I make maps to understand what it means to be blind, and a flaneur . Those ideas are elusive destinations. Think of them as streets you can wander along with me. Start with the first post, ![Fog at Isle Royale [Source: wildmengoneborneo.com]](../wp-content/uploads/2008/04/isle_royale_fog.jpg "Fog at Isle Royale [Source: wildmengoneborneo.com]")
"Brendan, this is what the world looks like all the time to me. Just a little fog. It’s a fine day for boating on the Great Lakes.” Without missing a stroke he turned to dart a skeptical glance at me. Brendan the Navigator. When we named him I didn’t tell his mother everything the legendary Irish name implied. But I imagined him taking on the role of navigator for me. Growing up with Coastal Survey charts and tales of Great Lakes shipwrecks, he came to know Superior as another home. He never doubted the wisdom of canoeing there with a father who was half blind. 
If there is an emerging genetic underclass, I could run for class president or class clown. Read more in 
![Charlotte Casiraghi in a red dress. [Source: Stylophile]](../wp-content/uploads/2008/02/charlotte_casiraghi_red_dress.jpg "Charlotte Casiraghi in a red dress. [Source: Stylophile]")
When I figured out who Charlotte Casiraghi was, I realized that I once sent a poem to her mother. 
Poet and street artist Miss Tic isn't exactly a kid in a hoodie with a can of spray paint. Maybe she can still run like hell when the police show up, but can she sprint in high heels? Well-known in international avant-garde circles, her work is exhibited now at the Venice Biennale as well as the alleys of Paris. 
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September 23, 2023 at 6:00am
by Mark Willis 
I must confess, as did On The Media’s Bob Garfield, that until last week “I’d never read a single word of David Foster Wallace’s work because he’s reputed as a novelist to be very dense and difficult, along Thomas Pynchon/James Joyce lines, and I didn’t even know he did journalism. But …, I’ve been reading his reporting pieces, and they are simply magnificent – crystal clear and fact filled.”
The blurb for OTM’s interview about this pyrotechnic novelist and lucid long-form journalist is loaded with links to magazine pieces freely available on the web:
David Foster Wallace died last Friday at the age of 46. Known best as a fiction writer, he was also a journalist who wrote singular pieces about subjects as varied as porn industry awards, tennis-as-religion, luxury cruises, presidential campaigning, talk radio stamina, Midwestern wind patterns and lobster sentience. Pomona College professor Kathleen Fitzpatrick remembers Wallace’s point of view.”
Read David Foster Wallace’s NYT obit. Thanks to Steve Rhodes/flickr for the photo.
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