Posts tagged David Foster Wallace.
Happy bday to one of my favorite writers, David Foster Wallace. Rest in peace buddy.
SEVERAL weeks ago, a plastic surgeon in Virginia started a media frenzy when he publicized a new procedure that he said could help people look younger when they appear on Skype and other video chat services. He named the surgery the FaceTime Face-Lift, after the popular iPhone feature.
“People don’t come in asking for a FaceTime Face-Lift per se,” the surgeon, Dr. Robert K. Sigal, of the Austin-Weston Center for Cosmetic Surgery in Reston, Va., said in a YouTube video. “What they’ll say is that ‘I don’t like the way I look when I’m video chatting.’ ”
[…] Roughly a quarter of the 100 face-lift patients he has a year cited the way they look on webcams as a reason for going under the knife, he said, including his own wife. Dr. Malcolm Z. Roth, president of the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, said that other plastic surgeons had heard similar concerns.
David Foster Wallace is making his “I told you so” face. (Infinite Jest, p. 144-151)
Jesus DFW is my favorite.
i often believe that the only person who could ever fully comprehend my thoughts would be david foster wallace
to my infinite jest friends,
the sole decoration on my wall right now is a taped-up piece of paper that has in huge letters in black sharpie on it, “THE HERO OF NON-ACTION”.
having a hal incandenza moment if i will..
(if you don’t remember what i’m talking about hal at one point writes an essay comparing two famous people and one of them is the hero of non-action.. found the quote he writes: “We await, I predict, the hero of non-action, the catatonic hero, the one beyond calm, divorced from all stimulus, carried here and there across sets by burly extras whose blood sings with retrograde amines.” as far as i remember that line’s the only mention of it in the entire book.. but come on, guys, don’t you just FEEL the relevance of the line in your bones? anyone?)
“I never could figure out what the hell your url actually said.”
LMAO. I wonder how many of you guys feel the same way! I swear it has a reference and reasoning behind it. (No it’s not just about a dick)
i had the most amazing time playing tennis! it was so refreshing. i slipped right back into it again. my serve was beautiful. the guy i was playing with, kevin, was cute and a gentleman the whole way through. he was slightly better than me but kept conceeding me points and pretending that my shots were in when they weren’t, and he took the side where the sun was shining in his eyes, and made an excuse so he could stay there the whole game, and offered to drive me home, and we’re going to play twice a week from now on. it was great.
i was reminded of what the late and great david foster wallace said of tennis:
“that’s not the way a real player plays. With respect and due effort and care for every point. You want to be great, near-great, you give every ball everything. And then some. You concede nothing. Even against loxes. You play right up to your limit and then pass your limit and look back at your former limit and wave a hankie at it, embarking. You enter a trance. You feel the seams and edges of everything. The court becomes a… an extremely unique place to be. It will do everything for you. It will let nothing escape your body. Objects move as they’re made to, at the lightest easiest touch. You slip into the clear current of back and forth, making delicate X’s and L’s across the harsh rough bright green asphalt surface, your sweat the same temperature as your skin, playing with such ease and total mindless effortless effort and and and entranced concentration you don’t even stop to consider whether to run down every ball. You’re barely aware you’re doing it. Your body’s doing it for you and the court and Game’s doing it for your body. You’re barely involved. It’s magic, boy, Nothing touches it, when it’s right. I predict it. Facts and figures and curved glass and those elbow-straining books of yours’ lightless pages are going to seem flat by comparison. Static. Dead and white and flat. They don’t begin to… . It’s like a dance, Jim.”
going out today: wearing my ESCHATON shirt
time to make new friends
- Makers of the Modern Mind by Thomas Niell
- The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien
- In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O’Brien
- Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
- The Ancestor’s Tale by Richard Dawkins
- Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
- Simple Genius by David Baldacci
- The Truth-Teller’s Lie by Sophie Hannah
- True Believer by Nicholas Sparks
- Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
- Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
- The Time Machine by H.G. Wells
- The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
- The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls
- Between the Lines by Jodi Picoult & Samantha Van Leer
- The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
- The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
- When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris
- White Out by Ken Follett
- In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
- A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
- Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
- A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
- Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
This book is a mental catalyst, a lightning strike in the primordial ooze of the sub conscious. Read it, he knows where you live.
The truth is you already know what it’s like. You already know the difference between the size and speed of everything that flashes through you and the tiny inadequate bit of it all you can ever let anyone know. As though inside you is this enormous room full of what seems like everything in the whole universe at one time or another and yet the only parts that get out have to somehow squeeze out through one of those tiny keyholes you see under the knob in older doors. As if we are all trying to see each other through these tiny keyholes.
But it does have a knob, the door can open. But not in the way you think…The truth is you’ve already heard this. That this is what it’s like. That it’s what makes room for the universes inside you, all the endless inbent fractals of connection and symphonies of different voices, the infinities you can never show another soul. And you think it makes you a fraud, the tiny fraction anyone else ever sees? Of course you’re a fraud, of course what people see is never you. And of course you know this, and of course you try to manage what part they see if you know it’s only a part. Who wouldn’t? It’s called free will, Sherlock. But at the same time it’s why it feels so good to break down and cry in front of others, or to laugh, or speak in tongues, or chant in Bengali—it’s not English anymore, it’s not getting squeezed through any hole.
So cry all you want, I won’t tell anybody.”
- Please do not tell me that the book is about drugs and tennis. Because it’s not. It’s about addiction to anything, and being human, and feeling yourself slip away from reality and sometimes feeling yourself enter reality with a huge bang. It’s about learning to love yourself and realize yourself, and learning to love others as well. It’s about a lot of things in life, actually, but it’snotabout “post-modern Boston.”
- Everybody loves to shout around how the footnotes are GREAT, and what make the book, and they’re hilarious, and they’re the most important part, and you absolutely need to read them, they’re just wonderful. Okay, great, you saw that most people hate on the book for footnotes and you’re rebelling against that. Now can we hit a medium ground for reality? A moderate number of the footnotes were pretty funny, and a few of them (think: Pemulis, JOI’s shows) were extremely important. The rest of them? Paper-cut inducing, for the most part. I see what DFW was trying to get at (in interviews, he’s stated that he wanted footnotes for the reader to work hard to understand the novel, to really appreciate the physicality of the book they were reading) and I’m notupsetabout the footnotes whatsoever. I appreciate them. But let’s get real…. to those of you saying that the footnotes are what MAKE the book: you’re wrong.
- What’s with all of the hate saying that IJ is just a book for hipsters to show off how pretentious you are, and that people only read it to SAY that they’ve read it, and whatnot? You know what makes a book earn that title of “This is the very cool book to read and you’ll look intellectual and awesome if you do read it”? When it’s GOOD. Allow some readers the pleasure of knowing they read it because it’s beautiful, and not to gain some kind of warped popularity points.
Going through the IJ tags is pretty funny…
- first 100 pages of the book: will post the quote about Hal getting into the taxi and saying step on it to get to the library; will post the quote about crossing the dog and the dyslexic and god or whatever it is
- next 200 pages or so: will post meaningful dialogue between marathe and steeply…. about the only thing that’s easy to pick up on at this point; will post meaningful lesson from schtitt about tennis and how it relates to life; decent chance will post about marlon brando relating to tennis and life
- rest of the book: 1/20 of people starting the book get here… therefore there are a million posts about getting into the taxi and saying step on it, and proportionally speaking a HUGE lack of beautiful posts from the rest of the novel
- read the damn book!! worth it!