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Archive for October, 2010

As anyone who knows me knows, I’ve been working on a memoir “about my neighborhood” for over two years. It’s really much bigger and more intriguing than that, but that’s its code name. It’s like when you’re driving through Los Angeles and you see cardboard signs with arrows that say this way to “Clearasil Commercial Shoot” which is really secret code for the latest Brad Pitt movie.

Anyway. There has been a lot of interest in the Neighborhood Book, but not enough to keep me going, and for now… I am deciding to cut my losses and put it aside.

The truth is, I met another project and I’m crazy about it. I get up at 5 a.m. to work on it and when friends text me to go to lunch at 7 a.m., I think they’re weird, but then I look at the clock and it’s 1 p.m. and it’s just that I’ve been that absorbed in my work for hours.

There is resistance, though. A mini outcry. The old project is like the boyfriend that everyone has gotten used to–actually people really like him and want me to keep seeing him.

I don’t know what to say. It’s not him, it’s me. Maybe someday we will get back together and work things out. I just need space to work on this new book (that I’m really, really excited about). We’re in the throes of ecstasy, but I know I need to act like I at least feel a little bad for leaving that other project. (Clearasil? Neighborhood? I’m already forgetting its name!)

Speaking of misleading cardboard signs, the new memoir takes place in L.A. It may sound like an acne commercial, but it’s totally Brad Pitt.

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This story from Gawker about an “epic rager” at Northwestern that frightened a neighbor’s 8-year-old daughter as she and her family were biking to church on a Saturday night made me snort. Courtesy my pal Chris Burlingame.

The comments are priceless:

“I say, hit these guys with Double Secret Probation. It’s the only thing that ever works.”

Full Gawker coverage here.

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To the surprise of absolutely no one, there will be a (at least one) book coming out about the miraculous ordeal of the 33 Chilean miners.

Transworld plans to capture the “compelling human drama” of the Chilean mine rescue, acquiring 33 Men, Buried Alive: The Inside Story of the Trapped Chilean Miners by Guardian journalist Jonathan Franklin.

Full story here.

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This morning I was drinking coffee and screwing off on twitter, cheerfully minding my own business when my doctor called to tell me I have skin cancer.

It’s the good kind. Shallow like the Los Angeles beach I probably got it on. I’m having surgery tomorrow and it will be removed, but for now: I actually have cancer.

I wear SPF 55 sunscreen.
Dr: “Ah, Neutrogena?”
Me: “Yep.”
Dr: “They’re good.”
Like they’re a law firm representing me or something.

The thing is what we were joking about on twitter is this. A really sensitive guyfriend of mine took exception to the meme on facebook that has women posting where they like to leave their purses as a breast cancer awareness callout.

It’s this season’s ‘pale pink with black lace trim’ status update. Last January women posted the color of the bra they were wearing to draw male attention to breast cancer. I think.

For example with the purses joke I’d say: I like it on my kitchen floor, and it’s not just one. I’m doing it with two Hobos right now.

The real issue here is, have I been smited? My friend feels that other kinds of cancer should get some attention and then, during that actual conversation, I got one of the other kinds of cancer.

The good news is that the mole I had the doctor remove from my neck just because it was ugly is totally cancer free.

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I’m not going to do a review of The Social Network, because most of you have probably already seen it and also because if you haven’t seen it, I don’t have much to add beyond: Just go see it now. It’s fucking brilliant.

It’s being compared to Network, The Graduate, and, yes, Citizen Kane, but could it be based on a dumber premise? Why does a movie about a Web site work so well?

I’ve thought a lot about this since I basically landed a career as an author due to a silly Web site. How do you make the story classic? How do you not sound like flotsam?

There’s a really brilliant scene where the co-founder’s girlfriend confronts him about why he hasn’t changed his Facebook status to “in a relationship.” The only way to have a line like that work is to anchor the film in the past. And by that I mean the ’70s.

This movie had a very Paper Chase feel and comparisons to The Graduate aren’t entirely off. I think if you’re going to make a movie about something frightfully contemporary and possibly written in invisible ink, it’s imperative to recall something older, hence more classic. Enter sexism.

The women in this movie strip to their underwear to dance for frat guys. They make out with each other at parties, they fuck guys in bathroom stalls because the guys got a lot of hits on their Web site. There are Palo Alto groupies who like to party. There are underage “interns.”

I honestly don’t think that the men who produced a screenplay this well-written were unaware that all young women don’t act this way. I’d like to believe that it’s a very purposeful and effective callback.

There’s a confrontation scene between the protagonist, Facebook founder and the woman who accidentally inspired the site, set at what looks to my non-Ivy League self as an eating club. She reprimands him that the Internet isn’t written in pencil, it’s written in ink.

This patina of the past that infuses this film makes me believe that’s actually so.

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