Monday, April 15, 2013

David Foster Wallace

 I never really knew him. We went to the same school for our MFA's and at parties the dude was always surrounded by girls. They already knew he was the heavy hitter. I was just trying to get my arms around Hemingway and Fitzgerald but David already had his arms around everything. And then he went off and became famous. I went to the bakery and worked the night shift and hacked out crappy novels nobody wanted.
And then I read Infinite Jest. Stopped somewhere you know in the beginning. Information overload. They say he was a very depressed dude and tell you the truth I couldn't follow his novel. But I mean this was the shit. Everyone said he was the man. Out pynchoned Pynchon and all. Just like at school everyone surrounded the dude and knew he was the man.
And by now I had gotten some printer to publish my first book. All emotion you know. Life shit. I wasn't into information the way David was. I just saw life the way it was. People  struggled liked hell and then they died. In between was life. That's what I wrote about.
Then David committed suicide and the literary world mourned. I had quit my job renting apartments and was struggling along doing loans and writing on the side. I read all the obituaries and I even went back to read Infinite Jest. Couldn't stick to it. The dude was brilliant. Lot of information. Like at that party man way back when.
Everyone knew he was the man.

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