(Craig McLean, The Telegraph) …In a voice that has been described as “Jimmy Stewart from Mars”, he rhapsodises about the “old, large, stainless steel contraption” with which Dr Chin holds his “super-sharp needle… And the thing is filled with Novocaine. So he first puts a little bit of something on your gum to deaden just the surface. OK? Then he introduces the needle into that gum. And just presses a little bit of Novocaine,” he whispers again. “And you don’t really feel it. But now he’s numbing as he goes. He’s numbing as he goes,” he repeats, and, coffee notwithstanding, I’m starting to feel sleepy.
“So that needle could come clear up through your brain and you wouldn’t know it! He numbs as he goes. It’s so fantastic. I love going to the dentist.”
The late writer David Foster Wallace defined the word “Lynchian” as referring to “a particular kind of irony where the very macabre and the very mundane combine in such a way as to reveal the former’s perpetual containment within the latter”. And this seems a pretty accurate description of my morning at Lynch’s house.