Conspicuous consumption

OK, one day I’ll get back into this, but real life (if there is such a thing) has taken over for a while. In the meantime, the tale of the woman who’s eating Infinite Jest, all 1,079 pages of it.

The search for happiness

Bloody hell, is thing still working? Just found on Twitter:

Plastic fantastic

If you haven’t seen it yet: Brickjest. (via @hannahswiv) But why do Americans think Lego has a plural form?

The fountain of Geneva

Not sure I fully get this. But it’s interesting.

Beach read

From Books, by Charlie Hill:

He held a small rucksack. In it, a pair of shorts, a shirt, two pairs of pants, a pair of flip-flops and a beach read. The book was by David Foster Wallace. Richard had put his favourite ‘Gone Readin’’ sign in the window of the shop and he hoped that this would be the case: he’d started the bloody thing half a dozen times and had yet to get beyond the first ten pages.

Well, I got beyond 10.

More excuses

I really was going to get started again. But I got distracted by this instead.

Actually, is there mileage in a blog about *not* reading a book?

That Dave Eggers review

Oh dear. Yes, I know, I know. I’ll get back to it, I really will. But in the meantime, here’s a review of Infinite Jest by Dave Eggers. He didn’t seem to like it quite so much as he does now.

What happened there?

Sorry, if anybody should happen to read this. Real life and all that. I did keep reading for a while, but couldn’t put into words what I wanted to say. And without the discipline of writing, the reading ground to a halt. 

Maybe I’ll get back into it. Or maybe I should just check into rehab. In the meantime, here’s Robin Ince on pretending to have read Infinite Jest.