This is sad news indeed. David Foster Wallace was one of my favorite writers. I never made it through Infinite Jest, but loved his essays – on television, cruise ships, and tennis (I, II and III) – with incredible humor, deep knowledge of many an arcane subject and limitless playfulness with language. Side sentences with parentheses with footnotes with footnotes, yet all of it making sublime sense.

And then he goes and hangs himself. What a loss, and what a waste.

(Via Paul Kedrosky.)