Bad omen

According to an on-line analyzer (here), I write like David Foster Wallace, described by his book editor as "one of the most influential and innovative writers of the last 20 years".

Sadly he was clinically depressed for half his short life, and hanged himself two years ago. In 2005 he said:

The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day . . . The only thing that's capital-T True is that you get to decide how you're going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't . . . The trick is keeping the truth up-front in daily consciousness.

RIP, David Foster Wallace. I wish I'd known of you in life.

Worse omen

Two further, separate samples of my writing produced the verdict: H.P. Lovecraft, an American author of horror, fantasy and "weird fiction" who died in abject poverty in 1937. This piece from 1926 is cheery:

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.