I’m deeply saddened. I just learned that David Foster Wallace, an author whose work I thoroughly enjoy, died last year. Where the hell was I? Where was the media blitz? I found out from reading the comments in another blog. Comments, gentle reader! Not even a main post!

Why did the country not mourn the author of Infinite Jest with memorials and documentaries and a week-long televised wake?! Bloody tragic. I didn’t hear a PEEP from the media. And to make my heart hurt even more, he took his own life. My deepest sympathy to his wife and family. Such a brilliant talent gone at 46.

So to honor Wallace I’m signing up to participate in this event over the summer. You should too, gentle reader. It’s a hell of a read and I promise…you won’t be sorry.

One day when I go back to Boston I’m going to visit some of the key landmarks from Infinite Jest by taking the Wallace Memorial Tour and leave a tennis ball at each site. Corny yes, but I think Wallace would be amused.

RIP.