September 4, 2009

Page 902

I lay in my tight little sarcophagus of space.  The horizontality piled up all around me.  I was the meat in the room's sandwich.  I felt awakened to a basic dimension I'd neglected during years of upright movement, of standing and running and stopping and jumping, of walking endlessly upright from one side of the court to the other.  I had understood myself for years as basically vertical, an odd forked stalk of stuff and blood.  I felt denser now; I felt more solidly composed, now that I was horizontal.  I was impossible to knock down. 

Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace

No comments: