All this business about people committing suicide when they’re “severely depressed;” we say, “Holy cow, we must do something to stop them from killing themselves!” That’s wrong. Because all these people have, you see, by this time already killed themselves, where it really counts…. When they “commit suicide,” they’re just being orderly.

Talked with Mark just two days ago about how we still can’t get over DFW’s death. Nothing dramatic, it’s just not recognizing or understanding it, forgetting it’s happened then remembering. I feel somewhat better knowing somewhat why; Mark thinks it’s no comfort. But reading things like the above story excerpt, excepted in Rolling Stone’s upcoming profile, I think I’ve come to a tacit agreement with his suicide. And I’m so much more thankful that he took the time to come to the U of A and read, and to accept my rushed, shiny “Thank you for reading!” with such a kind smile.

I desperately wish he had agreed to the interview for the school paper.

The Lost Years & Last Days of David Foster Wallace: Rolling Stone.