I had some free time on my hands while waiting for my haircolor to take (creative efforts fend off depression for me) so I decided to check out some of the blogs I'd bookmarked from a previous post. The first one I started reading, Furious Seasons, had this article a couple of posts down the page.
David Foster Wallace hung himself on September 15th and while I've not read Infinite Jest, I'd heard of it and a small of my part imploded when I heard he'd committed suicide. In an odd way it was, for me, another piece of proof that life is too hard to endure for an unknown amount of time. Finding this story, about someone who survived suicide and went on to make his life into something whose absence would be noticed, gave me ammunition against that proof. Something I can put in my stash for when I need help in darker times.
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