(no subject)
Girl With Curious Hair
by David Foster Wallace
Here and There
"I sense feeling being avoided not confronted Bruce. Maybe here we might just admit together that if one uses a person as nothing more than a receptacle for one's organs, fluids, and emotions, if one never regards her as more than and independent from the feelings and qualities one is disposed to invest her with from a distance, it is wrong then to turn around and depend on her feelings for any significant part of one's own sense of wellbeing. Bruce why not just admit that what bothers you so much is that she has given irresistible notice that she has an emotional life with features you knew nothing about, that she is just plain different from whatever you might have decided to make her into for yourself. In short a person Bruce" (p 156).
(Bruce) "I was convinced I could sing like a wire at Kelvin, high and pale, burn without ignition or friction, shine cool as a lemony moon, mated to a lattice of pure meaning. Interferenceless transfer. But a small, quiet, polite, scented, neatly ordered system of new signals has somehow shot me in the head. With words and tears she has amputated something from me. I gave her the intimate importance of me, and her bus pulled away, leaving something key of mine inside her like the weapon of a bee. All I want to do now is drive very away, to bleed" (p 156).
My Appearance
My husband ground out his cigarette. "Savage yourself before he can savage you." He held out his glass to Ron.
"Make sure you're seen as making fun of yourself, but in a self-aware and ironic way." The big bottle gurgled as Ron freshened Rudy's drink.
I asked whether it might be all right I had just a third of a Xanax.
"In other words, appear the way Letterman appears, on Letterman," Ron gestured as if to sum it up, sitting back down. "Laugh in a way that's somehow deadpan. Act as if you knew from birth that everything is cliched and hyped and empty and absurd, and that's just where the fun is."
"But that's not the way I am at all" (p 183).
by David Foster Wallace
Here and There
"I sense feeling being avoided not confronted Bruce. Maybe here we might just admit together that if one uses a person as nothing more than a receptacle for one's organs, fluids, and emotions, if one never regards her as more than and independent from the feelings and qualities one is disposed to invest her with from a distance, it is wrong then to turn around and depend on her feelings for any significant part of one's own sense of wellbeing. Bruce why not just admit that what bothers you so much is that she has given irresistible notice that she has an emotional life with features you knew nothing about, that she is just plain different from whatever you might have decided to make her into for yourself. In short a person Bruce" (p 156).
(Bruce) "I was convinced I could sing like a wire at Kelvin, high and pale, burn without ignition or friction, shine cool as a lemony moon, mated to a lattice of pure meaning. Interferenceless transfer. But a small, quiet, polite, scented, neatly ordered system of new signals has somehow shot me in the head. With words and tears she has amputated something from me. I gave her the intimate importance of me, and her bus pulled away, leaving something key of mine inside her like the weapon of a bee. All I want to do now is drive very away, to bleed" (p 156).
My Appearance
My husband ground out his cigarette. "Savage yourself before he can savage you." He held out his glass to Ron.
"Make sure you're seen as making fun of yourself, but in a self-aware and ironic way." The big bottle gurgled as Ron freshened Rudy's drink.
I asked whether it might be all right I had just a third of a Xanax.
"In other words, appear the way Letterman appears, on Letterman," Ron gestured as if to sum it up, sitting back down. "Laugh in a way that's somehow deadpan. Act as if you knew from birth that everything is cliched and hyped and empty and absurd, and that's just where the fun is."
"But that's not the way I am at all" (p 183).