“I am the martyr of this TGI Friday’s.”
Caity Weaver’s static odyssey in pursuit of infinity mozzarella sticks is a masterpiece uniting form, content, theory and object (respectively: prison diary or “gulag lit”; the haps over the course of 14 hours at a TGI Friday’s; the Nietzschean chestnut that “only great pain, the long, slow pain that takes its time, forces us philosophers to descend into our ultimate depths; I doubt that such pain makes us ‘better,’ but I know that it makes us more profound”; unlimited plates of mozzarella sticks).
5:17 p.m. A rib falls on the floor.
Like the idea of unlimited TGI Friday’s apps itself, the piece is simultaneously excruciating and full of reward. [Gawker]