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Thursday, January 26, 2006 :::
 

Why does James Frey remind me of Ben Affleck?


::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 5:02 PM


 

Okay, yes I do need to tell the truth. My BIGBOSS is switching me over to hard news. So only the facts ma'am. Too bad because I really enjoyed doing the human interest pieces. I'm good at them. Even BB said so over the two-and-a-half-hour lunch we had last week.
And to think he told me I was too pretty to be in news when he hired me. Those three leads for the investigative pieces...well, I plan to ignore them. I don't need the fire chief and the mayor and their minion hating me. They'll let me burn or get robbed.
News is really about the bottom line. Sell. Be sexy or at least garner peeps eyeballs.
The FC (food critic) is retiring soon. I think I'll steal his job and get chubby and happy.
It is a goal.


::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 4:53 PM


 

man-O-man I love images! ART & WORDS = MY WHOLE LIFE
One day when I am needing an exhaustive project to tame me down I will do an image an hour here, performance art. Watch me crash.


::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 11:13 AM


 



::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 11:08 AM


 

There was a time when I was a truth-seeker. I got over that. Truth shifts and becomes different and is hard to hang onto because it is always being replaced with a higher truth, so I am trying to go for THE BIG LIE now. It's very American.

Please congratulate me.


EMERGENCY! Please do not think this blog is about white teeth. In fact I detest those whiter-than-white smiles. Teeth are supposed to be the color of the pearly off-white inside of a shell, not WHITE as a piece of paper. Ack!

For the real story search the archives.


::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 11:04 AM


 

James Frey, Oprah, and now "Night" gets in the MIX



Oprah must be pulling her hair out.

Now she has picked Elie Weisel's "Night" as her book-club selection. "Night" is consiered "a novel so real it sounds like a memoir." It was written in the 50s. So here we go again.

I know two "I pulled my toenails out with a pliers" writers, one in Chicago, the other in New York, who must be kicking their own asses for not calling their books memoirs instead of fiction. They missed the chance at becoming bazillionaires.

Part of the problem with writing, if you want success, is that you need to make it BIG. The BIG, outrageous story wins. So you "embellish."

Then comes along the fact-checkers and they screw everything up for you. So...here's the secret!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS BIG........perk up your ears (or eyeballs)......

Play out your fantasy on a template of reality. At least get the towns right, the colors of the prision uniforms, the streets...all of that REAL stuff that can't be changed, then make up names like Slinky and Wombat for your characters...you know NICKNAMES.Just say none of youse guys ever used REAL names.

Make it big. Men, and some women, really dig that hard-boiled crap..."I jammed his hand into the deep-fat fryer, a million degrees of hogfat, and what came out was a burnt bowling-ball of flesh."

Hahahahaha...fuck I should write the book myself.


::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 10:31 AM


Tuesday, January 24, 2006 :::
 

Hair Stuck In My Teeth

I get a cat. I need a mouser. He grows on me although I think he is just another animal, a furry beast, not much different than living with a muskrat. And he tangles up in my heart, so I actually let him sit on me and sleep in my bed even though he likes to sniper me with those razor-sharp talons. We are good, this cat and me.
Then I go away for 3 days. When I return, I open the door and cat does that hunchback thing and flies out of the room. He snubs me. He pretends he doesn't know me for the whole day. Then all of a sudden he cozies up to me again and becomes my friend.
This isn't right. I feed him. I take a big plastic spoon and get the clumps out of his litter box. I think of him constantly when I am away. He face even pops up when I am being a happy cowgirl.
He could at least pretend he remembers me. Don't you think?


::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 9:58 PM


 

The Genuine James Frey FakeOut

If you want to be a big fat liar and write a fake memoir so you can rake in a lot of bestseller bucks, so be it. This is America, we love trash. But, DO NOT DRAG YOUR MOTHER INTO YOUR BULLSHIT. That is just wrong.
And FYI...Kerouac, Hemingway, Bukowski, and the Daves all published under FICTION and we still believe their stories are real. So go fiction.
BTW there is an actual name for made-up memoirs, actually two...the auto-bio, and roman a clef.
We all need to go back to skool.

P.S. Oprah's minion scares the hell out of me. Such blind adoration. Heil!
P.P.S. Publishers need to hire a more literate staff.




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::: posted by bite me, kick me, make me scream at 9:54 PM




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