She told me to sit down before telling me yesterday upon my return from the beach that David Foster Wallace hanged himself. I didn't sit down but I did run to her kitchen and sob for several minutes, which is strange because the only other people in the living room were her and my husband and you'd think I could've cried in front of them. Jeez. I'm a sap and a doof, among other things.
Good and probably relevant reading on manic-depressive illness I mean bipolar disorder: An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison, a professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins who has been studying as well as suffering from this disorder for years and years.
I guess I'm not using a lot of commas in honor of DFW or something. Anyway. Man. Working now, not thinking about this very much.