Just back from my blogmachine. A digression. I don't know what happened exactly. I sat down to...look something up on Google and - zap ! - I ended up listening to BBC World Book Club - an interview with Umberto Eco-who spoke about the Name of the Rose. It was so relaxing. I love his I Italian accent.
Anyways, yep, I'm back now - and on my back - taking full advantage of Education Ministry (PAID!) Holiday to complete the grueling task of reading the Thick Book - And I've discovered another thing I should have been catalogging: infinity (you know - as in Infinite Jest; as in Yorrick; as in Shakespeare; as in death; as in eternity; as in math; as in DFW was an incandescent math wiz).
"...a former crooner and schmaltz-mogul who...creatively refocused blame and rocketing people's waste into the forgiving chill of infinite space."
(Why is space forgiving? Because it can be? Because it is limitless? Got a problem? Looking for a sublime solution? > Send it into space. That's what you do in soccerfootball. It's kind of like the lob in tennis or the punt in Nflfootball (Orin).)
That quote from page 418 also leads to footnote 168 which provides a delightful definition of what the sport of tennis basically is:
"...the business of sending from yourself what you hope will not return."
That must be a t-shirt out there...some where...
Someone has to have done it by now.
Sweet DFW.
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