Yesterday I bought "The Pale King", i.e. the unfinished book by David Foster Wallace, an author whom I'm gradually discovering more and more to be absolutely astonishing. And today, Bret Easton Ellis soiled himself publicly:

To the best of my abilities, I've found Ellis to be extremely bitter of late. In a quite recent interview with The Paris Review, to me, he seemed to be a bitter, bitter recluse. Ironically, before Foster Wallace killed himself he seemed a lot more healthy ((Despite being depressed and having stopped taking his anti-depressants.)) in both the interviews I've read with him and judging from a lot of what his friend and colleague Jonathan Franzen wrote about him and his death in his recent collection of essays, titelled "Farther Away: Essays", than Ellis has recently seemed.

_A bit of Wallace's writing from "_The Pale King".