I watched End of the Tour last night, the movie about David Foster Wallace and this other guy named David who works for Rolling Stone and interviews him. It was free on Amazon for some reason. It made me want to kill myself. Part of it has to do with me not being David Foster Wallace and another part of it probably has to do with me feeling some of the same things David Foster Wallace felt.
I understand that we can’t all be David Foster Wallace. Only one person can be him and he died because he killed himself. That tells you a lot about how David Foster Wallace felt about being himself. He even tells the other David at the end of the movie that he’s not sure if that David should want to be him.
David Foster Wallace was very well educated. I am not so much so. But I am here like he was, in front of this page, alone. It would be nice to kill myself, like he did, but like him, I as well am afraid that I would bung it up. I would like to go on tour though. I don’t think Musette would like that very much. She wouldn’t like me being away from her. I would like not to work, but he had to work, or at least he did work, as a literary professor. Like I said, he was very well educated, and like I said, I am not. I don’t think that I could get a job as a literary professor. I am afraid of the jobs that I will have to work in my life. All of the jobs that he said he had that were horrible jobs are the jobs that I see ahead of me, behind me and currently with me. Part of this is why I want to kill myself. There are other reasons that I want to kill myself though. I don’t think that I’m going to do it. I just have this sort of itch. Like when I get frustrated, I will bang my head against the wall or punch myself in the gut. I think that this is the same urge that those who kill themselves often feel. Self-harming escapism.
I am banging my head against a wall mentally. The next step is banging my head against a wall physically, or grabbing a belt and pulling it tight around my neck, catching it in a door maybe and leaning forward while jacking off. I think that many people who have read my words would see that as an appropriate way for me to go. New York’s number one chronic masturbator cumming to his end. People would probably like that well enough. So maybe it would be worth it. A little something to laugh at. One last wink to comedy. A comedic relief.