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- Hey. Bob, what's up? - Hi. Listen.
According to an unconfirmed report, David Wallace is dead.
What? No. No, no, no.
No, It must be some sort of a college prank or something.
Well, I thought if anybody knew whether it was true or not, it'd be you.
Now a remembrance of writer David Foster Wallace.
He was found dead, an apparent suicide, on Friday night.
Wallace's novel, Infinite Jest, brought him fame...
and a wide audience.
Writer David Lipsky has this appreciation.
"To read David Foster Wallace was to feel your eyelids pulled open.
Some writers specialize in the 'away from home' experience.
They have safaried, eaten across Italy, covered a war.
Wallace offered his alive self,
cutting through our sleepy aquarium,
our standard TV, stores, political campaigns.
Writers who can do this-- like Salinger and Fitzgerald--
forge an unbreakable bond with readers.
You didn't slip into the books looking for a story, information,
but for a particular experience--
the sensation, for a certain number of pages,
of being David Foster Wallace."
If anything, there was a conscious attempt...
to not give overt direction,
although, of course, you end up becoming yourself.
Did they want you to be a writer or no?
No. I was gonna be-- The big thing, when I was little--
I was-- I was, like, a really serious jock. Really?
Yeah. I played citywide football as a kid.
I was really big, really strong as a kid.
And then for four or five years, I was gonna be, like, a pro tennis player.
That was my great dream.
Reading was just this kind of fun,
sort of weird thing that I did on the side.
"I didn't understand SoHo--
the warehouses, the old buildings, the cobbled streets.
It wasn't the Upper East Side, and it was dirty.
I felt marooned.
Our mother had taken us off the track of the nice life we'd been on.
She'd moored us in a creepy cul-de-sac with her art-world friends.
None of the kids in my school had parents in the art world.
It made me feel different,
like there was something I had to cover up."
It was great. Sorry I missed it.
Don't worry about it.
Hey. I heard you got that Rolling Stone job.
We'll see. I'm sort of on probation. Good luck.
Did you see Kirn's review in New York magazine?
The guy's been fuckin' canonized.
Sorry. Who's this?
David Foster Wallace.
"Next year's book awards have been decided." Can you believe this?
"The plaques and citations can now be put into escrow." It's unbelievable.
"With Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace,
a plutonium-dense, satirical quiz-kid opus that runs to almost a thousand"-- What?
"a thousand pages, not including footnotes,
the competition has been obliterated.
It's as though Paul Bunyan had joined the NFL...
or Wittgenstein had gone onto Jeopardy!.
The novel is that colossally disruptive and that spectacularly good."
That's the fucking opening paragraph.
What if it actually is that good?
You might just have to read it.
Shit.
Good piece. Thanks a lot.
Solid piece. I'm fine with it.
But you gotta clear it with Legal, okay?
How many times have we interviewed a writer in the last 10 years?
Take a guess.
Uh, how many?
Zero. I checked.
Maybe because Rolling Stone doesn't interview writers.
There hasn't been a writer like this. Okay?
Once in a generation maybe. Hemingway, Pynchon.
Let me have this story. What story?
He's finishing up a book tour, and I want to go with him.
That's not a story.
He teaches at some small state university somewhere in Illinois.
Please, Bob. Send me there.
This is the sort of stuff I should be doing, not 500 words on boy bands.
Talk to Jann.
There better be a story there.
There will be. There better.
David, hi. It's David Lipsky. Where are you?
I think I may have made a wrong turn somewhere.
Let's see. I am on County Highway 29...
just across from the Circus Video.
How'd you get this number?
Your publicist sent it in her e-mail, just in case.
You'd do me a favor by losing it.
Stay. Be calm. Be calm. Stay.
Hey. You made it. Yeah.
Dave. Dave Wallace.
David Lipsky. Hi. It's a pleasure.
Likewise.
Um, I'm sorry about the, uh-- the phone call.
No, you're fine.
It was 95% joke. Right, right. Yeah.
Sorry in advance about the dogs. They'll be slobbering all over you.
I don't mind at all. I love dogs.
Oh, yeah? You haven't met these guys yet. No, I love 'em.
Let's, uh-- Oh, Jesus. Let's get inside. It's cold.
Boys. Get in there. Thanks a lot.
Ooh. Come on. Come on, buddy.
Wait. I'm very glad to meet you too. Good dog.
Who's that? Oh, that's Jeeves.
Hi. Yeah, that's the Jeeve-meister.
I got him 'cause he was so ugly. Nobody else wanted him.
Now he's, like, a cover girl dog.
And that's Drone. That's my provisional dog.
Why? Why provisional?
He just showed up one day while Jeeves and I were out jogging.
The rest is history.
I feel like I should offer you tea or something.
Yeah. Yeah, thanks. That'd be great. Yeah? Okay.
Nice view.
Thank you. I can't take credit for it.
Huh.
So, um, have you always been unlisted?
I had to do that recently. It was getting kind of crazy.
Oh. Because of-- Because of fans.
I don't know if "fan" is exactly the right word.
I think what happened was I had forgotten to tell my parents not to give my number out.
So it was people who had tracked my parents down.
I have this terrible problem. I really hate to hurt people's feelings.
Mmm, right. So I did somethin' kind of cowardly.
No. I don't think unlisting your number is cowardly. Kind of is.
I changed my number so these folks couldn't find me anymore.
Right.
There was this computer operator from Vancouver.
He was living in a basement or something.
I found him very moving. He was in terrible, terrible pain.
What did he want from you?
It's unclear. And when I would, sorta like, ask him,
that's when he would get angry, and then it got scary.
Right. What-What is this? Who's the artist?
That's my friend's daughter. Calls me chicken head.
I call her chicken head.
It's her latest salvo in the war.
Um, that's funny. Would you mind if I--
No. Do what you gotta do. Thank you.
Listen, before we start putting stuff on tape, I need to ask you something.
I need to know that anything that I say five minutes later not to put in,
that you're not gonna put it in.
Absolutely.
Just given my level of fatigue and my fuckup quotient lately,
it's the only way I can see doin' it and not-- not going crazy.
No. I completely understand.
It's right back on, huh? Mmm.
Uh, you agreed to the interview.
So this is your road, huh?
Yeah, this is my road.
You're gonna have to tell me where to turn. I'm used to a grid system.
This is all new territory for me.
Fair enough. You just go straight for about a mile.
There'll be signs for the school on the right.
Got it. Do you like teaching there?
I do. Yeah, very much. Which is what's so fucked.
I feel so bad for these kids. Why do you feel bad for them?
They have the greatest writing teacher in the world.
If I was there, maybe. The whole fuss--
it's taken me out of school for the past two weeks.
And we gotta leave again tomorrow.
We gotta be up at the crack of dawn to go to the airport.
Oh, shit. Do we really? That's what you signed on for, man.
You're welcome to stick around and write an article about my dogs.
No, that's just fine. Might be more interesting. I promise you.
Do yourself a favor. Don't expect any fireworks in there.
I'm sure you're gonna be just fine.
Campus-romance story.
Ah! I gotta tell you guys,
the average citizen is not gonna find it that interesting.
The great dread of creative writing professors?
"Their eyes met over the keg."
I just want my narrator to be funny and smart, you know?
I know, I know. I get it.
You want your narrator to be funny and smart.
Here's a tip.
Have him say funny, smart things some of the time.
Thank you.
You did a good job. Thank you.
Um, all right, who's next? Melissa.
I'm normally a much better teacher than that, I swear.
I thought you were great and that they obviously love you.
Oh, yeah? Do you think?
Yeah, come on, you know they do.
You hungry?
And what can I get you to drink?
I'll just have, like, a giant Diet Rite, please.
You know what, I'll have the same thing.
I'll be right back with your pop. Thanks, man.
Oh. Uh, can I, uh--
Do you mind if I-- One second.
Uh--
You don't drink.
Is that a question to me?
No. No, it's an observation.
Ah, I see. No, I know. No, I do not drink.
You can order whatever you want though. Go right ahead.
No, no. That's fine.
I have a lot of friends who have been through the program, so--
They always tell me that they're uncomfortable...
with people drinking right in front of them.
So I just-- Ah.
I mean, out of respect, I-- I got what you got.
I'm not any sort of authority on any sort of program.
From my very limited outside understanding,
for people who have been in it a while,
you could snort cocaine off the back of your hand, they'd be all right.
Right. Right. Right.
You know what I would love to do, man? What's that?
I would love to do a profile on one of you guys who's doin' a profile on me.
That is interesting. Is that too pomo and cute?
Maybe for Rolling Stone.
It would be interesting though. You think?
I'm sorry, man. What's wrong?
It's just you're gonna go back to New York and sit at your desk...
and shape this thing however you want.
To me, it's just extremely disturbing.
Why is it disturbing?
Because I think I would like to shape the impression of me that's coming across.
I don't even know if I like you yet.
I'm so nervous about whether you like me.
Here you go.
Your food will be out soon. Can I get you anything else?
No, we're fine. Thank you. Thanks.
Um--
What's this story about in your mind?
What does Jann want?
Just what it's like to be the most talked about writer in the country...
or that sort of thing. Right.
Which makes it sound--
How do you learn to do this stuff?
Do what? The interviewing.
Does one go to interviewing school?
Yes, I went to eight years of interviewing school.
So you got a master's? I did.
Um, no. No, I'm-- I'm a writer.
Uh, okay. Great. Yeah.
I mean I write fiction as well. I--
I just had a novel published actually.
Great. Yeah.
What's-- What's that called?
The Art Fair. The Art Fair. Great.
And I had a collection published a few years ago, so--
You're, like, a nervous guy, huh?
No, no. No, I'm okay. How are you? I-- 'Cos I'm terrified.
Are you? Yes. You're not alone in this.
Okay. We'll do this together.
No, I think it's gonna be a lot of fun. Yeah.
The thing about the tour is, yes,
I would like to get laid off of it a couple of times.
People come up. They kind of, like, slither up.
And it seems like-- I don't know.
What I want is not to have to take any action.
What kind of action? I don't want to have to say, like,
"Do you want to come back to the hotel?"
I want them to say, "I am coming back to your hotel."
"Where is your hotel?" That would be easier for you, wouldn't it?
I can't stand to look like I'm actively trading off this sexually.
Which, of course, I'd be happy to do.
I think, in retrospect, I'm probably very lucky that I didn't.
Lucky? Why?
It just would have made me feel lonely. You know?
Lonely? How so?
It wouldn't have had anything to do with me.
I think it would have been... just--
Your fame? Yeah. Whatever.
Your fame. You can say it. Fine, fine.
You're famous. Okay, whatever.
You are. Except, though, if they're responding to your work...
and your work is really personal,
then reading you is another way of meeting you.
Isn't that right?
That's so good. Thank you.
This piece will be excellent if it's mostly you.
Talk all you want, man. Save me a whole lot of trouble.
Wow! So this is what a real car feels like.
The one I got is like riding around on a power lawn mower.
You know?
Do you think being handsome has anything to do with your success?
- What? - No, you're photogenic.
You look good in your author's photo. Come on.
You have to come put me down if I even start thinking that way.
Thinking what way? What, about how books are sold?
Like, "Do you want to do a Rolling Stone interview?"
Do you want to do X? Do you want to do Y?
It really worries me that what I'm doing right now is like being a whore.
A whore? Hey. Why?
Cashing in somehow or like getting some little celebrity for myself...
that will, from some bizarre set of misunderstandings, sell more copies of the book.
- Mmm, okay. - You can quote that if you want.
Preferably in a context where I don't sound like a total dweeb.
Don't worry about it.
By the way, are they gonna send Annie Leibovitz to take pictures?
I'm not sure. Possibly. See how the story turns out.
I know. You're a really good-looking guy.
We should have 'em photograph you, say you're me.
Maybe I'll finally end up getting laid.
You're gonna drink all that?
I don't want to have to come back. I wish they had a case.
Actually, that's a good idea. Um--
Get the marshmallow one too, please.
All right. One?
Two. Two. Of course.
Why would I get one? One second. Okay.
Okay, all right. I think that's enough. Come on.
Hey, Kim. Hi. We'll take all of these.
- Please, let me. - No, you don't have to pay for my shit.
No, no. It's not coming out of my pocket. I have an expense account.
If you insist, yeah. Yeah.
If we ate like this all the time-- Yeah?
What would be wrong with that? What would be wrong?
Besides your teeth falling out and getting really fat?
It's got none of the nourishment of real food,
but it is real pleasurable masticating and swallowing this stuff.
Yes, it is. It's like seductive commercial entertainment.
Mmm, but what saves us is that most entertainment is not very good.
But what about good seductive commercial entertainment like-- like Die Hard?
First Die Hard? Great film. No, it's a brilliant film.
The best. So good. Absolutely.
I think, if the book is about anything,
it's about the question of "Why?" Right.
"Why am I watching all this shit?"
It's not about the shit. It's about me. Right. Yeah.
So why am I doing it?
And what's so American about what I'm doing?
The minute I start talking about this stuff, it sounds, number one, very vague,
and number two, really reductive.
I don't think you're being vague or reductive at all.
Okay, because I don't have a diagnosis...
or a system of prescriptions as to why we--
When I say "we," I mean people just like you and me--
mostly white, upper middle class,
obscenely well educated, doing really interesting jobs,
sitting in really expensive chairs watching the best,
most sophisticated electronic equipment money can buy.
Why do we feel so empty and unhappy?
Right. It's kind of like Hamlet except with channel surfing.
I'm not saying that watching TV is bad or a waste of your time...
any more than, like, masturbation is bad or a waste of your time.
It's a pleasurable way to spend a few minutes.
But if you're doing it 20 times a day--
if your primary sexual relationship is with your own hand,
something is wrong.
Except at least with masturbation,
some action is being performed, right?
Isn't that-- That's better.
Okay, you could make me look like a real dick if you print this.
No, I'm not going to, but, if you can, speak into the mike.
Yes, you're performing muscular movements with your hand as you're jerking off.
But what you're really doing, I think,
is you're running a movie in your head.
You're having a fantasy relationship with somebody who is not real...
strictly to stimulate a neurological response.
So as the Internet grows in the next 10, 15 years...
and virtual reality pornography becomes a reality,
we're gonna have to develop some real machinery inside our guts...
to turn off pure, unalloyed pleasure.
Or, I don't know about you, I'm gonna have to leave the planet.
'Cause the technology is just gonna get better and better.
And it's gonna get easier and easier...
and more and more convenient and more and more pleasurable...
to sit alone with images on a screen...
given to us by people who do not love us but want our money.
And that's fine in low doses,
but if it's the basic main staple of your diet,
you're gonna die.
Well, come on.
In a meaningful way, you're going to die.
Hey. Can I try that actually?
Yeah. It takes some getting used to. Go ahead.
Thanks.
It goes right there. Yeah, I know.
Mmm. That's, um--
Actually, can I-- Can I use your bathroom for a second?
I believe it's unoccupied.
Mm!
Hey. Hey.
So, do you not have a television?
I do not have a TV, no. How come?
Because if I had a TV, I would watch it all the time.
Ah. I don't even know if I would watch it all the time,
but it would be on all the time.
My version of a fireplace-- some sort of source of warmth and light...
in the corner, I'd occasionally get sucked into.
Did you watch a lot of TV when you were a kid?
Yeah, a lot. You?
I, uh-- Me? Yeah. No, I did. I did.
But I moved in with a woman, and she grew up without a television.
So living with her for the first month was like torture.
But then I realized it was probably the best thing for me.
Did you guys stay together? It was complicated.
Why?
Well, I was seeing this woman, and she moved to LA,
so we theoretically broke up.
Then I started seeing this other woman.
But then I started seeing the first woman again. We tried the bicoastal thing.
And let's just say the second woman didn't take to that very well.
It's so much easier having dogs.
I'm sure it is.
Yes, you don't get laid, but you don't have that feeling...
like you're hurting their feelings all the time.
Right, right, right.
I'd like to emphasize--
strictly platonic relationship with the dogs.
I'll make sure to highlight that in the article, sure.
Uh, so, you're not dating anybody then?
Seriously dating? No. I'm out of practice.
I wouldn't even know what to say.
Do you want to have kids?
I think someday I would. You? Yeah.
Yeah, I think, eventually. Yeah.
I think that writing books is a little bit like raising children.
You have to be careful though.
It's okay to take pride in the work,
but I think it's bad to want the glory to reflect back on you.
It sounds like you're worried about having children.
I don't know that I want to say anything more about that.
If that's okay. That's fine.
It's fine for us to joke about getting laid on tour and stuff,
but that's-- that's about it.
I just thought it'd be nice to have someone...
to be sharing all this wonderful stuff with.
That's it. Yeah.
I'd really wished that I was married the past couple weeks.
You have?
Yeah. Nobody else really gets it, you know?
Your friends who aren't in the writing biz are just--
They're awed by your picture in Time.
Your agent and editor are good people,
but they have their own agendas.
It's fun talking to you about it, but you've got your own agenda too.
- That's true. - Certainly a set of interests that diverge from mine.
That's true.
So, yeah, it would be nice to have somebody that you shared a life with...
and allowed yourself to be happy and... confused with.
Somebody to call when you get back to the hotel.
I got a question. Why aren't you married, at 30?
Why aren't you married, at 34?
You first. Okay.
Uh-- I don't know.
I just think it's hard to cast that role, you know,
to fill it when you know it's gonna be like 30 to 40 years.
To find someone who, whatever mental landscape you're in,
they're gonna be in it too.
You have to find someone who will fit any landscape you can imagine.
I don't know.
I can't put it as well as you can,
you know, about these mental landscapes.
I just-- I know that I'm hard to be around.
- No, I don't think so. - I am.
Why do you say that?
When I want to be alone, like, to write,
I really do want to be alone.
I think if you dedicate yourself to anything,
one facet of that is that it makes you very, very self-conscious.
And you end up using people--
wanting them around when you want them around...
and then sending them away.
But that comes with the territory--
if you're gonna be a writer-- that kind of self-consciousness.
There's good self-consciousness.
Then there's also a toxic, paralyzing,
"raped by psychic bedouins" kind of self-consciousness. Right.
That is scary. Yeah, that sounds worse.
Can you do me a favor? Could you tell me about that poster over there?
Alanis? Yeah.
I don't know. I guess I'm susceptible like everybody else. Why?
I mean, she's pretty, but it's the only thing in there.
She's pretty in a very sloppy, very human way.
She's got this squeaky, orgasmic quality to her voice.
You know, here's what it is.
A lot of women in magazines are pretty in a way that is not erotic...
because they don't look like anybody that you know.
That's true.
You can't imagine them putting a quarter in a parking meter...
or, like, eating a bologna sandwich.
Whereas, Alanis Morissette,
I can and have imagined her just, like, chowing down on a bologna sandwich.
- I find her absolutely riveting. - Nice. How did you get into her? How did you get into her music?
I was listening to this cheesy Bloomington radio,
and "I Want to Tell You" came on.
"You Oughta Know." But right.
I don't know what that means.
I Want to Tell You is a book that O.J. Simpson wrote.
Ah! That's a different thing. Yeah.
Although, wouldn't it be funny if O.J. Simpson sang "You Oughta Know"...
and Alanis Morissette wrote a book about not killing two people?
Oh, man.
I tell you, if this whole fuss, whatever,
could get me a five-minute cup of tea with her--
Yo. Why don't you put out feelers...
and see if she'd be willing to meet you?
Are you serious? I would never do that. Why not?
I would be terrified. Why, would you do that?
If I were you, yeah, I would do that.
A date with Alanis Morissette? What would I say?
"Hello, Miss Morissette. What is it like to be you?"
"I don't know.
Shut up and get the fuck away from me."
That's that beautiful squeaky voice you like. That's right. And orgasmic.
But you would go if she called you.
"Hey, Dave, I'm at the Drake in Chicago. Let's have tea."
This is gonna look ridiculous.
It's gonna look like I'm using Rolling Stone...
as a vehicle to, like--
- It's been used for worse. - Yes, I would do it.
Okay? I would do it in a heartbeat. Good.
Perspiring heavily the whole way,
the whole time shoving Certs into my mouth. Exactly.
Freaking out. It would cause me a week of absolute trauma.
And, yes, I would do it in a-- in a heartbeat.
Okay? Are you happy? We got that?
It's on the record. Okay.
Um--
I like-- Eh.
I like talking to you about this stuff.
But we should-- We gotta be up early.
Really? What time is it? It's, like, 10:00.
I think it's, like, 11:30, dick brain.
Oh, shit. Jesus. I am so sorry.
I totally lost track of time.
What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?
Where you going?
There's a motel down the road. I think it's a Days Inn.
Oh, no, you don't want to stay there. Trust me.
I got a guest-roomish place you could stay in.
No, I don't want to impose.
Don't thank me. It's not much.
Okay.
No, it's great. Thank you.
I should probably clean some of that shit off the bed.
Right. Maximum comfort.
Thanks.
Definitely want to change that sheet.
No, it's fine. Thank you.
Just throw it wherever. Okay. Here you go.
Grab one side of this. All right, thanks.
And you want to change the pillows or just keep them?
I don't think you're going to catch anything incurable.
That's all right. I got penicillin.
Okay. You're good? Yeah.
Do me a favor. Leave the door open for the dogs.
They like to wander from room to room at night.
If the door's closed, they'll eat it to get through it if they have to.
- Are you serious? - Yeah.
Okay, yeah. Okay. Good night.
Good night. Thanks. Cool.
Oh. All right.
Hey, buddy. Okay. How are ya?
Okay. Hey. Oh. All right.
Psst! Okay.
All right. Thanks. Okay.
All right. Okay. Have a good night.
Okay.
Oh. Hey.
If you want any, there's coffee.
I don't need caffeine to wake up.
Oh, but, uh, cigarettes?
Brothers of the lung. Mmm.
Do you want to split this with me? It's my last one.
Uh, no, thanks.
Just-- Here.
Mi Pop-Tart es su Pop-Tart.
Thanks. Try it.
It's delicious, right?
It's really good.
There's a Mitsubishi plant.
Then there's a lot of farm support.
There's Ro-Tech, Anderson Seeds.
What are you doing here? I mean, why are you not in New York?
Every time I go to New York, I get caught up in this--
There's this enormous hiss of egos at various states of inflation and deflation.
Yeah. Hey, um, sorry. I gotta do this.
Okay.
So, I gotta ask. What is with the bandanna?
What? What do you mean?
No, people think it's your way of connecting to a younger reading audience.
Is that what people think?
I don't see many Gen Xers wearing them. Geez.
I kinda wish you hadn't brought this up, man.
I'm sorry about that. Why?
Because now I'm worried it's going to seem intentional.
Like, if I don't wear it, am I not wearing it...
because I'm bowing to other people's perception that it's a commercial choice?
Or do I do what I wanna do even though it's perceived as a commercial choice?
It's like a whole crazy circle I gotta go around in now.
Come on. Sorry.
When did you start wearing them?
In Tucson. It was, like, a hundred degrees all the time.
I would perspire so heavily, drip into the electric typewriter.
I was nervous I was gonna give myself a shock.
And then, at some point, I realized I felt better with them on.
I know that it's a security blanket for me whenever I feel nervous...
or, like, I gotta keep myself together.
Makes me feel kind of creepy, people view it as an affectation...
or a trademark or something.
It's more of a foible,
the recognition of a weakness that I'm kind of afraid my head is gonna explode.
Right.
Your parents are both academics. Is that right?
My dad, philosophy. My mom, English.
So. You?
Me? Yeah.
My dad is in advertising, and my mom's a painter.
When they split up, I moved in with her to SoHo,
and my brother moved in with my dad.
Sounds like there's a story there.
Oh, there is. I-- I just wrote it.
What was it like, you know, growing up in a house divided like that?
Hey. Who's interviewing who?
How old were you when you started writing fiction?
Like, 21. Something like that.
Really? Never before?
I think I started a World War II novel when I was nine.
Did you? That's very ambitious. Thank you.
It was so good, some of my best work. Come on.
It was about people with hyperdeveloped skills and powers...
going to invade Hitler's bunker.
Very nice.
Then, in college, I wrote a couple of papers for other people.
Really? People paid you to write their papers for them?
I wouldn't put it that coarsely. How would you--
There was a complicated system of rewards. I see.
I would read two or three of their papers...
and get a sense of what their music was like.
At some point, I realized I'm really good at this.
I'm like a strange kind of forger.
I can sort of sound like anybody.
It's kind of scary. Um--
Odds are I'm gonna want to interview your parents.
What for? Just biographical stuff.
Right.
I hereby request that you don't.
Really? They're very private people.
And so I would have a problem with that. Mmm, okay.
So, no, you may not.
Okay. I may not.
Now boarding, Flight 54 to Minneapolis.
Ticket. Thank you.
Crap jobs? Oh, man.
I was a security guard at a software company for three and a half months.
Really? I walked around in this polyester uniform...
under these fluorescent lights, twirling a baton,
checking in on the walkie every 10 minutes.
"All clear at this cubicle."
It was like every bad '60s novel about meaningless authority.
You're thinking, "My God, I had two books come out in my early 20s, and here I am."
No. No, as a matter of fact, one of the things I liked about that job...
is that I walked around not thinking. Really?
Mmm, in a very, like, "Huh. A ceiling tile" sort of way.
And what about after the security guard thing? Was there anything else?
Oh, this is the worst. What?
Get this down. I am.
I was a towel boy at this chichi health club. You were a towel boy?
I was called something other than a towel boy. I was, in effect, a towel boy.
Occasionally trusted with checking people in. "Show your ID."
Anyway, one day I'm sitting there.
Who should walk in to get their towel but this guy,
this writer that I knew who won a Whiting writer's award the same year I had.
Oh, God. Yeah.
So there I am. I'm sitting there.
I'd been on a rostrum with this guy-- Holy shit.
having Eudora Welty give us an award.
Two years later, I'm sitting there--
It's the first time I remember ever actively diving under something...
to have somebody avoid seeing me.
You dove under a table? Something like that.
Did you think you were done? I thought life was over. I was pretty sure.
And was this after your suicide watch?
Okay, how do you know about that?
I-- I read about it somewhere.
This was McLean's, right? How long were you there?
I was there for eight days. And why were you there?
Because I was probably afraid that I would do something stupid.
Okay.
I had a friend in high school who tried to kill himself...
by sitting in a garage with the car running.
And what it turned out was he didn't die.
It just really fucked up his brain.
And I, you know--
I knew that if anyone was fated to fuck up a suicide attempt, it was me.
So there you are. You're still in your 20s.
My late 20s. Okay, your late 20s.
And you're in some kind of pain...
about your desire to become some sort of successful literary person.
I think that the not very sophisticated diagnosis is that I was depressed.
Okay.
Okay. At that point, my ego was all tied up in my writing.
It's the only thing that I'd gotten any, like,
food pellets from the universe for.
And I felt very trapped.
"Oh, my five years are up and I gotta move on.
I don't want to move on."
And I felt stuck.
And it's not like I felt stuck because I drank, okay?
It was like I felt my life was over at 28,
and I felt really bad.
I did not want to feel that, so I did all sorts of stuff.
I would drink real heavy.
I would... fuck strangers.
Sometimes I would not drink at all, not drink at all for two weeks.
Instead, I would run 10 miles every morning in a desperate--
like, a very American...
"I will fix this somehow by taking radical action" sort of thing.
And here you are promoting this acclaimed book.
That's not bad.
David, this is nice.
This is not real.
By the way, an escort is supposed to pick me up...
and escort me to the reading.
Of course, when I hear "escort," I picture, like, full geisha and hair--
Of course, right.
Take you to the bookstore and take you back to the hotel,
walk on your back and then just fuck your eyeballs out.
I think that's her. Ah, just as I pictured.
Mr. Wallace. Just "Dave."
I recognize you from your photograph. Okay.
I'm Patty Gundersson.
And welcome to Minneapolis.
Thank you, Patty. Hi. I'm David Lipsky. How are you?
Hi. Okay. David and David. That's easy.
- It's the Twin Cities, so-- - Hmm.
We only just met. He's writing a piece on the tour.
- Should we get going? - Yes. Come on. Come on. Great.
How's your morning, Patty? Oh, it's good.
How about you guys? Was the flight all right?
You would not believe the famous people I've driven.
Shirley MacLaine when she was on her book tour.
Ron Wood, you know, of the Rolling Stones.
Of course. Yeah. Wow.
Peter O'Toole. Oh, my gosh.
Very thin, but delightful.
Hey! Look, there's the Mary Tyler Moore statue.
Yeah, there it is.
Did you want to stop?
Oh. No, it's fine.
Thank you. Are you sure?
Everybody who comes here, that's the first thing they want to see.
"Where did Mary Tyler Moore throw her hat up in the air?"
It's really one of our biggest attractions.
Are you sure you don't want me to stop?
Definitely. No. Thank you though.
Trust me. This is about as sexy as the tour gets.
Mr.-- Uh, Lipsky.
L-I-P-S-K-Y.
I've got you in a standard double.
And Mr. Wallace? Yes.
You have a room with twins.
Ah, yes. Anita and Consuela.
Excuse me?
All right, man. I'll see you soon. I'm gonna take a nap.
Oh. Uh--
Yeah.
What does he say about the heroin rumors?
I haven't gotten to that.
What are you waiting for?
What am I supposed to say? "Is it true you were a heroin addict?"
Yes. That's your story.
Okay, well, that's-- It's hard.
Why, because you like him? Yeah. Yes.
David, you gotta press him. Okay.
Be a prick if you have to. You're not his best buddy. I know.
You're a reporter. All right. Bye.
It's right up here.
Ready?
- Ah! - There he is.
I can't believe you guys actually came.
Yeah, of course. Hi. Hi.
Wouldn't miss it. Hello.
Gluttons for punishment, both of you. I know.
Uh, this is Dave Lipsky. He's a reporter from Rolling Stone.
Yes. Hi. Oh.
This is Julie. Hi. Nice to meet you, Julie.
Great to meet you.
And, uh-- This is Betsy.
Betsy and I went to grad school together.
How nice. Nice to meet you, Betsy.
And, Julie, how do you--
Julie-- Here, turn this on. This is on, right?
It is. Why? Go ahead. Do you wanna--
I'll do it. Julie wrote me a fan letter.
Really? Mm-hmm.
I really did. I-- Yeah.
I was the books editor at City Pages, and I wrote him a fan letter.
Julie's worked with a whole lot of writers.
So I was very discriminating.
And then it turned out that we actually like each other as people.
Indeed. That's actually what happened with Jon Franzen and me.
I wrote him a fan letter. Turns out writers are real pushovers...
when it comes to flattery.
So you could try that sometime.
I got it. Very subtle.
Friends of friends who have friends, as well,
who actually know who-- Cookies?
Oh, no. Thanks a lot. Oh, no. Thank you.
Cookies?
Really? Yes, and I've actually been sworn to secrecy.
Are you sure I can't get you something to drink?
Do you have any artificial spit?
I don't know why you guys are laughing.
It's an actual pharmaceutical product.
Called Xero-Lube. It's like artificial saliva?
That's right. That's right, David. Really?
Except it's better because it actually lubricates.
You don't get that, like--
I see. That clicky sound.
Could you do that for Rolling Stone? Here you go.
I'll have to remember that.
It's all right. Next tour, I'll bring myself a case.
In the meantime, what can I get you?
Just water with no ice, please.
Are you a fiction wri-- This is off the record. Oh, good.
Are you a fiction writer? I'm a poet actually.
Really? Could I have seen anything of yours?
I just had my first poem published in The Kenyon Review.
Really? Wow. Congratulations. Yes. Thank you.
I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a prima donna,
but do you mind if we don't do a Q and A?
Yeah, of course. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.
Thank you. Sure.
It's always questions like, "Where do you get your ideas?"
I don't know. From a Time-Life subscription series for 17.95 a month.
Okay. Now, it's show time. Okay.
Here we go. Yeah.
It's all downhill from here. It's fine.
This is the very last stop on his book tour,
and we're very lucky to get him.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Hungry Mind,
David Foster Wallace.
Hello. Hi. Hi.
No, I never show my mother anything.
Now I feel embarrassed that I said that.
But that's very sweet. It is, right?
What's that supposed to be, a computer?
No, that's a smiley face. Oh. Right.
I could put white-out on it if you want.
That's okay. It's your book. Okay.
Oh, man. This old thing. Do you mind?
I don't mind, but the new one's a lot better.
Awesome.
I just realized that they-- they want me to be good.
You know what I mean?
It's just something about, like, giving back.
You know, in that way.
That made me feel kind of better about everything.
Please, give us the-- It's not-- There's no story.
How did it happen then? Okay.
I couldn't be regular old Dave Wallace...
'cause there were Dave Wallaces all over the place.
And David Rains Wallace wrote for the New Yorker. I don't know if you remember.
So then, one day-- It was Fred Hill asked me,
"What's your middle name?" Dave Foster Wallace. That's it.
That's your story? Yes.
That is literally the worst superhero origin story I've ever heard.
I cannot claim that it was an origin story.
Dave, remember in Tucson that professor you kind of locked horns with?
Oh, man. My nemesis, who shall remain nameless. Oh, come on.
I was just kind of a prick. I think he was too. I was unteachable.
I don't think I was actively unpleasant in class.
You were pretty unpleasant.
Okay, Betsy. Betsy. Really.
Oh, I loved it. I loved it.
Betsy, this is-- She loved it.
He was pleasantly unpleasant.
That's a great quote, if you want to quote something.
I'm gonna have to interview the teacher as well though.
Hmm.
I have to be up unconscionably early for this public radio interview,
so we should probably get going.
That means I have to get up early too.
You can do whatever the fuck you want. You know?
You can sleep in if you want to.
Well, we'll get you back to the hotel then.
Check. You know what, I will get the check.
I'll get it. Please, this one is on me.
Well, it's on Jann. No, no. It's on me.
Jann? Jann's his boss.
No, this one is on me. It was just so nice to meet you guys.
Mr. Rolling Stone. Yeah.
Can you close the window? It's fucking freezing.
No, sorry, I cannot. This is our hypothermia smoking tour of the Midwest.
Hypothermia smoking tour. I love that.
- Oh, thank you. - Sounds like something Dave would say.
Doesn't it?
Thanks, ladies. Yeah, sure.
Yeah, thank you so much. Sure. What are you doing tomorrow?
Oh. I'm not sure yet.
Well, give us a call if you want. We're here.
Okay. Will do.
Thanks again for coming. Thank you so much.
Nice to meet you, Julie.
Bye, Betsy. Bye. Bye, David.
That was fun. Yeah, it was nice.
All right, I'm hungry. Still?
Yeah, it's terrifying when it's happening.
Really? How does it feel though?
People fighting to get in. A big line of people wanting to impress you.
I tell you what. I think that having an audience--
like, really, really pretty girls--
who are all paying attention to you and kind of like what you're saying,
that's gratifying on a fairly, I think, just simple mammal level.
I know. Why is that?
I think pretty girls are what we most dream and despair of ever having,
like, pay attention to us.
There they are in the front row making eyes at you.
I think my girlfriend is in love with you.
Come on. No, she's not. No, really.
I think she is.
I think she likes your writing better than mine. That's kind of annoying.
Let's get her on the phone. Get her on the phone. What?
No.
No. I don't know. She's--
She's probably sleeping anyway.
Please.
Hello? Hi.
How's it going? It's, uh-- Did I wake you up?
No. I'm up reading Infinite Jest.
Pretty amazing. Oh. Good.
Listen, I'm here with somebody who wants to talk to you.
Can you hold on a second? What's her name again?
It's Sarah. Yeah. Sarah.
Sarah, hi. It's Dave Wallace.
Nice to meet you telephonically.
It's nice to meet you telephonically as well.
Is David behaving himself? Let me ask him.
Are you behaving yourself?
She's asking that?
I'm reasonably sure that he is.
I don't have eyes on him 24-7.
Sarah? Okay.
What are you doin' tonight? Don't ask her that.
Oh, wow. You're kidding me. Oh, my gosh. Yes. It's awesome.
What part are you on?
369. Wow, you're really far along.
I know. I can't put it down. Oh, thank you.
Really, thank you. I mean, that's very flattering.
What the fuck was that about? What?
You were on the phone with him for half an hour.
It wasn't a half hour. It was. It was 25 minutes. Okay? I timed it.
You were only supposed to say hello.
- David? - David, we gotta go.
Uh, the escort's waiting.
Hey. Sorry.
I got totally, like, sucked in with this orgy of crap.
There's a simultaneous broadcast of Falcon Crest, Magnum P.I. and Charlie's Angels.
Okay. A perfect storm of shit.
I'll be out in a second, okay? Okay.
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Here, go in. Can you go around?
Yeah, yeah. Sure. Thanks.
You're wearing that?
For a radio interview? Uh, yes.
Hi. Dave. Dave Wallace.
I know who you are.
My amanuensis-- Mr. Boswell.
- Mr. Boswell. - Very clever. Hi.
Right this way.
We record digitally. I hope that's okay.
So just yes or no answers?
That's very funny. Hey.
What? Hey. You do a really mean job with this,
Yeah? I got, like, 20 years to get you back.
You remember that. You're gonna be fine.
My guest today is David Foster Wallace,
who has burst on the literary scene...
with his 1,079-page,
three-pound, three-ounce novel,
Infinite Jest.
Jay McInerney called it "something like a sleek Vonnegut chassis...
wrapped in layers of post-millennial Zola."
David Foster Wallace, welcome to our show.
Thank you. I'm glad to be here.
All right. Now, you have said you saw yourself as, quote,
"a combination of being incredibly shy and being an egomaniac too."
I believe I said "exhibitionist" also.
Meaning?
I think being shy basically means being self-absorbed...
to the extent that it makes it difficult to be around other people.
Difficult for you or difficult for the other people?
Ah. I suppose a little bit of both.
That was wonderful. Oh, yeah?
I listened to the whole show. It was so interesting. Thanks.
I may have to buy your book and read it.
- Uh, sorry about that. - Oh, no!
Wasn't he wonderful? He was wonderful.
Oh, my gosh. So, you have the rest of the day free.
Where would you like to go?
Yeah.
Do you know where the Mall of America is?
Yes, I do. Great.
Yes, I do. Yeah.
I wanted to write something that had the sort of texture...
of what American life is like now.
- This tsunami of stuff just comin' at you. - Right.
Also, it's not unfun, I don't think. No. I don't think so either.
No. Not at all. I mean, although it is, uh-- it is sort of heavy though.
Right? Weight-wise at least.
My friend said, when it hit his porch, it sounded like a car bomb going off.
Right. Exactly. And-- And who do you think your readers are?
Are they, uh-- Are they college kids?
The people who seem most enthusiastic are young men.
Which I guess I understand. It's a fairly male book.
It's a fairly nerdy book, too, about loneliness.
You also can expect that someone who's willing to read-- and read hard--
a thousand-page book is gonna be someone with some loneliness issues.
Right.
So, is that what you think the book is about then?
About loneliness?
I think that if there's a sort of sadness for people under 45,
it has something to do with pleasure and achievement and entertainment.
Like a sort of emptiness at the heart of what they thought was going on,
and maybe I can hope that some parts of the book...
speak to their nerve endings a little bit. Mm-hmm.
If you quote any of this, by the way, you'd do me a great favor by saying...
this is what I hope for the book, you know.
This is what the book is trying to achieve. I don't pretend that it has.
That's-- That's fine. Um--
So the Walter Kirn review in, uh, New York magazine. Did you--
I heard about it. I didn't read it. You didn't read it.
"Next year's book awards have been decided." How do you feel about that?
How do I feel about it? I applaud his taste and discernment.
What do you want me to say? How would you feel about it?
How would I feel?
That something that I had known was really good was now being validated by somebody else.
All I know is this is absolutely the best I could do between 1992 and 1995.
If everybody had hated it, I wouldn't have been thrilled.
I don't think I would have been devastated either.
When you're used to doing heavy-duty literary stuff that doesn't sell well,
being human animals with egos, you accommodate that fact by the following equation.
If something sells really well, gets a lot of attention,
it's gotta be shit, right? Right. Of course.
The ultimate irony is, if your thing starts selling well,
gets a lot of attention,
the very mechanism you used to shore yourself up...
when your thing didn't sell well-- Doesn't work anymore.
It's now part of the darkness nexus when it does, so you're totally screwed.
You know, you can't win.
I don't really see how they could've gotten lost. Right.
I mean, it's a straight shot. Yeah. Of course. Right, just past the food court.
Yeah. Through the amusement park. Through the first lobster.
Yeah. Don't go to the aquarium. Turn right.
Do not-- If you see fudge, you've gone too far.
Hey! Hello.
Aw. Hey!
- Hello. - It's good to see you.
Nice to see you. Thanks for driving up here.
Yes. You love it, I know it.
Nice to see you. Hello, Betsy. Great. How are you?
What's The Juror?
Oh, that's a Demi Moore, John Grisham movie. Yeah.
Happy Gilmore? No.
That's, uh, what? Adam Sandler.
Right. What about, uh, Broken Arrow?
It's a dumb boy movie. Stuff blows up. I've actually seen that.
You saw that already? I did actually.
Wow, a man after my own heart.
But I would be happy to see it again if you want to.
Nah. We can really see anything.
Oh, man.
No.
Yes.
It's fantastic.
- Horrible. - You have got to be kidding me.
That was the worst-- The end, when Travolta got impaled by the thing?
The worst movie I've ever seen. He-He saved humanity, Betsy.
No, he did not. Have a heart.
He made it worse. You've changed.
He made it worse. What do we do now?
Do you have a TV? Uh-huh. I do.
Oh, God. You know what I mean. Who knows? Okay.
I guess, you know. Oh, gotta hand you, that show the other day.
With Sandra Bernhard? Ah, Jesus Christ!
I know that guy actually.
Wh-Which one? The one playing Letterman.
Really? You do?
How? We went to Amherst together.
No. Yeah.
Was he a friend of yours?
I hated his guts so much.
Of course you did. Right.
Hey, wait. Does anyone want drinks or anything?
No. No? Okay.
- But, um, there's also beer in the fridge. - Soda's fine. Thank you.
- Why did you hate him? - Pretty simple recipe.
He was, like, very cool and popular. Mm-hmm.
And I was not. That was the basic offense. Look at him now.
Hey. Hey.
Ah, I brought you something.
You brought me something?
Yeah. What is this?
Oh, my God. This is the, uh--
This is the Review, where you have your poem in it.
Somewhere in there. That's amazing.
What's on next?
Algiers, starring Hedy Lamarr. Have you seen that?
Um, no. It's one of the greats. And Hedy Lamarr is fascinating.
She invented, uh-- She invented frequency hopping.
No, she didn't. Yeah.
I will. I definitely will.
Um--
Hey, I was wondering. When I get back to New York,
if I have any questions about what Dave was like in grad school or something,
can I e-mail you? Sure, if it's okay with Dave.
I'm sure it's fine with Dave.
That's great. So can I take your e-mail address then? Sure. Uh, yeah.
Oh, that'd be great. Thank you.
You could just write it on your book.
Thank you so much. Can you read that?
I can see that it is letters. But, no, I'll be fine. Thank you so much.
Sure.
- So, do you drink out of the tap? - Yes.
Okay, great.
What are you-- What are you doing?
What?
I saw you hitting on Betsy.
Hitting on-- I was-- I was talking to her.
David. I saw you.
You got her to give you her address.
No, no, no. I got her to give me her e-mail address.
In case I had questions about the piece that I am writing about you.
Really? Okay. Yeah, really.
Well, I'll tell you what. What?
I don't want her talking to you.
- I won't contact her. - Look--
I told you that Betsy and I dated during grad school.
The least-- Look at me. The least you could-- No, you're not.
The least you could do is show me the respect...
of not coming on to her right in front of me.
Dave, I'm sorry if it looked that way. That was not my intention.
And why would I want to get involved with somebody who lives in Saint Paul?
I don't know. You're already involved with somebody who lives in Los Angeles.
Okay.
Are you okay?
Yeah, everything's fine. Thank you.
Okay.
Stay away from her, okay?
Be a good guy.
What'd I miss?
Everything. Nothing. Everything? That seems like a gross exaggeration.
No. No! No!
No! No! No!
No!
9.50, please.
I got it. It's all right. My expense account will pay for it.
Yeah, so will mine. I said I got it.
Thank you.
Hey, um--
Good night.
Were you flirting? Sarah. Of course I was not flirting.
He just-- He went completely crazy on me.
Well, you do that, David, you know? You're not even aware of it.
Sorry, I do-- What do I do? You're compulsively flirtatious.
Okay. Well, now you're taking his side.
I am not. Yes, you are. Listen, I--
I think I'm just really tired, okay?
I gotta go.
David?
Good morning!
Hi. And how are we this morning?
Think I'll sit up front.
Oh. Okay. Let me just, um, move my stuff.
There you go.
Okay.
What?
You didn't think to write down where we parked the car?
No. I didn't. Okay?
Sorry. I fucked up. All right? I'm a fuckup.
Not everybody can be as brilliant as you.
What is with you? What the fuck is with you?
I gotta say, there's something...
basically false about your approach here.
What do you mean "false"? Yeah, I think it's, uh--
I think it's part of your whole social strategy.
In what way?
You still feel you're smarter than other people.
Oh, really? Yeah, yeah.
But you act like you're in a kids' softball game,
but holding back his power-hitting to try and make it more competitive...
for the little ones, you know?
When? Here. Now. The past three days.
It's part of your social strategy.
You're a tough room, you know that? It's so obvious,
the way you hold back your intelligence to be with people who are, uh,
younger than you or not as agile as you.
That would make me a real asshole, wouldn't it? Well.
I don't think writers are smarter than other people.
I think they may be more compelling in their stupidity.
Or in their confusion.
But I think one of the real ways I have gotten smarter...
is I don't think I'm that much smarter than other people.
That's right.
There are ways in which other people are a lot smarter than me.
And I gotta tell you, it--
It makes me feel kinda lonely. What?
There's been certain stuff I've told you that's been really true.
- I think it's been brave of me. - No, no, no. Absolutely.
I've written enough of these pieces to know...
you can write this up a hundred different ways. You're right.
Ninety of which I'm gonna come across as a monumental asshole.
And now it seems to me like your read on this is,
"Wow. What an interesting persona Dave is adopting...
- for the purposes of this interview." - No, that's not what I'm saying.
If we had done this by the mail, if I had access to my library, if I could look stuff up--
My dream for this would be for you to write it up, send it to me...
- and let me rewrite all my quotes. - Right.
Which, of course, you'll never do. But if I'm in a room...
by myself, alone, and I have time, I can be really smart.
Yes, I think I'm bright. I think I'm talented. I'm not trying to sound disingenuous--
- Oh, no? - I am not an idiot.
Yes, I can talk intelligently with you about stuff,
but I can't quite keep up with you.
- Okay. That is such bullshit. - Oh, believe me.
I am not doing some sorta like, "Aw, shucks.
I'm just in from the country. I'm not a real writer.
I'm a regular guy" thing. I'm not trying to lay some shit on you.
But you did it again though. You flatter me, but you're just patronizing.
I just think that to look across the room...
and to automatically assume that somebody is less aware...
or that their interior life is somehow less rich and complicated...
- and acutely perceived as mine, makes me not as good a writer. - Why?
Because it means I'm gonna be performing for some faceless audience...
instead of trying to have a conversation with a person.
If you think that's faux-- You know what? You think whatever you want.
I got a real, serious fear of being a certain way.
And a set, I think, of real convictions about why I'm continuing to do this.
Why it's worthwhile. Why it's not just an exercise in getting my dick sucked.
Okay.
- This is such a clever tactic on your part. - Tactic? What tactic?
That's right. Get me a little pissed off, get me a little less guarded--
I'm gonna reveal more. Yes, it's true.
- I treasure my regular guyness. - Mm-hmm.
I've come to think that maybe it's my biggest asset as a writer.
That I'm basically just like everybody else.
You know what? I'm not doing any kind of faux thing with you. And I'm not gonna say it again.
Okay. But that faux thing? What you just said is an example of the faux thing.
You're not willing to risk giving the full you.
I don't know if you're a very nice man or not.
It's very clear you don't believe a word that I've said.
All your protesting? You know-- I'm just a regular guy?
You don't crack open a thousand-page book...
because you heard the author is a regular guy.
You do it because he's brilliant, because you want him to be brilliant.
So, who the fuck are you kidding?
I don't have the brain cells left to play any kind of faux games with you.
Mm-hmm. It's fine. Yeah.
Yeah, it's fine.
What are you thinking?
Tour's over. Yeah. That just hit you.
Yeah. I'm gonna have to kinda feel all of this now,
instead of just sleepwalk through it.
What do you mean sleepwalking?
I've sort of unplugged myself the past three weeks.
Meeting a whole lot of new people and having to do stuff,
you're in this constant low-level state of anxiety.
This deep existential fear you feel all the way down in your butt hole.
What are you afraid of? I mean--
What's the worst that could possibly happen?
The worst? That I really get to like it. That's the worst.
The attention? Yeah.
What would be so wrong with that?
Become one of these hideous, like--
"Yet another publication party. Hey, there's Dave.
Stickin' his head in the back of the photo."
- Rather be dead. - Why?
I don't wanna be seen that way. Why, would you?
Well, if you're deriving your satisfaction from talking about your work...
instead of actually writing, then yeah.
I mean, I guess you'd get a lot less done.
Exactly. There's nothing more grotesque than somebody going around saying,
"I'm a writer. I'm a writer. I'm a writer."
I don't mind appearing in Rolling Stone.
I don't want to appear in Rolling Stone...
as somebody who wants to be in Rolling Stone.
If you see me on a game show in the next couple of years, I swear to God--
To have written a book about how seductive image is,
how easy it is to get seduced off of any meaningful path...
because of the way our culture is now--
What if I become a parody of that very thing?
You know, tomorrow, you drive away.
And you get on a plane, and this whole thing is over.
I go back to knowing, like, 20 people.
I'm gonna have to decompress from all this attention, because it's like gettin'--
it's like gettin' heroin injected into your cortex.
And where I'm gonna need real balls, is to...
sit and go through that.
And try to remind myself of what the reality is--
that I'm 34 years old and I'm alone in a room with a piece of paper.
Hey. Here ya go.
I'll never leave you again. I swear.
All right. Shit check.
Look what you did.
A little excremental work. Looks like we won't need this anymore, huh?
It's all right. It happens to the best of us. Huh, boy?
Never fails.
They wait to do their thing until after the dog sitter leaves.
Make sure your Rolling Stone readers hear about that.
Hey, so I'm-I'm leaving tomorrow and, uh--
I gotta ask you about this rumor.
Is this the heroin thing? Yeah.
This is the heroin thing again? Yeah.
It isn't true. What is so hard for you to believe?
The reason it is so hard to believe is because there is so much...
about drugs and addiction in the book.
That doesn't mean that it's autobiographical.
The book stuff is meant to be a metaphor. What is--
You don't believe a fuckin' word that I've said, do you?
I didn't say that.
I was not-- I never was a heroin addict.
Okay. The rumor I heard was that in the late '80s, when you were at Harvard,
you got involved with drugs, and you had some kind of breakdown.
I don't know if--
I don't know if I had a breakdown. I got very, very depressed.
I told you that. It had nothing to do with drugs.
I have spent most of my life in libraries. I never lived that dangerous kind of life.
And I would never stick a needle into my arm--
- Okay, so how do you think that rumor got started? - I have no ide--
- I have no idea. - All right. All right. Calm down.
And I'm telling you, if you were to structure this as some sort of like,
"and then he spiraled into terrible addiction" sort of thing,
it would be inaccurate.
It was much more that I got more and more unhappy.
The more unhappy I got, the more I would drink.
There was no joy in that drinking. I used it for anesthesia.
Okay? Okay. What kind of drinker were you?
Were you a kind of falling-down drinker? Were you a "waking up in the curb" drinker?
No, I was not. Okay? All right.
A part of my reticence about this whole thing...
is that it won't make very good copy for you.
Because, no, I was not like that at all.
You did agree to this interview. I know that I did.
All right. I'm not gonna push much further. Sorry.
I am also aware that some addictions are sexier than others.
My primary addiction my entire life has been to television.
I told you that. Now television addiction...
is of far less interest to your readers than something like heroin...
that confirms the mythos of the writer.
Yeah, a myth I do not believe. Okay? Right. No.
I know you don't believe that. I'm also aware that one of the things...
that's swirlin' around here is you want to have the best fuckin' article you can have.
See, you know what? Why don't you write whatever the fuck you want.
I am telling you that this was not a Lost Weekend sort of thing.
Nor was it some lurid, romantic,
"writer as alcoholic" sort of thing.
What it was, was a 28-year-old person...
who had really exhausted a couple other ways to live,
had really taken them to their conclusion.
Which for me was a pink room with a drain in the center of the floor,
which is where they put me for an entire day when they thought that I was gonna kill myself.
Where I got nothin' on. I got someone observing me through a slot in the wall.
And when that happens to you, you become tremendously,
just unprecedentedly willing...
to examine some other alternatives for how to live.
You awake?
Yeah.
I was just thinking, um--
It wasn't a chemical imbalance, and it wasn't drugs and alcohol.
I think, um--
It was much more that I had lived an incredibly American life.
This idea that if I could just achieve X and Y and Z, that everything would be okay.
There's a thing in the book about how when somebody leaps from a burning skyscraper,
it's not that they're not afraid of falling anymore.
It's that the alternative is so awful.
And so then you're invited to consider what could be so awful...
that leaping to your death would seem like an escape from it.
I don't know if you have any experience with this kind of thing.
But it's worse than any kind of physical injury.
It may be in the old days what was known as a spiritual crisis--
feeling as though every axiom in your life turned out to be false...
and there was actually nothing.
And that you were nothing.
And that it's all a delusion and you're so much better than everybody...
'cause you can see how this is just a delusion,
and you're so much worse because you can't fucking function.
It's really horrible.
I don't think that we ever change.
I'm sure that I still have those same parts of me.
Guess I'm trying really hard to find a way not to let them drive.
You know?
Hey, um, okay. Good night.
Hi.
Okay. Hi.
Hey. Good morning. Good morning.
Mornin', man.
Come on, boys. Let's go. Good boys.
Come on. What are you doing?
Jeeves!
Jeeves, come on, boy.
You get instantaneous production from the Jeeve-meister. Drone's a much tougher nut.
- It is so beautiful out here. - Yeah.
You should see it in the spring when the wind blows.
You can see ripples. It's like water.
- It's like the ocean, but real green. - Mmm.
It really is.
It's kind of calm. Real pretty.
You hungry? Uh, yeah. Kind of.
But, um-- God, I don't think I want to go back.
Yeah, I know how you feel.
Should probably get going though. Okay.
Hey, let me take you someplace nice this time. It'll be on Jann.
Thanks for holding the bag, man. Of course.
I gotta eat something. I'm, like, suddenly starving. Mmm.
You don't like pickles. Oh, come on.
What? What, the whole world needs to know...
what my mother's known for years-- I'm a picky eater?
Okay, I'm putting it away. Thank you.
All right.
Can I give 'em a fry?
No. Come on.
All right, go for it. Hey, Jeeve-meister.
Hey!
Watch this. What?
Jeeves. Jeeves. Sit.
Jeeves, sit. Sit.
Perfect.
Sit. God. Drone gets super obedient when food is around.
Jeeves is still kind of a wild man.
Do not leave food out around him. He will go for it.
Good boy.
You're such a good--
You're not gonna make me look like I'm one of those insane old women...
who talks to their dogs, are you? Um, no.
Don't worry about it.
I am worried about it. My dogs are gonna be offended.
The dogs are not gonna read this article.
I gotta tell you. Hmm?
They've never taken to a man the way they've taken to you.
Really? Nah.
Except me, of course. Yeah. Yeah.
Oh. Can you hold this?
Yeah, of course.
Hello?
Hey.
Yes, I would like to, um--
I can't right now. I got this guy here.
What guy?
Rolling Stone guy, yeah.
You know, can I just meet you there?
Okay. Great. Yeah, perfect.
I'll see you then. Bye.
All right. Well, I should--
I should probably get out of here, let you get on with your life.
That's, no-- It's-- There's just this dance that I like to go to.
Sorry. You dance?
Yeah.
It's something I've discovered over the past couple years I really like.
Although I'm not that good at it yet.
Wait, sorry. What kind of dancing?
I tend to do, like, the jerk, the swim.
You know, like, cheesy '70s disco.
Really? Yeah. It's one of the things about living in Bloomington.
It's like a time warp. You're completely hip if you do that.
Yeah, right. So, where do you go? To a club?
I go to this Baptist church.
Why-- Why do you go there?
Baptists can dance.
Wow. Dancing.
I will not vogue.
That is where I put my foot down. I do not vogue.
Yeah. It's really cool though. Like a lot of people show up.
And they got their dancin' shoes on.
It's good. It's nice. Everyone for the most part just leaves each other alone.
I thought it might be nice before you go, if--
uh, maybe we could exchange address data or something?
Yeah. Absolutely.
Yeah. I'll get my stuff together. Great.
I'll start carving an ice sculpture out of my car. It's like Antarctica out there.
Uh, dog stuff. Throw toys. Chew toys. Crap stains on carpet.
Uh, fireplace. American flag. Shark doll on bookcase.
Alanis poster. Uh, soda cans.
Lots of them. There's Pepsi. There's Mountain Dew.
Um, looks like a frat. A kind of bookish frat.
Uh, there's a Botticelli calendar-- Birth of Venus.
Uh, wooden chess set. Postcard of Updike.
Um, brain comparison-- male, female, dog. Cartoon.
In the bedroom, there is a Barney towel used as a curtain.
There is a tennis ball. There's a dental floss on top of books.
There's a photo collage of his family, the kind kids put in their dorm rooms.
His sister is kind of pretty. She looks like a female version of him.
There is, uh, stuff everywhere. Clothes everywhere. Sneakers on the floor.
Clothes draped over stuff.
Uh--
Blue toilet-seat cover, looks like a rug.
Postcards. Clintons, um, baboons.
A Saint Ignatius quote.
"Lord, teach me to be generous. Teach me to serve you as you deserve.
To give and not to count the cost. To toil and not to seek for rest.
To labor and not to ask for reward...
save that of knowing that I do your will."
Hey.
Tell you what. Riding around in that rental of yours.
That feeling of gliding? This thing doesn't even have shock absorbers.
What-- What is it?
It's just an old Civic.
I know it doesn't look like much. But, man, this thing starts.
It's actually a problem. Why is that a problem?
I gotta get a new one, but I can't junk this. Why not?
It's my friend.
Ah.
Hey, David. I, uh--
Wow. Just happened to have one on you, huh?
Yeah. I mean, I-- I did debate whether or not I should do this.
Why? I don't know.
Don't you think it's some kind of kid-brother sort of thing to do?
No. Thank you. I look forward to reading this.
Oh, you're welcome. I put my address and e-mail on the flyleaf.
Oh. Okay. Cool.
I'll, uh-- Yeah, I'll read it after I finish the Heinlein, and I'll send you a note.
That's great. Thanks.
Be interesting to be inside your head for a while.
I like your cover. Yeah. Yeah, me too.
I actually had them use the same art for the British edition.
Come on. You got approval, and I d--
It's nice. It's very nice.
Don't worry about it. It was not such a-- not such a big success.
Hey, isn't it at all reassuring to have a lot of people read you...
and, you know, say that you're a really strong writer?
It'll be interesting to talk to you in a few years.
Why do you say that?
My experience is that that is not so.
The more people think you're really great,
actually the bigger the fear of being a fraud is, you know?
The worst thing about getting a lot of attention paid to you...
is that you're afraid of bad attention.
And if bad attention hurts you,
the caliber of the weapon pointing at you has gone way up.
Like from a .22 to a .45. Mmm.
Look, there are parts of me that want a lot of attention and think I'm really great...
and want other people to see it.
I think that's one of the ways you and I are sort of alike, you know?
All right. Hey, uh-- All right.
Fuck. David.
I'm not so sure you want to be me.
I don't.
Give my best to Jann.
"When I think of this trip,
I see David and me in the front seat of his car.
We are both so young.
He wants something better than he has.
I want precisely what he has already.
Neither of us knows where our lives are going to go.
It smells like chewing tobacco,
soda and smoke.
And the conversation is the best one I ever had.
David thought books existed to stop you from feeling lonely.
If I could, I'd say to David that living those days with him...
reminded me of what life is like,
instead of being a relief from it.
And I'd tell him it made me feel much less alone."
I need to use your bathroom for a second.
I believe it's unoccupied.
It's me talkin' into the tape recorder.
And Drone's sittin' behind me just chillin' out.
I'm smoking. Having just said I wouldn't smoke, I'm smoking.
Just me and your tape recorder.
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