dfw, jco, et. al.

Q: The thing about Andre Agassi looking like a Port Authority whore—

DFW: —I don't know—

Q: —didn't run in the original.

DFW: I think Esquire, Esqiure did leave a couple of those in, and I remember my mom, you know, reading that and just, kind of, her eyes being very wide the next time she saw me. There was something about Brooke Shields looking like somebody you'd masturbate to a picture of but not have sex with, that was really one of those four-in-the-morning, 15-cup-of-coffee-really, if I'd been in my right mind, I wouldn't have put it in the final draft, but I did. And then Esquire, I remember, left it in. Being Esquire. You know, wanting to create as much unpleasantness as possible. So.

 

>break<

 

Q: Maybe if you'd emphasized that it was not in an unattractive way. Which is sort of a hard thing to picture.

 

DFW: Actually the first draft of that did have that, and the editor pointed out that not only did this waste words, but it looked like I was trying to have my cake and eat it too. That I was trying to tell an unkind truth but somehow give her a neck rub at the same time. So it got cut.

 

Q: But you actually did want to have your cake and eat it too. Not in a bad way.

DFW: I'm unabashed, I think, in wanting to have my cake and eat it too.

 

satiating my DFW desire for a while...

 

there was an essay in last week's nyer by joyce carol oates about the last week of her life with her huband. i've always loved her. she was the reason i ever started dating my college boyfriend, we bonded over our mutual love for her work. and she and her husband were gloriously in love until he died suddenly of pneumonia (and complicating infections), on a night when he'd been looking better and she'd left the hospital to get some rest. this essay just punched me in the gut, left me so winded that i felt crumpled inside for hours afterwards. she wanted to die, there was no life left for her. i wanted to die. as i toted my laundry back to my apartment the whole world felt so dark. i'm not selling this piece (or maybe i am) but you should read it anyway. she has a trillin-like level of love for her husband but it's just so much more personal. it broke my heart.

 

between her and DFW, there isn't much more that could make me feel more inadequate as a writer, that's for sure. maybe i need to pick up my borges just to rub it in a bit more.

 

re: prop 8, the 9th circuit did exactly what everyone thought they should do. standing isn't something a circuit court deals with unless they have to (and it's hard to think of there being a lot of fights about standings these days, it's not the most complex legal issue) and, really, nobody who challenged seemed to have standing at all so there you go.

 

choire sicha is finishing his novel. he procrastinates here and i love it. the site itself is bullocks, pointless, just like a few others out there i've been meaning to do a roundup on (oh, but if you hang out with enough of the tech/media kids: lock, rex, rachel, dennis, et. al., there's no way to do any honest assessment without pissing someone off. last thing you want is for them you hate on you the next time you see them at a party. UGH, social constraints). but choire! he's charming. and funny. and interesting. and i adore him. even though he's really into cats.