“Maybe it’s so I don’t have to be a fuckin’ waffle waitress…”

Today I commence reading the biggest book I have ever attempted to read with my eyes. I mark the moment for prosperity here, chiefly so I can keep record of how long it will take me to meander through the 1,079 pages that consitute Infinite Jest, written by the late David Foster Wallace. I also hope that it makes me look well clever and shit.

 

To yoink a plaudit from Esquire, it “shows signs of being a genuine work of genius”.  To quote from the foreword, the book promises to make me “a better person”.  Really.  A better person. How could that give one anything but the most throbbing of book-boners? If, by the last sentence of it’s last page, my hair isn’t shinier, my cheekbones no more chiselled, and my cholesterol no lower, then I will have no option but to sue.

My brother, not known for his booksmarts (or, indeed, any smarts in particular) asked me to synopsise the book in five words. At first I scoffed at such a lofty aim, but who am I to deny the convenience of such crude reductiveness? So here it is, 1,079 pages in five words – addiction, child abuse, depression, tennis. Perhaps when I finish, several years from now and a better person, I will suggest five words of my own. I imagine I will still use tennis though, to lighten the mood if nothing else.

~~~

Music – Codes In The Clouds – Paper Canyon

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