90.

I can’t say that I’m horribly familiar with the work of Mr. Clarke, aside from that movie, but somehow that’s enough. I have had an ongoing fascination with 2001 for most of my life. One of my earliest television memories is watching it during a Sunday night feature presentation when I was but a wee lad. Another one of my earliest television memories is seeing the infamous Star Wars Christmas special, with all of its camp dialogue and gratuitous Chewbacca awesomeness. Those two early and singular events are the most probable cause for my later fascination with Mystery Science Theater 3000, and all of its cathartic healing.

With the exception of most everything David Lynch has ever done, I consider 2001 to be one of the most baffling things ever committed to film. Every time I see it, I enjoy it more and more, and understand it less and less. It’s what I consider to be a wide-awake-and-sober stoner film. I expended a great deal of time and energy detailing this phenomenon in my book, so I won’t trouble you with repeating it here. But suffice it to say that the lessons learned in the movie should be considered nothing more than confusing red herrings. If at any point in your life you feel that you are beginning to understand what the movie is about, I highly suggest that you surround yourself with loving friends and family who will see to it that you get the help you deserve.

I am willing to accept that the book Mr. Clarke wrote may make more sense than the film, because I see no reason how it couldn’t. But I haven’t read the book, so I can’t say for sure.

But regardless, Arthur C. Clarke is no longer with us in this mortal coil. No doubt he escaped the slippery bonds of Earth earlier today, and brilliantly and epically turned into a star-baby, much like the ending of 2001. If you have a copy of Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra lying around, I would humbly suggest that now is the absolute perfect time to play it.