From William Shakespeare's Hamlet:

Let me see. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio--a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore me on his back a thousand times, and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! ...

I'm falling further behind on David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest every day. (As of right now, I'm about forty or fifty pages back--this fucker requires dedication. However, I take cold comfort in the fact that Rachel is behind, too.) I spent the last week or so clearing a cache of shorter books I was reading--Ben Greenman's Please Step Back, Kurt Vonnegut's Welcome to the Monkey House, and (soon) Tom Rob Smith's Child 44--and only dipped into Infinite Jest every other day. Then I was crestfallen: what seemed manageable at the time--ten pages a day--quietly turned into a series of Herculean tasks, especially with all other distractions. But the bandwagon isn't too far ahead.

Now focus, you whoreson.

Comments

[Dorothy W.]

Good luck catching up! (I mean that in an encouraging, not a sarcastic, way.) There are some longish sections with some narrative pull to them that might make it not so difficult.

[Citizen Reader]

Oh god, then I'm never going to catch up. I just got my copy from the library today and am already having headaches from reading too much (dammit--add "get eyes checked" to the to-do list). I'm still going to try, though...