I may have inadvertently struck upon my writing ideal — the ideal state in which to write– which is to bring oneself first to the point of actually crying with boredom. This is the state one needs to be in, weeping, blubbering with the tedium one has faced and has yet to face; perhaps there is a universal application.
The idea of dealing with, as opposed to alleviating boredom, has been inherent to Modernism from the start, I think, but most recently and forcefully appeared in Wallace’s novels –there, almost as an ethic.
Infinite Jest shows how trying to alleviate boredom –through distraction– if taken to its logical end, must result in boredom of another sort — in addiction. While the posthumous novel (its name not arising just now) shows the heroism involved in superhuman focus upon the tedious. Not a winking and nodding involvement but a wholehearted plunge into the dull, an acknowledgement of the deep seriousness of dull things….
Boredom is seeming death while distraction is the real thing, I want to say.
Imagine everything that tears are to compassion. Bring that same power to boredom and perhaps we will have achieved our “breakthrough.”