“Little bits of Los Angeles wink on and off, as light gets in the way of other light…
We dreamed a lot of shared or complementary dreams. Our telepathy was intrusive.”
David Foster Wallace, “Little Expressionless Animals,” Paris Review Issue 134, 1995
“…characters who are always incorrigibly narcissistic, philandering, self-contemptuous, self-pitying and deeply alone, alone the way only a solipsist can be alone. They never belong to any sort of larger unit or community or cause. Though usually family men, they never really love anybody—and, though always heterosexual to the point of satyriasis, they especially don’t love women. The very world around them, as beautifully as they see and describe it, seems to exist for them only insofar as it evokes impressions and associations and emotions inside the self.”
David Foster Wallace, in a
blanket description of the last few guys I’ve dated, explains to me why I’m still single review of John Updike from today’s Daily Rumpus
“There’s been time this whole time. You can’t kill time with your heart. Everything takes time. Bees have to move very fast to stay still.”
David Foster Wallace, “Forever Overheard,” Brief Interviews with Hideous Men. New York: Back Bay Books (Little Brown and Co.), 2007.