31 August 2015

0 FJ: apologies to capote: history, gossip and gore vidal (emotions via britney)

i have- quite late in the day for one writing a biography of jackie onassis- come to the late memoirs of the late gore vidal.
Screen Shot 2015-08-31 at 8.49.21 AMfor which i will need my celebrity EMOTIONS ALL OVER THE FACE face double…
brit 36

27 August 2015

0 FJ: didion, cobain, nostalgia, biography and the continuing belief that we can actually know ourselves, much less other people

WHERE TO BEGIN? because, after driving away 79% of the people who might have read this, that title really raised the stakes for whoever’s left. props to ya’ll who’re sticking it out! 

giphy

26 August 2015

23 August 2015

0 FJ: UNAUTHORIZED: the “true” story of a “new” nostalgia trend in lifetime original television events

as you may or may not know, i’m pretty much a huge big deal in the world of developing and casting lifetime movies that will never be made.
newlifetime_rgb_300-dpi_coral-on-white1
(via lifetime)

0 the good old summer time

so, basically, there was one week in june where it topped 85, followed by 8 weeks of 60-65, and then summer closes out with this. oh, england. 


11 August 2015

0 donovan

the thing about the people who have died is that sometimes it appears as though they are not absent. thanks to our technological world, they kept popping up at random.

my father recently sent out a group message to a mailing list he has not updated in the last six months. i know that he has not updated it because a friend of his who died several months ago was included in the message my father sent and in the replies he received.

the other day, when i discovered the limits of my international phone plan, i was rummaging through my emails trying to figure out what the password was for my mobile account. and there was an email from donovan. a conversation comprised of seven messages. and for just a moment i was tempted to click on it and let myself go down the rabbit hole, but i knew it would be a distraction.

i am in paris to work.

i am in paris to write.

i am in paris to produce the remaining 40% of my dissertation.

i am in paris to get shit done.

but sometimes the absence is just there.

this is disingenuous. the absence is a wound at which i pick constantly because i am writing about my youth and death and grief and loss and aging and anxiety and 9/11 and fear and stars and america and i have left america and i live in london. what i am writing about is tied into who i am but, because it is what i have been working on for the last twenty years, it is also tied into the people who have been in my life as i've been writing it.

this is disingenuous also because the absence is actually a presence within the present out of which i write. but then sometimes, some days, it's felt as what it is.

someone is gone.

and that is when it hurts.

today, there was this:


and, you guys, i wept. i fucking wept over the closing of the columbia house mail-order music club.

and the story isn't even going to sound good when i write it here, which is probably also why i wept.

it's a peculiar loneliness: when you have a story that only works between you and one other person and that person is gone.

but here it is: when i first met him, that first night when he came over to my dorm room to study for the english class we had together and we were just friends and he was pretending like he'd been a fan of u2 forever because he wanted us to have something in common, donovan told me that he was a member of the columbia house tape club. and i- who hadn't become cool enough to be a member of a mail-order music club until the CD-era and was eating a bowl of frosted mini wheats when he told me this- laughed so hard that i seriously worried mini wheats would come out my nose.

10 August 2015

0 the loo


i am in paris, squirreled away in a teeny garret in the top floor of an 8 floor walkup in bastille. the point of my being here is to produce as much of a draft of the critical portion of my dissertation as is humanely possible over the course of 7 days. très très bon, très très belle, très très chic.

slight wrinkle: the loo is on the landing. it is also shared, but this is of minor importance as the dude it's shared with seems to be away, it being paris in august and all. the location of the loo on the landing is something i was aware of going into this whole arrangement. what i was not aware of was the vagaries of the loo itself.

imagine, if you will, a toilet.

now, imagine a closet no bigger than a toilet plus the length of your feet.

then, put the toilet you've imagined in that closet, equip the closet with a motion sensor powered light placed approximately 3 inches beyond the area wherein motion occurs, put a challenging yet not impossible lock on the door, and place the closet immediately at the top and to the left of a precipitously steep flight of stairs.

what this creates is a situation where, when the occupant engages in the full-body twist required to summon the force to pry open the lock, he or she confronts the very real possibility of hurling head-first from the loo down the stairs.

that is the situation. it is now my great fear that i will die in paris, in my pajamas, clinging to a roll of toilet paper for dear life. mon dieu!