Infinite Jest

Infinite Sonic

Whoo, boy, you guys ever heard of Infinite Jest? Hell of a book; I mean, man, that thing is a masterpiece, even if all masterpieces have their fair share of flaws. Some sections are overlong, and some don’t seem to have any purpose to the overall story. But I will say this: David Foster Wallace knew what he wanted people to feel, what he wanted them to get out of the book. Thing is, there’s no one thing to be taken from Infinite Jest. Like life, it’s a series of ups and downs, good and bad. At the beginning, you think, “Looking forward to this, gonna be so much fun”–then, by around page 600, or the fifth hour of a nine hour road trip, you go, “okay, keep it moving, pal…yep, romance, uh-huh, violence, death, and depression.”

Almost at the end. Eighty pages left to go, and that’s after a period of almost three consecutive months. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a life-changing book, ’cause that’s a trite phrase, but it’s a book that you’ll remember long after you read it. I dunno about you, but when I read David Copperfield, it was an akin experience to this one. Massive book. Loads of characters. Empathy towards said characters. More learned perspective on Life, post-reading. I’m not comparing Wallace to Dickens, as that’s a hard bargain for anyone to push onto me. What I am saying is it takes a good amount of skill to convey truthfully even a small portion of reality in fiction. Writers are always saying we’re nothing but liars, and I disagree. Telling the truth of a story is the hardest part in writing it.

So, why’s Sonic in the title? Why is Sonic there? What the actual hell? It could be that I just got a job at a Sonic, or there’s the smallest chance I’m obsessed with a lightning-fast, blue hedgehog. To save time, as well as words, I’m gonna go with the latter. I’m a Sega fanboy, what can I say? I remember the times when I powered up the old 80’s Sega Genesis–and I’m totally lying, geez, gullible much? I’m a friggin’ carhop, alright? Ya got me.

In the days of yore, I might’ve been a dishwasher, but no longer; I say, NO LONGER! Times are a changin’! Isn’t that right? God help me, I think so, but how can I know? Dishes used to be my friends, but then…then they betrayed me, those dirty, filthy–ooh,  bit repetitive, Boswell, excuse me, those dirty, monkey-brained (OO-OO-AA-AA!) dishes. I won’t go into a convoluted backstory. You get the picture, or you will; I did just mail it out.

Infinite Sonic, heh, me likey.

Move over Mr. Wallace, I got my own Jest to–to jest. Damn. That could’ve been good. Don’t have enough energy to try again, so settle for it, guys. Roll dice, or something, is Rock-Paper-Scissors still a thing?

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Photo Cred: Cody Hoyt