I keep upping the percentage to which I read my Microsoft Word screen. I started at a mere 125%, but then I turned 40 and had to up it to 150%. Now I’m 44 and I just jacked it up to 180%. Fuck, I hate getting old. Pretty soon I’m going to be inquiring about the goddamn audio version.
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David Foster Wallace once asked his friends and fans to only be truthful when communicating with one another. He kept his side of the bargain. Last Friday night, he looked death in the eye and then kicked the chair he was standing on out from under his feet. The noose tightened. The pain and confusion certainly took over. Well, make that: the pain certainly took over, because he didn’t seem confused. He wanted his life to be over. And he made it happen. He was just trying to be truthful.
And so it goes. Rest in peace, David.
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Speaking of David Foster Wallace (age 46), I’ve been haunted by the New York Times’ obit page on Monday (9.15.08) that featured the death of Wallace. Oh my, can a death be featured? If so, for whom? Certainly not the dead. Because, for the living’s sake, let’s hope the dead don’t give a shit about their obits. Please? Can we just agree on that?
Anyway, the obit page had three “notable” deaths – we should all be so lucky, I guess. The first was of Wallace, featuring one of the many rather tormented photos of Wallace looking…well…tormented by his adoring fans who no doubt lined up to tell him that his torment made their torment feel…well…less tormented. Whatever.
Wallace gazed up at the fans with a stack of yet-to-be-signed books stacked high at his side, with an agent-type lurking and certainly rushing the process so that the encounters could be summarized down to the common denominator that said: Sales.
Torment, indeed.
Another featured death was that of Peter Camejo, the Green Party leader and organizer – oops, did I say “organizer”? – whose life story was about fighting for justice and against injustice, including a fine stint as Nader’s running mate in 2004. He was, by all accounts, a decent man – a man who took the issues and his beliefs seriously enough to garner the necessary signatures to get placed on the ballot on numerous occasions (e.g. for governor of California on several occasions, for president once and vice president as well). Go, Peter, go.
But he died at the age of 68. Still young, damn it. And his obit was full of the news of his struggles as a “first-generation Venezuelan-American,” as a fighter and organizer for a woman’s right to choose, the legalization of marijuana, universal health care and an end to the death penalty. Nice work, Peter.
But then there was the third featured death – a man for whom I knew nothing about: Olin J. Stephens II. And his picture alone offered a stark differential to the headlines, ages and stories of the other two with whom he shared his death day: He was smiling. And he lived to 100! Fucker. And his life’s toil: “Renowned Yacht Designer.”
There is no justice.
Or maybe there is.
We’ll just have to wait and see.
R.I.P. to all three. I had never read Wallace until I read Dennis Perrin’s homage (?) in his blog and then I read the NYT obit, too. Camejo? I’d heard him speak at UVM during the Nader/Camejo campaign back in 2004. Gentle passion comes to mind.
LOL at your security word “stossel” – where do you come up with ‘em? Made me cackle loudly; John Stossel is a joke. I remember him back in days when he was on the ABC affiliate in NYC and had no idea that he was a closet rightwing reactionary.
Onward, through the fog, Friend Michael!
Good stuff.
Michael, over at Vidiot Speak, a blog I read, there’s a post with photos of Mr Stephens’ sleek yacht designs:
http://vidiotspeak.blogspot.com/2008/09/ships-that-pass-in-night-and-speak-each.html