Endless Salad and Breadsticks

I did not mention Solzhenitsyn here when he passed last month. He was too large, epic and intrepid.

Yesterday was a wonderful Sunday. I awoke early, which is unusual, and made my way through the terrible NYTBR, which has become customary. My waffles and espresso coupled perfectly I moped up here for my quotidian reality. Inexplicably, suicide has been an overarching concept as of late. i don't know if it is the season or Sara Palin, I don't have a clue. I am not sure where I first heard of David Foster Wallace but I know that it was in 1998. I had been reading a good deal of Delilo and it appears likely that it may be as simple as "others who bought. . ." I do recall printing an interview he allowed with Salon and in it he chose to spread the wealth and made mention of others in his generation, notably, for myself at least, W.T. Vollmann and Richard Powers -- neither of which was I then familiar. I read Infinite Jest and loved it. I gave that copy to J and Rhonda Barry, newly married at the time. I read it again in tandem with my wife in 2003 as this nation's illegal war was ignited over Baghdad. I am nearly speechless considering the capacity and magnitude that this man left on the page, the way he made us think, imagine and laugh. Perhaps I wil bend my schedule away from the family Mann and read Broom of the System.