The conversations in The Canyons are vapid but pretty true to life for a certain faction of entertainment business aspirant. They sound like the echo of talk overheard in L.A. coffee shops every day. The aimless blather about upcoming projects, fuck buddies, agents, and juice cleanses that tourists always overhear (because it is usually overly loud) and mistake for being the whole makeup of L.A. And that is the crux of my complicated relationship to Bret Easton Ellis’s work. On the one hand, I respect him for accurately portraying a certain subsection of overprivileged Angeleno (super rich kids with nothing but loose ends), but I also always resented his work, and Less Than Zero in particular, for popularizing an image of L.A. as incredibly shallow, purporting to show an insider’s point of view. But mostly I resented it because I was so deeply in denial that the superficial, fame-seeking, drug-addled, sexually licentious but spiritually empty world he depicted in his work even existed at all in Los Angeles, which, duh, it totally does. He accidentally ended up glamorizing the thing he set out to satirize (50 million Patrick Bateman fans can’t be wrong).
It’s rare to find a man who really charms you.
The other comment men like to make is another winner “My maid just loves your books”. Really, well thank God for her.
Last month the Supreme Court ruled on an obscure little case called Horne v. Department of Agriculture, brought by a California raisin farmer who claims that by requiring him to pay into this so-called raisin reserve, the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) is illegally confiscating his private property. The case didn’t attract much media attention because the unanimous ruling was just a logistical one—it was kicked it back to a lower court—that was dwarfed by the gay-marriage and voting-rights decisions, which, understandably, are much bigger political issues than dried fruit. Still, for most of us the discovery of a governmental raisin hoard will count as a question-raising surprise. Where are they kept? Why are they kept? Is the American economy in danger of being thrust into recession by an avalanche of underpriced raisins? What other piles of fruit are out there, and, more importantly, can we eat them? “There is no Uncle Scrooge’s nickel bank of raisins,” says Dr. Mechel Paggi, director for the Center of Agricultural Business at Fresno State University. “No one storage unit full of raisins. The rules are not quite so draconian as that.” Darn.
Dangr33: did you let a boy take off your party dress? (h/t elvis costello)
Since women in those days did not wear between-the-legs underwear but rather sheafs of petticoats, an amorous act was quite feasible.
That gender essentialism may help sell books on how to decipher the behaviors of the “opposite” sex, but this is 2013—nobody buys books anymore.
It is crucial that we invent strategies for seeing the familiar differently. If we rely solely on seeing it in familiar ways, we will only be able to re-enact what we have already done and confirm what we already know. As changes occur to the familiar systems, either as a result of entropy or disturbances from outside forces, we will be poorly prepared with entrenched attitudes to control their transformations, the ways the energies they contain are released and to what ends they are employed. In order to adapt creatively to changing conditions, we must adapt our existing knowledge and skills. Accustomed though we might be to finding a new pill or product to solve critical problems, we cannot count on new knowledge alone to save us from becoming relics of our own history.