The letter i wrote DFW while he was still alive

my brother described you as transcendent and threw in another word and wrapped them both in a sentence that made transcendence sound like something gold colored and floaty even more so than it already does and yet still here all temporally and fleeting and what not which also made it even better. I want to write you and like be friends for coffee or something but really just for some other weirder reasons that have to do with loneliness and personality disorders. He is eighteen and he has read further into IJ before quitting than I have. He also has some cheater Wiki facts about you and the books plot. “Things like IJ do not have something stupid and slow like a plot.” I tell him and he agrees in a way that makes me wrong and it surprises us both. Also I never refer to it as IJ I just do not want to write out Infinite Jest. And those facts are thrown so quick I can’t forbid him to throw fucking cheater facts and then I know them and its good and it sucks cause it can’t be toggled off and the whole game is ruined now cause of some shit about fractals and junior college creative writing bullshit and anyway.. And I hope you know this is not some bullshit in the box because it is out of the box way to get you to read something of mine cause its just a letter and its how I think and stuff. And we talked today about loneliness and why we over simplify god and give him shitty intentions and why we are somehow outside of culture or at least enjoyment of it. And he thinks everyone is a douche bag and I tell him that is a good sign and we are sitting in Tommys eating shit food and volleying angst and you come up in most of our conversations and you’re the greatest person that has ever lived and that gives us hope cause you’re here and your out there you know with your writing and stuff and you are accessible through that and if the world could shit you out and we’re here than maybe some day my brother will meet someone that will take away the loneliness and we laugh about what it would be like to talk about writing and stuff with you and it would take a while to get past say how the Graven Image thing was just brilliant and the tripod in the bushes and the paranoid king which we both try to make posters of and he pays some online comic guy 20 to do a comic of you on a desert island and he does it and it is funny and it is sad for a bunch of reasons and I try and help you escape the caricature of your self in my mind but even this letter assumes in the way I hate being assumed about and so its stuck being crazy and who cares any way it will bleach in the mail. And Michael does this thing that’s so funny that I never call him on where he has like 9 or twelve books planned out and their names and stuff and he is working on them but they are really just titles of books and its great and we talk about them and about ideas and things. And I was thinking about writing what I would say to you if we met but that’s all shit. Tennis balls can find shit wrong with one another and that’s just the way it is. I just appreciate the hell out of you and I am one of those fucks that can’t finish IJ and yet it is my favorite book. I did some videos on you tube about it and deleted them all cause they were stupid. I told Michael to put himself out there and life wouldn’t suck so much and that is a lie kind of. He used to be scared of falling into the sky when he was a kid (until like two years ago) and I think I had something to do with that. He spells ok the right way. I used to think he was addicted to the internet. So certain people suck and we are all scary. And your great with words and that is like a real positive thing in our minds. You used up a lot of good word combinations and that kind of sucks but I would of never of thought of them so its cool! I pretty much am a consumer. That sucks cause I am also a brooder and have other issues so there is over eating and rage and shit that makes for good fantasy fiction. I just was imagining having a friend and you would be cool. My other friend smokes a bunch of pot and believes in shit like ufo’s and cover-ups and Mayan calendar stuff and it makes me sad cause he was pretty clear headed in his teens. In my Lotto dream my family all has to live together in a house and I have my own house next door or am always away in some other location just for me, like Dolores, CO or on a greyhound headed to Alaska but I don’t have those places anymore. There all changed and every one grew old and shit and now they just suck and feel lonely. I keep thinking I can find some new hiding place like school or work but it doesn’t gel and I keep pushing this fucking thing forward like a wall or something but it takes all my attention to move it and when I am not paying attention and even when I am it starts goin backwards and shit but not like its gonna crush me like danger, it just goes back to zero and at zero I am homeless again. I used to be able to write at work but I have to work more now and so I don’t get to write or I squeeze in words between phone calls. It would be great if I had to show up to work to write and had to sit there and shit while everyone was working but I had to write and not answer phones and write down credit cards all day. This is too long. Your cool. So is my brother. I understand why you don’t have a web presence. Peace.