26 Days of Jest: Day 12

Back to work after a Bank Holiday Weekend. Back to the Infinite Jest Reading Challenge. Almost a Soul II Soul song, not quite. We’re reading pages 432 to 464.

By the way, all my gifs will be Drag Race themed as I’m going to the Werq The World Tour tonight.

– Page 434. Kind of Schtitty (geddit?) to make the kids stay in the Clipperton suite as a punishment. On the subject of Gately: is he completely rehabilitated or is there something in the offing? He’s working really hard here.

– Page 437. That poisoned family story, whilst being impossible and very grim, is quite amusing.

– Page 439. Please not the puppet show again.

– Page 447. Gately in this part seems to sincerely want to believe in a higher power and is struggling. I feel for him. There’s a vulnerable naivety in him; and he’s starting to see the AA types and God-fearing types for what they are: just as confused as him. Just as lost. But pretending to know what the fuck they’re talking about. Is this DFW relating his own experiences? I hope a remission isn’t on the way. His recollections of his Mother are terribly sad.

– Page 452. Ooh, have we had a Charles Tavis POV before? “This is the one time of the day Charles doesn’t look bright blue”

It’s not Drag Race themed but I had to.

-Page 457. I wonder how many of these poor kids will end up at AA with Don Gately.

Page 459. “There are very few shrill Germans actually”.  Struck me as very funny as I’ve worked with a few German men with tempers (and they got very shrill).

Page 462. For reasons I’m not fully understanding, the case against Gately for his botched burglary, in which he accidentally killed someone, was dropped, and it’s something to do with the Bureau of Non Specific Services (Tine?).

Page 464. Pat has a  “sexually credible body, even though her right arm had atrophied into a kind of semi-claw”. Sexually credible. Oh my god. On that note, I am done.

To end, I wanted to share with you this artist’s impression of Mario Incandenza, credit to Timothy Kreider.

Until tomorrow, mama. Okrrrr. House down, boots!



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