The World is So Much Lighter, Too Often
I was shocked to come to my computer and find the news that David Foster Wallace had been found dead in his home. It looks like suicide. There is a too-short article in the New York Times, but i am sure there will be more later.
You might say I was a rabid fan, reading everything he ever wrote. I even lobbied hard to be part of a project in which he was involved (to no avail, but that's showbiz). Infinite Jest is a masterpiece plain and simple, as are his journalistic pieces collected in A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. But it is his Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, a work I recently reread, that will remain.
I did not know him, but I admired him, revered him. Words fail. The world is lighter tonight,