Currently reading Although of Course you end up Becoming Yourself: A Road Trip with David Foster Wallace, by David Lipsky. I was about to write it’s Wallace unfiltered, but if you’ve read that much Wallace, you know there isn’t much of a filter. It’s pure Wallace, just like his nonfiction is, except just in conversation with a journalist who is clearly becoming a friend over the five days they spend together.
Here’s a brief passage, where Wallace and Lipsky just landed in the Twin Cities. Still on airplane. Over the PA system comes a voice:
PA: (Engines cycling down, that big, deep, vacuum-cleaner sound) Just a reminder: The airport here in the Twin Cities is a smoke-free environment. Smoking only is permitted outdoors.
(Corrects her) [Wallace] “Permitted only outdoors.” It’s not the only thing that’s permitted outdoors.
[[Lipsky]] [Irritated as a grammarian and as a smoker]
Currently obsessed with: The Suburbs, by Arcade Fire. This album has been out for a while now. Arcade Fire already won a Grammy for it, but I just picked it up two weeks ago and it is getting heavy rotation. It reminds me of discovering Neon Bible when I was working at a magazine in Denver and doing the drive from Longmont and just rocking out to “No Cars Go.”