too much of a good thing.

Kat says...

I think the fact that Franzen made it into a casual one-liner on Gossip Girl is…A good thing?

I have put a fair amount of thought into this and have settled, somewhat uncomfortably, on the conclusion that we cannot complain that a great writer featured amongst the chocolate covered stick thin girls, digital printed chiffon and grand piano sex. However I refuse to believe that the Franzen-Glasses-Theft was a shameless PR stunt because then we’d find ourselves in very dark alleyway where ghost-writers and scripted spontaneous interviews mugged us every 7 minutes.

Those cheeky Gossip Girl scriptwriters like to reference only the latest, trendiest elements of pop culture. So we should be grateful that we got Franzen at Blair’s get together. The line could’ve been some quip about where Lady Gaga manages to buy wearable, organic meat or in which bar Miley Cyrus’ Mum drinks away her conscience.

I’m more concerned about overexposure. Franzen’s face has been smiling courteously and wisely at me from all manners of media. I have more or less accepted that we all live and breathe ‘cult of personality’ so I’m not too surprised that Franzen’s heart has been publically stitched to his sleeve by a pretty efficient PR machine. (If I believed in illogical extended metaphors, I would have made that ‘PR sewing machine.’ Just as well I prefer brackets).

It’s not enough to simply have a great actor, singer or author anymore. Us technologically advanced vampires need all the life force too. I have always been relatively nonplussed about knowing every stage of Brad Pitt’s facial hair or where he’ll snaffle his next kid from but I was addicted to any kind of interview associated with Franzen. Past tense used as I have recently decided to go cold turkey. It’s not been easy, but I’ve managed to distract myself by taking up such activities as compulsively googling my own name and, well, stalking other authors instead.

I began to realise that my perception of his latest book ‘Freedom’ was becoming utterly impersonal. Every other line was intrinsically linked to some element of his divorce, friendship with David Foster Wallace or turbulent relationship with his Mother. I know I’m making an obvious point but I’d rather know as little as possible about the author. Even gender. I like my subjectivity to be born out of old fashioned objectivity.

So while I’m relieved that a man of substance found himself at Blair’s party, I’m concerned that this overexposure is the only path to success for any great writer. Although perhaps I’ve just been slow to cotton on, and in fact the literary world has always been like an episode of Californication? So Courtney, to sum up I’m basically at a loss too.

I never, ever thought I’d be so baffled by an episode of Gossip Girl.

And the world comes crumbling down

 Courtney says...

No, this has nothing to do with the fact that all of a sudden I have reneged my Blake Lively hatred and now argue that she is in fact a misunderstood, un-natural blonde wunderkind of the Fashion World, even if she did redeem herself slightly on Gossip Girl last night by NOT sleeping with her Economics Professor even though she desperately wanted to. She instead pashed him and waved a moisturized hand goodbye as she exited his apartment in a storm of sexual tension and digital printed chiffon (what is GG's wardrobe department doing to her?!).

No, this also has nothing to do with the fact that Chuck and Blair are back to their love-hate-make-up-sex best with some pretty Rated scenes on top of a grand piano after her 20th Birthday Party, during which Rachel Zoe fell on the ground and had melted chocolate poured all over her stick figure body (hilarious).

No. This has to do with something else that happened on Gossip Girl last night that so profoundly affected my inner core that I had to text you in the middle of the night to exclaim my dismay rather than waiting until this blog post occurred this morning. 

Yes, it has to do with this: Jonathan Franzen was mentioned on Gossip Girl last night. The scene was this: 

Blair Waldorf's 20th Birthday Party.

The Who's Who of the Upper East Side in attendance (the aforementioned Rachel Zoe and Tim Gunn included).

Blair is discussing (read: lecturing) with Serena the pro's and con's of sleeping with her Economics Professor while simultaneously trying to distract Serena from the sexual attractiveness that is apparently unconsciously drawing the two of them together, AT ALL TIMES.

Blair becomes dismissive of Serena's stupidity when Serena notes she can withstand said attractiveness.

Blair, and I quote, says "If I wanted to talk about fiction, I would just go find Jonathan Franzen. Actually..."

Proceeds to walk away. IT IS INSINUATED THAT JONATHAN FRANZEN IS AT BLAIR WALDORF'S PARTY.

I don't know what to do with this information. Part of me is unashamedly proud of Jonathan Franzen (who of course I feel I have a relatively tight bond with after our cocktail evening a few weeks ago).

After all, he did sit in a windowless room with headphones on, typing away on a computer with nothing except a word processing program for nine years to write Freedom. Before that he took three years to develop his main protagonist and before that he went through exactly the same thing for The Corrections, and, as I understand it, a rather messy divorce (do you know anything about this?)

But part of me sees this as a *notes under breath*publicity stunt*. For the same reason Tim Gunn is popping up everywhere on the show from helping Jenny with her fashion project to attending the same party (I wonder if Gunn and Franzen would get along?) because ratings for Project Runway are dropping, I wonder whether Franzen's Freedom is down in sales and whether this is an attempt to reconnect with upwardly mobile tweens and young adults who love ridiculous television programs about vapid New York retards everywhere? (Side note: is this the correct audience for Franzen to be tapping?)

And if this was a publicity stunt, does that meant that all of the entertaining events surrounding Freedom have been a publicity stunt? Did Franzen hire somebody to steal his glasses from his face during a book reading in London recently (Kat, I swear it wasn't me)? Did Franzen 'accidentally' send the wrong edit to the UK publishers so that he would be forced to pulp it, drawing attention to it.

IF THIS IS TRUE MY WORLD JUST STOPPED TURNING.

So where to from here? We could go back to Susan Orlean. She does write a brilliant column. But I think I want something juicier, something more meaningful. After all, I have Gossip Girl for all that other stuff. And, apparently, so does Franzen. CONUNDRUM.

Please help me.

Seen and not heard, maybe?

Kat says ...

OK, so sure she is a vapid blonde who apparently often gets dressed in the dark/as a dare. But hey, I never said I was interested in marrying her. Hell, I don’t even have the energy to like her on facebook. What I’m trying to say is, I’d be more likely to be the one swiping the specs right off Franzen’s face than loitering around the set of Gossip Girl in New York to ask Blake Lively why she hasn’t posted me a thank you card for all those eyelashes I sent her.

I think I’m allowed to have a soft spot for a good looking woman. Am I not entitled to the odd crush based purely on looks, free of morality and logic? There, I said it. And I’ll say it again in my gruffest, vehemently anti-feminist, woman-objectifying voice ‘I like the way she is put together.’

I wouldn’t want to pull a Mad Men-esque January Jones on her, mind. Despite how good her meatloaf (not a euphemism) and old fashioned cocktail making skills might be, I agree, I think I would pull off my own ears if I had to come home to Mrs Blake Lively – Patrick after a long day in the office.

She is the kind of woman I’d like to have at my disposal for say, a school reunion. Yes, that’s right I would like to have her on my arm as I sipped lukewarm, souring white wine and engaged in the most awkward of all social situations – trying to prove major progression since early adolescence. And trust me, going lesbian post All Girls Boarding School guarantees a tough crowd. Anyway if she attempted too much of that annoying ‘talking’ women are so very fond of, I would simply banish her to the Porsche I’d rented for the occasion.

I do recognise how incongruous it is that as I construct this argument, I am most certainly coming across as rather vapid myself. Courtney, please don’t write your next blog about me. I swear I would never have shopped at supre (ahem) in 2003, nor would I ever glue a dog to my tinfoil dress (this in itself would be challenge, as my dog is a rather large and impatient spaniel.) And while I know my accent can be grating, I promise I'll never spit my C-Hs.

In fact, just like your Blakehatepost, I’m turning this into a cathartic process; I’m getting all my embarrassing crushes out the way. So the most significant and perhaps crucial in my journey out of the closet would have to be Maura Tierney (Abby Lockhart from ER.) I have also been known to admire Jennifer Beals – not in Flash Dance but in the L-word (flashy lesbian televised drama for those not in the know.) Actually I pretty much fancied everyone in the L-Word, just because they, like the cast of Friends, drank coffee together, were babes and pashed each other. I liked the gal from Grey’s Anatomy – Callie Torres I think she was called. I also have an enormous thing for Tina Fey. Less embarrassing, but while on a roll, I’ll confess that my dream girl would have to be Marion Cotillard. Julianne Moore in close second. Oh and of course Joan from Mad Men. Who could resist that sashay?

While on the subject, I’d like to point out that Julianne Moore (note - top 3 babe) is in a film called The Kids Are All Right. I’ve already heard great things about it from those lucky enough to have seen it and I’m pretty excited to see it myself.

Hey, the modern family is fine by me. And don’t panic, I don’t envisage Nate being any sort of donor for the family I (do not, for the record) intend to begin with Blake.

Blake Lively is a vapid blonde stick figure

Courtney says...

Ok, so I feel like this needs clearing up once and for all. You obviously couldn't take the hint when we sat around a table at DOC full of Blake Lively haters (both male and female, all fervently against) as your text last night to inform me that you had somehow (drugs? mind manipulation?) coaxed another person to "admit" they liked Lively (BTW - her surname is antithetical to her personality) proved. So I will have to destroy your dreams in the very public (although I'm pretty sure we only have one reader) forum of our blog. Here goes.

 The argument against Blake Lively possessing any discerning characteristics is two-pronged. Firstly, her character in Gossip Girl is the most annoyingly priveleged, vapid piece of fashionising idiocy this side of Olivia Palmerno (don't even get me started). Secondly, her public appearances lead me to believe that not only is her character reflective of her actual personality, but her real-life personality is reflective of a fish - gawky, constantly surprised , a little too shiny, and the kicker, stupid. 

So to the first argument. Lively's character Serena on Gossip Girl is joke. Where to begin? How about the fact that she creates every single problem on the show, only to flick her hair and claim ignorance and naivity (thanks for ruining Nate Archibalds adolescence Serena). Or worse still, how she then attempts to correct these situations by inventing elaborate schemes to avoid responsibility.

I'll admit I watched the latest episode today - 'Easy J' and this anecdote sums Serena up perfectly.

Blair: "You've got last night's dress with today's shame written all over it." 

Serena: "Actually Blair, we just stayed up all night talking." Lies. To her best friend. And she's not even trashy in a funny way.

Ugh and the way she kind of spits her C-H's and elongates her E's. It's All.So.Gross. And OMG:

Serena: "The guy I slept with is now my teacher, but I really like him." 

Blair: "Keep it in office hours, not at his apartment." 

But Serena will invent an elaborate hair brained scheme that involves lots of lies and lots of tongue against palette elongated vowels:

Serena (to mystery man): "Relationships with faculty are strictly forbidden." 

Mystery man: "That didn't sound particularly convincing. So come to this party. I'm getting an Eligible Bachelor award." 

Serena: (*clicks palette*) "OK".

Now to the second problematic Lively incarnation: her actual self. This is a great little post from Go Fug Yourself to get things started:

Ah, Boobs Leglsy, I knew Blake's brain couldn't keep you repressed for long:

 

 

It's as though she has a split personality and one of the identities is governed by her thighs, which are pathologically unable to endure the kiss of fabric against them without an exit strategy in place. I'm almost surprised the skirt doesn't come rigged with an alarm and a fire escape. 

Touche, Go Fug Yourself, Touche. See what they're saying (because I know you're too blinded by your love for Lively to decipher their wit) is that Blake Lively is a vapid blonde stick figure. Who, is governed entirely by her body. Particularly the parts we don't really need to see, but she wants to show us. Also this dress is both disgusting and encompasses a brown leather bondage contraption we know she uses late at night on boyfriends to disguise the fact that she has nothing in her head worth saying out loud.

OK, next image:

 

So putting aside the fact that you're wearing a dress made out of stretchy tin foil that looks like it came from Supre circa 2003 and focusing more on what's going on with the animal you are utilizing as an accessory: it is actually quite a cute puppy for the kind of small, purse-dwelling canines I'm not usually a fan of, but the way she's holding it? Treating it like a piece of property? Matching it to her hair colour? It's probably stuck to that dress too. So un-humanitarian.

Next image. Honestly? Green doesn’t suit many people, but it certainly doesn’t suit people who’s personality reeks of the same smattering of jealousy, envy and rage that green represents. And that’s without even discussing the dress itself. It looks like Dobby the House Elf (Harry Potter) vomited a chintzy, cheap meal all over Lively, who not only thanked him for his services, but appropriated his hair and make-up techniques to create a beehive monstrocity that makes her head look both unnaturally large and unnaturally (this girl defies science) stupid.

There is a final anti-Lively strain that lies in the fact that she dates only her co-stars because she can't make intelligent conversation with anyone who tries to understand her as more than Serena, but I'm spent.

Pheuw. I am really glad my inner rage about Blake Lively is now down on paper or thereabouts. Sorry it took so long, had to research (read: watch Gossip Girl) track down the most representative of photos, and then wait for a quiet moment where I could really let loose. So this is what contentment feels like.

 

 

Back to Basics

Courtney says...

Two things:

1) I think you articulated the most socially awkward thing the internet has removed. Ordering takeaway in person is always draining, always involved small talk, and is often embarassing. Thanks for pointing that out.

2) I need more time to construct a response to the whole 'internet is taking over my life and I don't like it' argument. It's on my mind all the time. Which angle to approach with this blog? Let me think. For maybe 24 hours. That's all I'll need. I am a Gen-X dystopian multi-tasker after all.

Kat says….

Apologies for the delayed response, but it isn’t easy to construct a retort to a post that essentially ended in bestiality. Even more troublesome than the fact you can find such things on the internet (the discovery of bestiality with a romantic anecdote must have involved a horrifying google – what did they/you ask to uncover that? I don’t recommend speculating, as I just did, ew) is the fact that as I read your ‘subtle’ description an advert for the Hollywood rom-com, based on the story, flashed through my mind. Can’t you hear the voiceover now? “A love that knows no bounds…” etc.

Right, I’m officially putting ‘it’ to rest now.

I’m electing to pick up on your presentation of the internet, as you so very delicately put it, a ‘fucked up place.’ Despite my prudish reaction (English heritage, as ever, at fault) to the F word (both the television show and the profanity) this is probably the best way to describe it. Furthermore as a subject choice for an online blog, I suppose it is a form of virtual metafiction we’re indulging in.

I forget the source of the article now, but a while ago I was reading a review of a recently published collection of letters between a famous author and various friends and lovers. The journalist adopted a nostalgic position remarking that nowadays such a collection would be almost impossible to amass, thanks to the internet. Unless (like me) you obsessively print out and collate favourite emails, articles and images much of our online communication is devoured by cyber space. A few interesting projects could evolve from this; is anyone documenting 50 Cent’s tweets, for example?

This has been partially and somewhat tragically actualised in the form of a book. ‘Twitterature’ residing within the traditional bright orange, penguin classic hipster packaging are famous novels broken down into tweets. The interpretation of Dante’s inferno: ‘I’m having a midlife crisis. Lost in the woods. Should have brought my iPhone’ is what my Dad would call witty, sure. It’s a mildly good and albeit depressing giggle, as it’s hard to ignore that reducing one of the world’s greatest books to a few one liners is akin to google imaging the Taj Mahal and subsequently feeling as though there is no need to actually go.

It’s true. I’ve developed a middle aged disdain for the internet’s ability to replace genuine experience with various online versions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as hypocritical as the next fake-glasses-wearing hipster and I recognise some benefits of the virtual world. Crikey, these days I can even eliminate the worst social interaction of all. Ordering takeaway. When completing this activity, it’s a blessing that human contact is now rendered defunct and I can do it online. You’d be surprised how much the posh English pronunciation of the phrase ‘92% extra cheese’ is misunderstood over the phone/at the drive thru. As with most good things in life, however, there is a curse to the blessing. The curse, of course, is that now I get all the extra cheese I want. In many ways I’m strangely proud to be heading for a Henry VIII ‘lift’ onto my steed.

Right, I’m off to Wikipedia existentialism.

Super Hero Super Swans

Courtney Says...

The above titling of our blog posts does look overly obnoxious doesn't it. It also suggests that people other than ourselves are actually going to read this which is awkward because let's face it, apart from the people I have either specifically sent the link too - these are very close friends who will indulge me regardless of my lack of talent - and perhaps the occasional person who stumbles across it whilst looking for the ramblings of a draining spoilt 13 year old (because let's face it, that is the person who should be writing under such a blog title), no-one apart from us is going to read it. Woe is me. 

You raised a number of points in your last post but I'm going to start by addressing the most frightening: the fact that you watched a movie about two horses falling in love. Not only do I have to question what RSS feeds you are following to even find out about a Belgium movie whose subject matter is such, but I have to go so far as to say that it brings into play an entire new set of issues surrounding our playful courting (but failure to address) of an issue that I never thought would be raised between the two of us. And it actually follows on from a conversation I had the other night. OK, two-pronged attack: A) the internet is a fucked up place where pretty much any thing can go down and absolute niches can be indulged and B) we are talking about horses right now. So the story goes, that these two people met online in a dating forum and their mutual appreciation for horses fuelled enough interest that they wanted to meet. This meeting occurred at a ranch (yes, took place in America) where horses were plentiful and apparently the sequence of events escalated quite quickly. I would like to point out at this point that A) I am regretting having brought this story up in the blog context almost as much as I regret saying or doings things whilst intoxicated at 3 o'clock in the morning B) I was not the person who found this story online, and the person who did assures me they just 'stumbled' across it (much like I imagine you stumbled across that film) and C) I do not know, but sincerely hope, this is not true. 

From one animal to another (what is this?!). Anyway, yes, Black Swan does look amazing. I always like it when Natalie Portman sheds her cute-but-slightly-off-kilter girl-next-door persona (read: Garden State and pretty much anything she is in that involves a romantic plotline with anyone but the devil in). Add to that the fact that it's an Aronofsky film, features, as you have excitedly pointed out Mila Kunis in an equally as debaucherous un-type role, and I think this is goign to be good. Plus, it's a film about dance that I imagine isn't going to systematically involve a group of terribly untalented white 'modern dance' students making choreographed sexual advances towards the camera. Step Up Black Swan. I also liked that you suggested my post about the fashion industry was a "philosophical enquiry into perfection" when all I really thought it was was an uninformed rant fuelled by a photograph of a girl who I'm sure is really quite lovely in real life and doesn't really deserve to have her image used for my self-indulgent and bitter rhetoric that probably stems back to the fact that I never made it as a model in a past life or something. 

Finally, while we're talking about seeking perfection online and offline, with mammals and without, I thought I'd proffer this excellent article from Adbusters about online communities and how they are pretty much putting so much pressure on the Japanese - who as we know are well ahead of the rest of us technologically - they are pretty much all committing suicide. Just casually.

I think if I was meeting horse-loving chat-site-visiting freaks from the bible belt of the States online, I'd probably want to kill myself as well. As it is, my little corner pretty much involves this blog and Gawker.com. Read this HILARIOUS post about the latest episode of Gossip Girl (do you indulge) if you get a moment. It's about 2ooo words (I know) presenting the most ridiculous conundrums rife in the series while at the same time blowing your socks off with its wit, purposeful spelling errors and references to teen dramas of the 1990's. Also, don't you love how this promotional shot not only references Courtney Cox et al's fountain-dwelling introduction to Friends but also maybe hints to the fact that a couple of the people in this line-up have supernatural powers and are potentially going to save New York from an apocalyptic [fashion] crisis. Ticking all the boxes, just like us, aye?