Okay. Fuck. Fuck it. I have something to say.
There's this written in the wake of the suicide of David Foster Wallace. It was inspired by this.
One could respond with anger.
I prefer to respond like this:
The great genius of David Foster Wallace is seen in this response. Three years ago, Wallace's power to both observe and accurately render the portrait of this tiny, tiny man left a huge scar across the tiny, tiny man's psyche. He has carried this pasting with him.
He has carried it and carried it. And he has held it close. He has held this pain very very close.
And only when the tiny, tiny man was confronted with a situation where the man who hurt him so very deeply—by seeing through right to the core of him, seeing him for the tiny, tiny man that he is—only when that man could no longer respond did the tiny, tiny man choose to stick his tiny, tiny head out of the tiny, tiny hole in which he has hidden—hidden from the much greater man—and respond.
Of course this is cowardice. But pity the tiny, tiny man. He was written about by David Foster Wallace. He was the subject of an honest portrait from David Foster Wallace. You, too, would still be smarting, if you were in his position.
9 comments:
yeah that guy is a sad sack. i still want to eat his young and spit it back in his mouth. but yeah, his own sadness burgeoning in his liver will burs this face for him not too long from now
"There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says 'Morning, boys. How's the water?' And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes 'What the hell is water?'"
David Foster Wallace
I think that guy was saying, "What the hell is water?"
i didn't like my comment anymore.
I'm sorry you had "comment regret." If it makes you feel any better, I liked it.
I miss comments I haven't read that have been deleted.
I have been working with blinders on since the 11th and just found about about DFW's death. I am looking everywhere for a place to go and have a good cry but I'll have to wait for a couple more days. I can't even explain it but this blog has helped me get through the next few days unti I can get to my copy of IJ and read all my favorite parts out loud until I am laughing so hard that I cry or crying so hard that I laugh. Then I am going to read the 23 page piece about the tiny tiny man, and enjoy David's genius all over again. Having only read the tiny man's sad little piece, I can only trust that your take on the situation was spot freakin' on.
Thank you again for your gift of Oblivion. I still can't imagine rereading it any time soon, as a few people I know have done in recent days. I don't have a prodigious or exact memory, but I do remember there was an opening story with a footnote about a man who didn't look like he missed any meals, and a story that included an observation about looking everyone over when boarding a bus, which is exactly what I think of when I get on BART, and this happens twice a day.
Apparently, instead of actually having authenticity, this guy [err, I forgot his name, it starts with a Z? Ziegler? I don't really care] would prefer faking it for his radio show, where he can 'argue' [i.e.: yelling, control of switchboard] until he wins.
I don't think he understands that the adoration of DFW has nothing to do with what other people think of him, or that he killed himself - ooh, we have to support him! It is because, before his death [which I am still reeling from],he was by a great margin the best living author, and upon his death is currently one of the best ever [in my estimation the best, but that is, at least, debatable and probably a function of the times I've lived in].
On the other hand, he was probably just looking for reasons to attack DFW. Maybe it would work on people who never read him. It's more of a byproduct of vitriolic hatred.
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