Reading David Foster Wallace even for a brief moment I think about this, this not in his writing:
that the apotheosis of co-dependency – right after one realizes that one hates the persons or elements that one is expediting for…is that that hatred, that feeling just dissipates and what one is left with is nothing; also the nothing of having done nothing or very little past the nothing for oneself that entire time. The very little past the nothing will have to suffice for fulfillment and that is somewhat fine and that is all.
This is the first time I have looked at myself and thought, huh, middle-aged: it’s the new baggy eyes and the look therein.
An essay in this David Foster Wallace reader by an editor talking about his essay about tennis and losing one’s state of grace within one’s sport or calling, for DFW his writing / how the tennis player lost it, how DFW lost it, and how when one is in that ecstatic state one does not know it. In fact I do know it I have known it and I always set it aside to do X for person or element Y. My own bad doing, not person or element Y’s.