With the lights out, it's less dangerous; here we are now, entertain us.

I believe there's more to it than just the obvious fact that they share the spirit of the '90s that I find a cord between Nirvana and Infinite Jest. Allow me to meditate on this mutant seedling of an idea just a moment.

Maybe my imagination is dangerously wild, or maybe I'm unknowingly immersed in some Jungian collective consciousness, but considering the sentiment on the delights of reading that DFW (which I want to pronounce "dee eff dub," as if he were a dear old pal, since we find ourselves with him so often lately) expresses in the Charlie Rose interview, which is that it makes him say, "Good lord, I’m really stretching myself, I’m really having to think and process and feel in ways I don’t normally feel," I think the Man Himself would encourage this feral breed of thought. (How's that for an infinite sentence? Perhaps I should have taken a cue and used footnotes.) It's that sentiment that makes me feel as though I would have his support in these wanderings, even if they make no sense, so here they are, uncensored.

Now what could it possibly be that I think Cobain and Wallace have in common (other than the sadly obvious)? I think much of their harmony lies in their equally bold expressions of the human condition (to be sure, something they were both personally troubled about). Said condition, whatever it is, they seem to agree is one in which things are easier to swallow with the lights out, or sitting on the couch watching TV, lighting up, heaven forbid sticking a needle in your arm, hypnotizing oneself into a trance (be it on the court with racquet or on stage with a guitar--both "sticks," after all, to quote the novel). All of these activities, these things we do to distract ourselves from whatever it is that is painful or trying to us as humans, fall nicely under the category Entertainment. Which is one thing (perhaps the thing) in IJ that is undoubtedly present. Ubiquitous, in fact, and explicitly touched upon by the author when asked, "What is this?!" (this being IJ). So here, if not elsewhere, is where my imagination touches upon a relevant and trustworthy theme, which is: Entertainment as escapism.

Admittedly, my interpretation of Cobain could very well be legions more profound than his actual intentions (truly, did he mean for the lyrics to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" to mean something, or are they just syllables taking up the right amount of space? oh well, whatever, nevermind). As for DFdub, who we can be absolutely sure must have something holy to say in these 1,079 pages, what is his message about Entertainment? Is Entertainment good, is it bad, is it scary, is it fun, is it useful and intelligent, might it be harmful, and if harmful, is it intrinsically so, or are we the culprits for indulging too much? What about books? Are they Entertainment? (Well yeah!) How about losing oneself in a book, is that escapism? Is escapism ever desirable and wise? To what degree? It appears that according to DFdub, a book requires too much of its reader (i.e., active and creative thought) for it to be a shady escape. But not all books are created equal, just as movies and TV shows are not. There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of clarity or a simple solution to satisfy these doubts (a task which, I imagine, would require a very lengthy exploration of about 1,079 pages, give or take). Another hypothesis I can't help noticing in the book is whether tennis (see: sports) is Entertainment and thus a form of escapism. For example:

"Here is how to avoid thinking about any of this [i.e., doubts about one's father and one's talent, or probably doubts about anything at all] by practicing and playing until everything runs on autopilot and talent's unconscious exercise becomes a way to escape yourself, a long waking dream of pure play" (173).

Sounds a bit like getting high. But with skill and talent and effort. So should we consider things like tennis an acceptable escape if they require talent, whereas drugs are nothing but a nasty cheap vice? Are some things we consider pleasant, healthy, or applaudable actually detrimental in large doses? Or small doses even? Moderation in all things would perhaps be a suitable mantra, if one were to begin to try to answer these questions in just one short lifetime.

I may be only 200 pages (give a little) into this tome, but for now my wandering imagination tells me our friend the Author's hope is for us to revolutionize the way we interact with our world; the ways we seek pleasure, escape, knowledge, love... etc. And not by becoming revolutionaries; no, on the contrary, finding the anti-rebel (see "E Unibus Pluram") in us by embracing the simpler things: the single entendre (although I thought it was fun for a day to consider how the triple entendre was like a revolutionary single entendre), and to kick the irony habit. Figuratively, of course. Or literally, in some cases, as we discussed on the first day of class when I still thought it was somehow poignant to turn down Oprah's Book Club. Anyway, I think it's safe to say for now that she's afraid to consider IJ--it could very well consume 6 hours a day for days on end. And then who would have any time for TV?

(After all this speculation, Chloe, I feel compelled to say that Infinite Jest may be nothing more than a fictional version of Andrew Weil's The Natural Mind. Which, importantly, I consider a bible despite its much smaller size and ostensibly less humble author.)