secret superstar!

Apologies to the two people who read this site (myself and my mother, who has actually posted a comment pretending to be a random “fan”), for not writing since the untimely demise of my cousin (see below).

Whenever I write something sincere, I always have to leave it up to ruminate and be seen by god knows who for two weeks while I spend my time watching One Tree Hill, although in my defense, my friend Brittany did name her cat after Chad Michael Murray. My friend Brittany also thinks 2 Fast 2 Furious is a great movie, but in her defense, she will be married to Michael Pitt someday, and in Michael Pitt’s defense, he is super hot.

Michael Pitt has also decided to play Damien Echols in the filmtacular West Memphis Three, which is based on this story, which speaks for itself. In between harping about the continual filth factor inhabiting the apartment I haven’t my share of rent for in two months and asking if I’m fat, I’ve also been on my boyfriend’s ass to audition for it (although a cast of Michael Pitt, Jacob Pitts and Jacob Reynolds might confuse people). It is feasible that Jacob may do this because he is an actor. His actoring is partly the result of an ingrained superhuman talent and partly the result of Harold Guskin, acting coach to the stars. Harold, who I’m on a first name basis with since I don’t know him at all, recently had a book launch party here in New York, and I got to accompany Jacob to it. In attendance were a bunch of anorexic girls, a bunch of guys who used too many hair products, a bushy-bearded Kevin Kline, a man-sandaled James Gandolfini, and, most amazingly of all, a very tan and feathered Jon “Blaze of Glory” Bon “Livin’ On A Prayer” Jovi, my hero.

Being a professional non-famous person with natural breasts and enormous ankles, I had no reason to speak to these three A-through-C-listers, but it did get me thinking that it might be time to write about The Trial again. Not my silly play version of it (which a friend might allow me to stage as a reading soon, unless he comes out of his coma), but the real one. What does any of what I just roundaboutly yammered on have to do with The Trial? Plenty, my good mom, plenty.

Let’s dissect everything I just spewed out and screech to a piercing halt the erratic, incomprehensible and windbaggy route of my lurching train of “thought” and see what I mean.

#1: I haven’t written in awhile.
This is mostly because I’ve had to do a lot of reading…reading people like Hegel (plech), Kant (heh heh), Habermas (eech), Benjamin (sexy)…you know, stuff we pretended to read in college to impress people. The best thing about these authors (especially the ones who wrote in this past century) is that many of them wrote about Kafka when talking about justice, law, bureaucracy, citizenship–and it got me thinking about the force of secrecy in governmnent. Benjamin, Weber et al talk about how sovreign power is the monopoly of legitimate violence (which includes the threat thereof), but what about the monopoly of secrecy? And in Kafka’s case, a secrecy that protects a bureaucracy invented to transcend its inhabitants? Huh? What about that? Any takers?

#2: The Robin Hood Hills murder case–a Kafkian nightmare
Please catch up on the latest developments and wish Damien, Jason and Jesse the best as they embark on what might be the last of a series of wrenching, alienating and altogether Kafka-tastic trials…that is, if Kafka were a one-toothed mail-order PhD with Satanic Panic.

#3: I saw Jon Bon Jovi in person
“Wanted Dead Or Alive” is the ass-kickingest song ever. Once I wrote a story inspired by The Trial and gave everyone in my class a tape of that song to listen to while they read it. I did this without Jon Bon Jovi’s permission, so I probably owe him $400,000, which I don’t have.

If I did have $400,000, I would NOT give it to Jon Bon Jovi, who although he seems very nice does not need any more money. I would spend it to repay my student loans, my parents for all the horrible things I’ve put them through, and on a lifetime supply of Stewart’s Diet Root Beer. Then with what was left over, I would stage my play, The Trial, which is an adaptation of Kafka’s book, which I don’t have to pay him $400,000 to adapt because he’s dead.

One thought on “secret superstar!

  1. At first I was just trying to exploit the burgeoning Typepad network. I thought, ‘Everyone will be signing up and looking around and clicking obscenely on that recently updated list, everyone will link to my site out of cordiality and camaraderie and innocence. As soon as I save up enough money to subscribe, yeah, or as soon as I’m 100% that I want to dish out yet another monthly fee for anything.’ But while I waited on that decision, I would click obscenely on that recently updated list and gather all of the addresses that I feel some sort of, well, spark or affinity for. Or maybe I like their typefont. Or something. Who’s this, she’s cute…wait, what’s this crazy Kafka nutcase about? This chick is downright obsessive, the quizzes? Okay, bookmark. Months later, I figured I’d drink one or four pots of coffee and figure out how to install moveable type, hey, its free. But over time, I realized that Pan Kisses Kafka was not just a grab-bag of quirkiness (um…). She can actually write. (This is not your mom, but sometimes I wish that…) Granted, everything in the world comes 180 back to Herr K. but, well, its the style -you know. In the Darwinian pocket of my targeted blog list…you’re the sole survivor. So I figured I’d let you know that your mother is not alone. Well, I mean, she might be. Maybe she lives alone. But other people drop in here once in awhile.
    Wanna trade links now?
    [My very first post was a burned Kafka quote. The usual one, of course.]


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