he's big! he's huge! he's
he's big! he's huge!
the dusty archives
write me, baby
Sweetness, I was only joking...
Obsessed, possessed, repressed... by Mel Whitehead
An amazing, all-inclusive David Foster Wallace site is now at: David Foster Wallace: A Collection of Online Resources
But check out what's said about me!
I find this funny. It's like this: I grew up in a hyper-competitive household, but I never had any chance at being the best at anything because my brother is like Wile E. Coyote, supergenius, but I mean for real. He doesn't screw up like Wile E. It was a very Franny and Zooeyhousehold (which is a weird analogy to make, because this was the book where I first learned of the Vedic text Mundaka Upanishad... anyway.). The brother was a chess champion, played sports, had artistic talent, etc etc. I could never win at Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit. But I tried. There was so little left for me to get excited about that the brother hadn't already tainted that the few things I found I became very enthusiastic about. Unfortunately they're all useless things. Like I know just about everything you can imagine about late 70s punk rock. I can quote lines from Dr. Strangelove and Lolita and 2001: A Space Odyssey. I used have a tremendous collection of early 80s b/w independent comic books. This strange form of competitiveness has carried over into my alleged adult stages. I know I know, you're saying where is she going with this horse... I guess what I'm trying to say is, when I find something/someone I like I just want to immerse myself in it/him/her in my quest to be the best. At something. This year it was David Foster Wallace. And he'll probably continue to be an obsession of mine. It's very beneficial to me to soak in his prose because little by little it rubs off on me and makes me a much better writer. And I think that's cool.
So, to wrap it up: