07 March 2009

Sadness in America

I pretty much sucked at posting this week, but I did read D.T. Max's New Yorker article on David Foster Wallace, which led me to read a 1996 Salon interview with Wallace.

I recommend both.

This excerpt from the Salon interview now resides in my journal (and keeps banging around my little brain):

I wanted to do something sad. I'd done some funny stuff and some heavy, intellectual stuff, but I'd never done anything sad. And I wanted it not to have a single main character. The other banality would be: I wanted to do something real American, about what it's like to live in America around the millennium.

There's something particularly sad about it, something that doesn't have very much to do with physical circumstances, or the economy, or any of the stuff that gets talked about in the news. It's more like a stomach-level sadness. I see it in myself and my friends in different ways. It manifests itself as a kind of lostness. Whether it's unique to our generation I really don't know.
I feel like I connect with Wallace a lot, which is a little scary considering, you know, that whole depression/suicide thing. I've only read essays and short stories by Wallace, but now Infinite Jest is high up on my books-to-read list.

Anywho, I'm going to be away from the intertubes until Wednesday. Take it easy, friends.

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