R.I.P. David Foster Wallace

I've talked about David Foster Wallace before. He is without a doubt my all time favorite writer. I just finished reading his book A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. It was delightful. It's a collection of essays and articles that he wrote for major publications in their entirety. There were so many instances where I found myself giggling out loud while I was reading. The man was a fantastic writer. He had a way of writing about grand concepts that were not only accessible to the general public, but also very thought provoking. He also had a way of talking about every day things or activities that brought out really interesting ideas. His writing has this quality of "smartness" to it that was both intriguing and delightful. And everything he wrote is so fun to read.

The first essay I ever wrote of his is called "Getting Away From Already Pretty Much Away From It All." It has also been printed with the title "State Fair." It's about his experiences going to an Indiana State Fair to write a piece for Harper's Magazine. There's one point where he's watching the Beef Show, where young kids enter their best cows into a competition. Here's David Foster Wallace's description:

"The cow's owners are farm kids, deep-rural kids from back-of-beyond counties like Piatt, Moultrie, Vermilion, all County Fari winners. They are earnest, nervous, pride-puffed. Dress rurally up. Straw-colored crewcuts. High number of freckles per capita. They're kids remarkably for a kind of classic Rockwellian U.S. averageness, the products of balanced diets, vigorous labor, and solid GOP upbringings" (105).

How perfect is that? In that one paragraph, you understand perfectly what he is describing. Not to mention the whole "solid GOP upbringing" thing cracks me up. Not just because I'm not a member of the GOP but because it's such a great & somewhat unconventional way of describing someone.

Another great thing he talks about in that same essay is the adult Prairie State Clogger, a group of adult clog dancers. I know, it sounds lame but just read this:

"But it's adrenaline-dancing, meth-paced and exhausting to watch because your own feet move; and it's erotic in a way that makes MTV look lame. The clogger's feet are too fast to be seen, really, but they all tap out the exact same rhythm...The audience is packed right to the edge of the portable hardwood flooring. The teams are mostly married couples. The men are either rail-thin or have big hanging guts. A couple of the men are great fluid Astaire-like dancers, but mostly it's the women who compel. The males have constant sunny smiles, but the women look orgasmic; they're the really serious ones, transported. Their yips and whoops are involuntary, pure exclamation. They are arousing...The looks on the younger ag-kids' faces have this awakened astonished aspect, like they didn't realize their own race could dance like this"(124-125).

Again, just freaking brilliant writing. He had this way of perfectly describing a situation and drawing out something really special or unique about it.

The essay that gives the book its title, "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again," is possibly one of my favorites of his. It's about him being sent on a cruise to write an article about it for some magazine (whose name I forget). I'm going to refrain from talking about it here (though I really, really, really want to) because I'll never stop. Do yourself a favor. Go purchase the book & read it. Hell, if you really want to read it but can't afford to buy it, come over to my place & I'll photo copy it for you (I won't give you my book though. Rule #34).

There are also several other wonderful essays in this book ("David Lynch Keeps His Head" is freaking awesome) and in the book, Consider the Lobster, I mentioned in my other post where I talked a lot about David Foster Wallace (the essay "Up, Simba" is about his experiences following the John McCain campaign bus/entourage when McCain was trying to get the Republican nomination against George W. Bush. *Spoiler Alert* McCain loses. But the essay is freaking brilliant (I know I've used that phrase a lot to describe David Foster Wallace's work but it's true). So brilliant, in fact, that half way through I was thinking, "Damnit, David Foster Wallace. Stop making me feel sympathy for John McCain." Another great essay in Consider the Lobster is about when he had to cover the Adult Entertainment Awards. It's hilarious but still keeps that "smartness" that I've come to love about David Foster Wallace).

**Side-Note from Kelly**
I mentioned this in the previous post, but just in case you forgot, I always refer to David Foster Wallace as David Foster Wallace. Not as Wallace. Not DFW. Always David Foster Wallace. The reasoning behind this is because the guy was an incredible writer and one of my heroes. He deserves to have his name written out every goddamn time. If this annoys you, well, you're shit out of luck.
**End of Side-Note**

I think what makes David Foster Wallace's work so great is that it's refreshingly real. When he's at the Adult Entertainment Awards, you can tell when he is very uncomfortable. When he's on his cruise in "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again",  he talks about how he is a semi-agoraphobe and goes to great lengths to describe how his particular cruise line can be suitable for a semi-agoraphobe, i.e. they will bring an unearthly amount of food up to your room so you don't have to go down to the dinning rooms. He also spends a lot of time describing his cabin, paying special attention to the wonders of the bathroom. He then decides, for the sake of the article, to go out one day and take part in the scheduled activities the cruise line has arranged. He plays ping-pong against the resident ping-pong player (I am not kidding. There is a guy on the cruise ship who, among other things, is paid to play ping-pong with the guests), gets his trash kicked at chess by a 9-year-old girl, and briefly (very briefly) joins a conga-line. His writing is always honest and unashamed. He has no qualms with revealing how weird and "not-cool" he is. There is no feeling of superiority from his writing. You are able to feel exactly what he's feeling because he's so genuine.

If I were to pick my writing role model, it would be, without question, David Foster Wallace. It makes me sad knowing I will never have the chance to meet him or read anything new from him.  He committed suicide on September 12, 2008. (You may have noticed me switching between present and past tense when referring to him. I apologize but I'm too lazy to fix it). He had suffered from depression for over 20 years but was able to function by taking antidepressants. Because of some severe side-effects, he  (under his doctor's supervision) began to ween himself off the medication. When he was completely off, his depression came full force. When he went back on his medication, he found it has lost its effectiveness. He tried many other treatments but nothing ever worked.

There were several times during my reading of his work that I found myself wishing he were still alive. There are so many topics I wish he were still around to write about. I want to know what he thinks about the Coen brothers films, the Twilight series crapfest, this new "movement" that abandons cynicism and embraces activism & hope, the current political schism & how it's destroying our country, and so many more.

I have mentioned recently my feelings about suicide. It's an act that I do not condone but, from knowing exactly what it's like to want to not exist anymore, I do not automatically condemn it either. David Foster Wallace understood this, maybe better than anyone else. He once said this about suicide (I know it's long-ish but read it, damnit):

"The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling."

That is by far the best explanation on what it's like to be quote "suicidal." And while I know everything that led up to David Foster Wallace's suicide and I can understand exactly the whys of it, I'm still terribly upset that he's gone and I'll never know what David Foster Wallace thinks about anything ever again.

Love you.
Mean it.