david foster wallace
this morning at 3:45 I was up trying to read. The night was making all those sounds that the night always makes. The cat was interested to see me propped up on the sofa instead of being in bed.
Now it is daylight and I am in my office. I know that I don’t know what DFW felt or what he believed or why he did this. But I imagine that I know how he felt and that he lost the fight against whatever it is that I feel, too. He lost. And that makes the stakes higher somehow, the game that much harder.
I do know it is a lonely business. life. writing. all of it