Finite Jest

I just found out David Foster Wallace offed himself last
Friday. I'm one of those people who actually enjoyed
Infinite Jest. I had to devour it when it came out, as
I had it on a one-week loan from the new books section
of the library. That ran to about 140 dense pages a day,
but I finished with two days to spare.

Wallace's genius was more readily available in a few
stretched out pieces he wrote for magazines like
Harper's -- a famous one called "Getting Away from
Getting Away from it All" on the Illinois State
Fair, an expose of 7-day Caribbean cruise ship
vacations ("A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never
Do Again"), and most recently, a hypertext-on-print
analysis of right-wing talk stations.

And now it's over, without so much as a footnote.
Crap.