is there any part of my inner monologue that you didn’t parse through in your own, far more wrinkled brain and spit out (extemporaneously!) with more eloquence and brevity than i could ever hope to muster? just look what you’ve gone and said now:

    i think this is a time when we’re terribly afraid of one another, and there seem to be very few venues for talking about it.

please come back. i know we never met, but i really miss you.

2 thoughts on “dear david foster wallace,

  1. I’m fairly certain that we are destined to be friends if not for the Paste connection or the strange occurence of the planets aligning our paths to Seoul, then, obviously, for the shared admiration, and borderline worship, of the words of David Foster Wallace.

    Anyhow, my name is Chelsea and I think we should shoot the shit or maybe not shoot the shit, but at least have a drink sometime in the very near future. Talk soon and stay gold.

    • alas, chelsea, i live in busan! i do hope to make another trip to seoul in the relatively near future, and if i do, i will most definitely look you up. if you ever need a place to crash in busan, consider my home open to you.

      p.s. – i dig your blog.

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