Back when I was a spacey adolescent, my inner world was peopled with the visions of Larry Niven, Harlan Ellison, Philip K. Dick, R. A. Lafferty, and dozens of other sf authors, from hard-sci to New Wave.  So, although he was never a tip-top favorite of mine, the apparent suicide of Thomas Disch served as a flashback, much as a particular smell will bring back associated memories.  Weird daydreams during study hall, long stargazing session, my old collections of Star Trek bric-a-brac, they all come back.   As little as I ultimately esteemed his work, owing no doubt partly to my own philistinism, the man could flat-out write, and he will be missed.  His passing makes me feel a little less cosmic, now.  More obits here and here and here.   *sigh* “Don’t let the past/ Remind us of what we are not now…”