Word Inflation: Good. Greater. Greatest. Totally great.

Word inflation. That’s a phrase David Foster Wallace uses in Infinite Jest. I’m now 100 pages into the beast and came across two excellent passages. I’ve learned that even if I can’t grasp the novel at a macro level, I can still revel in the micro.

Here’s a passage about Jim Struck after an exhausting day of tennis:

"My bones are ringing the way sometimes people say their ears are ringing, I’m so tired."

"I’m waiting til the last possible second to even breathe. I’m not expanding the cage till driven by necessity of air."

"So tired it’s out of tired‘s word-range," Pemulis says. "Tired just doesn’t do it."

"Exhausted, shot, depleted," says Jim Struck, grinding at his closed eye with the heel of his hand. "Cashed. Totalled."

"Look." Pemulis pointing at Struck. "It’s trying to think."

"A moving thing to see."

"Beat. Worn the heck out."

"Worn the fuck-all out is more like."

"Wrung dry. Whacked. Tuckered out. More dead than alive."

"None even come close, the words."

"Word-inflation," Stice says, rubbing at his crewcut so his forehead wrinkles and clears. "Bigger and better. Good greater greatest totally great. Hyperbolic and hyperbolicker. Like grade inflation."


And here’s Wallace describing, in passing, the sensation of seeing somebody’s feet under public bathroom stall doors:

Something humble, placid even, about inert feet under stall doors. The defecatory posture is an accepting posture, it occurs to him. Head down, elbows on knees, the fingers laced together between the knees. Some hunched timeless millennial type of waiting, almost religious. Luther’s shoes on the floor beneath the chamber pot, placid, possibly made of wood, Luther’s 16th century shoes, awaiting epiphany. The mute quiescent suffering of generations of salesmen in the stalls of train-station johns, heads down, fingers laced, shined shoes inert, awaiting the acid gush. Women’s slippers, centurions’ dusty sandals, dock-workers’ hobnailed boots, Popes’ slippers. All waiting, pointing straight ahead, slightly tapping.


Here are other wisdom nuggets or cool phrases I’ve come across in my 100 pages:

  • "There is something vaguely digestive about the room’s odor."
  • "Like a stick of butter being hit with a mallet."
  • "He didn’t reject the idea so much as not react to it and watch as it floated away."
  • "Mario, you and I are mysterious to each other. We countenance each other from either side of some unbridgeable difference on this issue. Let’s lie very quietly and ponder this."
  • "Hal likes to get high in secret, but a bigger secret is that he’s as attached to the secrecy as he is to getting high."
  • "Mario’s thinking-hard expression resembles what for another person would be the sort of comically distorted face made to amuse an infant."
  • "Schitt then falls into the sort of silence of someone who’s enjoying mentally rewinding and replaying what he just came up with."

How to Be a Better Writer

Scott Adams, of Dilbert fame, is hilarious. He is also wise. Yesterday on his blog he divulged 80% of the rules for good business writing. Here are his tips:

  • The main technique is keeping things simple. Simple writing is persuasive. A good argument in five sentences will sway more people than a brilliant argument in a hundred sentences. Don’t fight it.
  • Simple means getting rid of extra words. Don’t write, “He was very happy” when you can write “He was happy.” You think the word “very” adds something. It doesn’t. Prune your sentences.
  • Humor writing is a lot like business writing. It needs to be simple. The main difference is in the choice of words. For humor, don’t say “drink” when you can say “swill.”
  • Write short sentences. Avoid putting multiple thoughts in one sentence. Readers aren’t as smart as you’d think.

Here are 50 more tips for good writing.

One thing I’m thinking more about is humor writing. It’s hard to write humorously about serious topics.

Quotes of the Day

Three assorted quotes.

The first is from Caitlin Flanagan, a wonderfully zesty writer, who takes on MySpace and online predators in the latest Atlantic Monthly (subscribers only). Unlike so many failed attempts to capture this phenomenon, Flanagan opines with originality and humor.

With the Internet, children are marching out into the world every second of every day. They’re sitting in their bedrooms—wearing their retainers, topped up with multivitamins, radiating the good care and safekeeping that is their lot in life in America at the beginning of the new century—and they’re posting photographs of themselves, typing private sentiments, unthinkingly laying down a trail of bread crumbs leading straight to their dance recitals and Six Flags trips and Justin Timberlake concerts, places where anyone with an interest in retainer-wearing 13-year-olds is free to follow them.

A great sentence. And here she is after describing the elite private girls school of Jenna in Los Angeles:

The current resurgence of girls’ schools like Jenna’s is based on the idea that to become strong and powerful, girls need an environment in which they are protected from the various energies and appetites of adolescent boys. Free of the sexually charged atmosphere that will always pervade coed high schools, they can emerge and evolve in ways they never could in the presence of ogling, domineering boys. What contemporary parents of daughters—among them some of the most liberal-minded—have come to believe is not so different from what 19th-century parents believed: The sexual unfolding of a young girl is such a fraught process emotionally as well as physically that she needs to be carefully sheltered from the myriad forces that would seek to exploit or coarsen her as she reconciles the girl that she was with her biological destiny. That Jenna’s parents would pour such a river of cash into her school tuition to grant her that safe and gentle place, and that—at the cost of not one cent—she would have created a MySpace page so dangerously revealing (in every sense of the word) is a terrific irony.


George Will on one of the biggest questions in political philosophy:

Is liberty valuable because it promotes virtuous behavior? Or is liberty merely necessary because, given that there are deep disagreements about what virtuous behavior is, we must agree to leave one another a lot of social space to do as we please, or we shall not have social peace?


Tom Brokaw in his commencement address at Skidmore College:

You’ve been told during your high school years and your college years that you are now about to enter the real world, and you’ve been wondering what it’s like. Let me tell you that the real world is not college. The real world is not high school. The real world, it turns out, is much more like junior high. You are going to encounter, for the rest of your life, the same petty jealousies, the same irrational juvenile behavior, the same uncertainty that you encountered during your adolescent years. That is your burden. We all share it with you. We wish you well.

Interesting Sentence of the Day

The writing geek in me was fascinated by this opening sentence / paragraph to a short fiction piece by George Saunders in a recent New Yorker. Talk about being unconventional.

Twice already Marie had pointed out the brilliance of the autumnal sun on the perfect field of corn, because the brilliance of the autumnal sun on the perfect field of corn put her in mind of a haunted house — not a haunted house she had ever actually seen but the mythical one that sometimes appeared in her mind (with adjacent graveyard and cat on a fence) whenever she saw the brilliance of the autumnal sun on the perfect etc. etc., and she wanted to make sure that, if the kids had a corresponding mythical haunted house that appeared in their minds whenever they saw the brilliance of the etc. etc., it would come up now, so that they could all experience it together, like friends, like college friends on a road trip, sans pot, ha ha ha!

The Best Sentence I Read Today: Jobs on iTunes

In my never-ending quest for awesome images / metaphors / similes / sentences, I came across this gem:

It’s like giving a glass of ice water to somebody in hell.

– Steve Jobs on why Windows users love iTunes’ jukebox software so much.

From Scott Rosenberg’s excellent recap of the Gates / Jobs conversation at the D conference today.