Steeply: Not for eyes like that.

Marathe: You would say it does not capture these eyes’ expression.

Steeply: The expressions seem more like - fuck, how to say it. Fuck.

Marathe: Petrified. Ossified. Inanimate.

Steeply: No. Not inanimate. More like the opposite. More as if …stuck in some way.

Marathe: What is it this wishes here to mean? Glued?

Steeply: Stuck. Fixed. Held. Trapped. As in trapped in some sort of middle. Between two things. Pulled apart in different directions.

Marathe: Meaning different cravings of great intensity, this.

Steeply: Not even cravings so much. Emptier than that. As if he were stuck wondering. As if there was something he’d forgotten.

Marathe: Misplaced. Lost

Steeply: Misplaced.

Marathe: Lost.

Steeply: Misplaced.

Marathe: As you wish.

p647-648, IJ

Posted at 4:26pm and tagged with: David Foster Wallace, DFW, Infinite Jest, Writers, Lit, F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, TJ Eckleburg, Eyes, MASH, TV,.

Steeply: Not for eyes like that.
Marathe: You would say it does not capture these eyes’ expression.
Steeply: The expressions seem more like - fuck, how to say it. Fuck.
Marathe: Petrified. Ossified. Inanimate.
Steeply: No. Not inanimate. More like the opposite. More as if …stuck in some way.
Marathe: What is it this wishes here to mean? Glued?
Steeply: Stuck. Fixed. Held. Trapped. As in trapped in some sort of middle. Between two things. Pulled apart in different directions.
Marathe: Meaning different cravings of great intensity, this.
Steeply: Not even cravings so much. Emptier than that. As if he were stuck wondering. As if there was something he’d forgotten.
Marathe: Misplaced. Lost
Steeply: Misplaced.
Marathe: Lost.
Steeply: Misplaced.
Marathe: As you wish.
p647-648, IJ

Steeply: What if you just love? without deciding? You just do: you see her and in that instant are lost to sober account-keeping and cannot choose but to love?

Marathe: Then in such a case your temple is self and sentiment. Then in such an instance you are a fanatic of desire, a slave to your individual subjective narrow self’s sentiments; a citizen of nothing. You become a citizen of nothing. You are by yourself and alone, kneeling to yourself.

Marathe: In a case such as this you become the slave who believes he is free. The most pathetic of bondage. Not tragic. No songs. You believe you would die twice for another but in truth would die only for your alone self, its sentiment.

Marathe: You in such a case have nothing. You stand on nothing. Nothing of ground or rock beneath your feet. You fall; you blow here and there. How does one say: ‘tragically, involuntarily, lost.’

Steeply: farts mildly.

Marathe: 'OH SAY, LAND OF THE FREE'

-108, IJ


Posted at 7:07pm and tagged with: America, Bald Eagles, Bald Eagles Are Awesome, Books, DFW, David Foster Wallace, Independence Day, Infinite Jest, Interdependence Day, July 4, July 4th, Lit, ONAN,.

Steeply: What if you just love? without deciding? You just do: you see her and in that instant are lost to sober account-keeping and cannot choose but to love?
Marathe: Then in such a case your temple is self and sentiment. Then in such an instance you are a fanatic of desire, a slave to your individual subjective narrow self’s sentiments; a citizen of nothing. You become a citizen of nothing. You are by yourself and alone, kneeling to yourself.
Marathe: In a case such as this you become the slave who believes he is free. The most pathetic of bondage. Not tragic. No songs. You believe you would die twice for another but in truth would die only for your alone self, its sentiment.
Marathe: You in such a case have nothing. You stand on nothing. Nothing of ground or rock beneath your feet. You fall; you blow here and there. How does one say: ‘tragically, involuntarily, lost.’
Steeply: farts mildly.
Marathe: 'OH SAY, LAND OF THE FREE'
-108, IJ

Marathe: Again you pass over what is important. Why BSS cannot understand us. You cannot kill what is already dead.

Steeply: Just you wait and see if we’re dead, paisano.

Marathe: Again passing over the important. This appetite to choose death by pleasure if it is available to choose - this appetite of your people unable to choose appetites, this is the death. What you call the death, the collapsing: this will be the formality only. Do you not see?

p319, IJ

Posted at 10:57am and tagged with: DFW, David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest, Lit, Writers, Music, The Strokes, Soma, Brave New World, Aldous Huxley, Pleasure, Death,.

Marathe: This is what happens: you imagine the things I will say and then say them for me and then become angry with them. Without my mouth; it never opens. You speak to yourself, inventing sides. This itself is the habit of children: lazy, lonely, self.

p321, IJ

Marathe & Steeply, somehow I guess

Marathe & Steeply, somehow, I guess. Photo by Aaron Wiener, Slate.com

Posted at 11:34am and tagged with: Art, Books, DFW, David Foster Wallace, Germany, Infinite Jest, Lit, Slate, Theater, Writers, Quote, Quotes,.