Monday, September 29, 2008


Surely, if I don't read the memorial pages, David Foster Wallace will not be dead.

He was one of my literary and personal heroes. I saw him speak once at the University of Houston and zip, pow. He looked like he had just come from painting a house, wearing an old tennis shirt and a bandanna covering his head. When he opened his mouth, my first reaction was to feel awe.

I don't remember much of that session a decade ago, although dreams and parents' legacies came up from a conversation with another poet who was speaking as well. Wallace naturally generated smart, lucid paragraph-size thoughts, and it was all I could do to keep up, mentally.

One of the editors for Gulf Coast, the U of H literary magazine, helped get Wallace from the airport and showed him the sights, and was just as awe-struck as I was. By all reports, a really nice, humble guy, survived by his wife and dog.

I have two copies of Infinite Jest, the second as a backup for when I read the first one to death. I tried not to write the sentence that way, but that's how it came out and I can't change it.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Insert Stupid Joke about Liking Ike here

Casa De Derscheid has survived with only one of our patio fences collapsing. Lee and the girls are in La Grange and I'm over at Laura and Michael's place since they have power.

Tried to go home a little while ago but didn't like the look of high water on Dairy Ashford, so turned around. Will probably give it another go later this afternoon.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Well, has it?