Status Updates From Infinite Jest

the figure a man in a wheelchair, in a coat and tie, his lap blanketed and no legs below, his wellfed face artistically reddened with some terrible joy, his smile’s arc of the extreme curvature that exists between mirth and fury, his ecstasy terrible to see, his head hairless and plastic and cast back, his eyes on the blue harlequin-patches of the post-storm sky, looking straight up, or having a seizure, or ecstatic