The older I get the more I truly believe ignorance is bliss, especially if you’re the type to put heroes on a pedestal. I am that type and while the crumbling of the pedestal is a painful process, the knowledge that your heroes are really people with actual human failures is oddly comforting, after you get over the disappointment.

Reading D.T. Max’s Every Love Story Is a Ghost Story: A Life of David Foster Wallace turned me into a twenty-year-old with a crush.

At first I was eagerly eating up every detail Max dished out in his very matter-of-fact completely devoid of emotion way. I would celebrate every connection I could find between me and DFW. He likes gin & tonics! I love gin & tonics! He likes to eat Nutter Butters. I love Nutter Butters!

It was ridiculous. And then like a twentysomething with a crush who finds her affection not returned things started to rot.
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