David Foster Wallace | Infinite Jest | 1996

Dear Madame Psychosis,

The night is not the same without your voice on the airwaves. Your disquisitions on the esoteric and the intangibles of life were the shimmering payoff for a day cluttered with radio spots selling unflinching car financing and cheap, mismatched mattresses. Your slot has fallen on hard times since you left, but you probably knew that already. A friend of mine taped your hour most nights, luckily. On weekends we put them on and listen. We listen and we listen until the moon is low again and meaning's been smashed out of us. When I wake up on the couch with my shoes still on and the sunlight creeping into the room, your voice is still in my head, lulling me to a place that's fleeting, thin as air. Some things are better the second time around.

A fan,
Dylan Brown