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Have you read the David Foster Wallace thing in the New Yorker? It is really good; also, heartbreaking. His wife’s name is Karen Green, and she has been through some shit, let me tell you. So I am already feeling super-trivial as I prepare to tell you that this is the detail that stuck out most in my mind:

Wallace put a strikeout through [his ex-girlfriend] Mary’s name on his tattoo and an asterisk under the heart; farther down he added another asterisk and Karen’s name, turning his arm into a living footnote.