Crazy genius author (and Pomona professor)
David Foster Wallace killed himself on Friday. I want to make a mean joke about a suicide note with lots of footnotes, but the whole thing bothers me a lot. I strongly dislike it when people who are incisively introspective and terrifyingly smart are unable to handle that which they discover.
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Damn. It's so sad.
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I'm sad to say that I've never read any of his writing. Perhaps I'll need to add Infinite Jest to my list.
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“He was being very heavily medicated,” he said. “He’d been in the hospital a couple of times over the summer and had undergone electro-convulsive therapy. Everything had been tried, and he just couldn’t stand it anymore.” http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/15/books/15wallace.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin
So the answer seems to be: severe depression. Fun fact about depression: it's a fatal disease for a double-digit percentage of its sufferers.
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