Welcome to Bookmarker!

This is a personal project by @dellsystem. I built this to help me retain information from the books I'm reading. Currently can only be used by a single user (myself), but I plan to extend it to support multiple users eventually.

Source code on GitHub (MIT license).

57

5

1990

4
terms
7
notes

Rick explains his life story (Mindy, Vince, Lenore) in POV subsections interspersed with the plot (i.e., Lenore answering phones)

Foster Wallace, D. (2004). 5. In Foster Wallace, D. The Broom of the System. Penguin Books, pp. 57-80

(verb) to form or move in waves; fluctuate / (verb) to rise and fall in volume, pitch, or cadence / (verb) to present a wavy appearance / (verb) to cause to move in a wavy, sinuous, or flowing manner

57

the corporate accountant with the unbelievable undulating daughter

on Mindy

—p.57 default author
strange
1 year, 5 months ago

the corporate accountant with the unbelievable undulating daughter

on Mindy

—p.57 default author
strange
1 year, 5 months ago
58

[...] Now that it's become undeniably apparent even to me that I have a son who lends to the expression "fruit of my loins" whole new vistas of meaning [...]

Rick on Vance

—p.58 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

[...] Now that it's become undeniably apparent even to me that I have a son who lends to the expression "fruit of my loins" whole new vistas of meaning [...]

Rick on Vance

—p.58 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

(noun) a branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature and relations of being / (noun) a particular theory about the nature of being or the kinds of things that have existence

59

achieving full ontological status only in subsequent union

on kissing Lenore

—p.59 default author
strange
1 year, 5 months ago

achieving full ontological status only in subsequent union

on kissing Lenore

—p.59 default author
strange
1 year, 5 months ago

(psychoanalysis) the process of investment of mental or emotional energy in a person, object, or idea

60

Lenore's own private well of emotional cathex

not entirely sure of the meaning here

—p.60 default author
uncertain
1 year, 5 months ago

Lenore's own private well of emotional cathex

not entirely sure of the meaning here

—p.60 default author
uncertain
1 year, 5 months ago
61

[...] I recall that at this point her mechanical chair on its track was caused to move toward the door of the inner office of Dr. Jay--whose fondness for useless gadgets would, I'm convinced, be of significant interest to his colleagues--and we called goodbye. [...]

Other than a brief mention of "fabric track-chair", this is the first time the mechanical chair situation is really explained. Pretty good

—p.61 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

[...] I recall that at this point her mechanical chair on its track was caused to move toward the door of the inner office of Dr. Jay--whose fondness for useless gadgets would, I'm convinced, be of significant interest to his colleagues--and we called goodbye. [...]

Other than a brief mention of "fabric track-chair", this is the first time the mechanical chair situation is really explained. Pretty good

—p.61 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago
64

[...] I made obscene amounts of money for the House, rose to such dizzying editorial heights that my salary became almost enough to live on. [...]

Rick on his publishing career in NYC. This kills me

—p.64 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

[...] I made obscene amounts of money for the House, rose to such dizzying editorial heights that my salary became almost enough to live on. [...]

Rick on his publishing career in NYC. This kills me

—p.64 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago
71

[...] I'll be murdered if he knows I told. I'll end up in a thousand jars of the whipped lamb, while the little Foamwhistles ironically starve.

Foamwhistle telling Lenore about Corfu

—p.71 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

[...] I'll be murdered if he knows I told. I'll end up in a thousand jars of the whipped lamb, while the little Foamwhistles ironically starve.

Foamwhistle telling Lenore about Corfu

—p.71 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago
73

[...] she studied classics and philosophy and who knows what else under a mad crackpot genius named Wittgenstein, who believed that everything was words. Really. If your car would not start, it was apparently to be understood as a language problem. If you were unable to love, you were lost in language. Being constipated equalled being clogged with linguistic sediment. To me the whole thing smacks strongly of bullshit [...] Words and a book and a belief that the world is words and Lenore's conviction that her own intimate personal world is only of, neither by nor for, her. Something is not right. She is in pain. I would like the old lady to die in her sleep.

Rick on Lenore Sr.

—p.73 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

[...] she studied classics and philosophy and who knows what else under a mad crackpot genius named Wittgenstein, who believed that everything was words. Really. If your car would not start, it was apparently to be understood as a language problem. If you were unable to love, you were lost in language. Being constipated equalled being clogged with linguistic sediment. To me the whole thing smacks strongly of bullshit [...] Words and a book and a belief that the world is words and Lenore's conviction that her own intimate personal world is only of, neither by nor for, her. Something is not right. She is in pain. I would like the old lady to die in her sleep.

Rick on Lenore Sr.

—p.73 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago
75

[...] he would urinate up onto my hanging necktie, a pale, sweetly thin jet, and there would be smells of powder, and my tie would be heavy at my throat, and would drip, and we would laugh together, toothless he and sad, sleepy I, at my urine-soaked tie.

I just really like the "sad, sleepy I" part

—p.75 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

[...] he would urinate up onto my hanging necktie, a pale, sweetly thin jet, and there would be smells of powder, and my tie would be heavy at my throat, and would drip, and we would laugh together, toothless he and sad, sleepy I, at my urine-soaked tie.

I just really like the "sad, sleepy I" part

—p.75 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

(noun) an elementary individual substance which reflects the order of the world and from which material properties are derived (coined by Leibniz)

76

This was the world the monadic Vance Virogous received and mirrored through himself

not really sure what it means in this context

—p.76 default author
strange
1 year, 5 months ago

This was the world the monadic Vance Virogous received and mirrored through himself

not really sure what it means in this context

—p.76 default author
strange
1 year, 5 months ago
76

[...] through the miracle of television, Vance Vigorous enjoyed a special relationship with Richard Nixon. As Watergate wore on in brilliant color, Vance took to furtive looks, pinched whiteness around the bridge of his nose, refusals to explain his whereabouts or give reasons for what he did. My tape recorder--admittedly tapeless and not even plugged in but nevertheless my tape recorder--began to appear places: under the dining room table at dinner, in the back seat of the car, under our bed, in the drawer of the mal table. Vance would, when confronted, look blankly at the tape recorder and at us. Then he would pretend to look at his watch. [...]

—p.76 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago

[...] through the miracle of television, Vance Vigorous enjoyed a special relationship with Richard Nixon. As Watergate wore on in brilliant color, Vance took to furtive looks, pinched whiteness around the bridge of his nose, refusals to explain his whereabouts or give reasons for what he did. My tape recorder--admittedly tapeless and not even plugged in but nevertheless my tape recorder--began to appear places: under the dining room table at dinner, in the back seat of the car, under our bed, in the drawer of the mal table. Vance would, when confronted, look blankly at the tape recorder and at us. Then he would pretend to look at his watch. [...]

—p.76 by David Foster Wallace 1 year, 5 months ago