Same. DFW at least plumbed some of the psychological deep-end that I (apparently) have as a white male nerd. Such as: some confusing feelings about class and the relative merits of high- and low-brow art, and this strong un-expressed emotion (evoked in IJ chapter 1) of being fundamentally unable to make myself understood. (Not to say that I actually have anything important to say, but, on an emotional level, the sentiment is in there.)