Just finished Infinite Jest. And it was amazing. In a completely different way than I was imagining… I guess I don’t know what I expected. Not being a huge reader, even when Sergio told me I had to read this book, and that it would change my life, and blah blah blah, I guess I didn’t really have any preconceived notions of what I was in for.
And I’m glad I didn’t.
Again, not being as well-read as I guess I might like, I don’t have too much ground to stand on, but I have never read anything like this novel, and can say with a fair amount of confidence that I will never read anything quite like it again. Until I read Infinite Jest again, that is.
It’s less about plot and story than it is about tone and emotion, I think. Anytime anyone would ask me what it’s about, I had a hard time answering, only because it’s not too easy to answer such a conventional question about such an unconventional book. I mean, yea, you can say it’s about a tennis academy and a sober house. And it’s about the nature of entertainment, dedication, addiction, familial relations… But that’s not why I’m glad I read it. I didn’t necessarily find any revelation or emotional movement because of the plot line of the story.
I’m glad I read it because of the way it made me feel to read it. The moments it provided. Moments of sickness and shock. Moments of literal genius (that more often than not lofted way over my head). Moments that so beautifully illustrate a feeling or moment so universal to the human experience, and yet, maybe because they’re seemingly mundane, are never given the thought or care to be elaborated upon. Moments like to blinking lights that seem to be blinking in unison, but slowly, one seems to drop out of sync. Or moments like when you set a glass down in carpet, you sort of press it down and twist it to create a miniature cup-holder-like-indentation.
It sounds silly, but I delighted in reading every one of those little moments that for whatever reason DFW found necessary to describe at length.
The best I can describe it would be as a parallel to a modern art installation. If we were able to get a breakdown from DFW, we might hope to be able to understand the greater picture, but even without that understanding, it’s juxtaposed moments. Seemingly random, at times, one maybe not having anything to do with the other, except for the feeling it gives you in the interrum. And it’s these successive feelings and building of tone and tension in the most unexpected way that makes Infinite Jest much more than a story. Much more than a novel. It makes it an experience.
As I’m reflecting, talking with Sergio, reading different things online, I realize that I missed a lot. Some I could pick up upon a second or third, or twentieth read. Some that I’ll never pick up on. DFW had the mind of a mathmetician/statistician/scientist/mad genius, and yet the writing ability of a skilled and patient artist, able to sort of lay all of that genius out in a beautiful and meaningful way.
All that being said, I would like to enjoy this sort of heightened level of reading while it lasts and try to get through a couple of books way faster than I probably ever would have before. BUT, there’s nothing I look forward to more than reading it again.
***
It’s not that I hate my job. I actually really enjoy it. There are parts that are difficult, of course. Notably the fact that I’ll never be employed in the same position for more than a year. But even that’s got it’s upsides.
I guess I’m having a hard time with this job in particular because it’s such a different way to operate than I’m used to.
It’s interesting the things you learn about yourself. I’ve learned that I have this knee-jerk reaction to situations that sort of put me out of my element or out of my comfort zone. Like this job has done. And I say, I “hate” it. It sucks. Whatever. But literally all it takes is writing it out. Whether it be a list, or a grid, or whatever. Write out everything that’s in my head, and take it one step at a time. It’s not hard. It doesn’t suck. I don’t hate it.
***
What I DO hate is being poor. I’m now in that unfortunate and awkward transition from unemployment to the first week of a new job. And I was only unemployed for three weeks. So now, I still haven’t received my first unemployment check, I still haven’t received my first paycheck. Not to mention I lived pretty generously during my time off, mistakenly thinking that my savings was never going to run out.
It ran out. It was MUCH easier to spend than it was to save. Lesson learned… Hopefully I can get it back to where it was, if not higher than it was, by the time this gig’s over.
Then, at the same time, if all goes according to plan, I’ll be working from now until March with little more than a week or two down. That’s a good feeling.
But I was really starting to enjoy unemployment….
***
I guess it’s Em that taught me how. As the last show was gearing down, I was actually dreading unemployment, not because I didn’t think I was going to make it financially, but because I was deathly afraid of the boredom I was sure would set in after the first week or so.
I don’t remember being bored over those three weeks. And it’s lack of boredom in a way that I’ve never really felt before. A lack of boredom that doesn’t really require entertainment or diversion to keep up. More like just a steady satisfaction. Contentedness. I learned the art of sitting by the pool and enjoying it. I was always ok with what we were doing, whatever it was, as long as we were both doing it. Or not doing it. Just sharing space is all I needed.
Thanks for that, Em.
***
I guess the reason for the bit about the job is that in the past few months I’ve thought about what it would be like to up and leave to do a different job. Which is weird. I don’t feel as attached to this line of work as I thought I would be, or maybe as I previously had been.
My dream has been, for as long as I can remember, to start my own production company. But I guess I focused on the wrong part of it. I focused on “production company,” thinking that was the operative over “my own.”
Don’t get me wrong, I would still love to do this. It would still be a dream come true to make a living off of making movies with my friends. Friends for crew. Friends for talent. It would be incredible.
But I would be just as satisfied with my own anything, I feel. As long as it was my own (with a partner). Restaurant. Record store. Bar. Whatever. You know?
So I guess my goal now isn’t necessarily my own production company, although that could be the potential result of achieving my goal. My goal is to make a living (doesn’t even have to be hugely successful living, which is something I’ve also let go of in the recent past) doing something of my own that I’m passionate about.
And so it shall be.
