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sunshine jen: On the happy rabbit
Recently a good friend told me an amusing anecdote and finished his story with 'don't go putting this on the happy rabbit'. Because I wish to hear good anecdotes from him for years to come, I will not put his story on the happy rabbit. I will not put his story on the happy robot either. However, let me just say that the story was really hot.
I know, I can be such a tease. So what. Keep reading.
I consider myself a private person. I like keeping secrets and confidences. I could tell you what I had for breakfast, but I'd really rather not. And that love affair I had one summer while tending sheep on the top of a mountain in Wyoming, nope I'm not gonna talk about it.
Yep, I finally got my butt into a movie house to see Brokeback Mountain. My reaction? It will win all the awards. Now, that that's out of the way, can we please have it quiet? I mean it. Could we have a silence? Look at that Ledger fella, he's quiet, do what he does.
Brokeback Mountain is not about gay cowboys. Gay cowboys is the bullshit that gets everyone all excited. Uuuuuu. Ahhhh. They ride horses, and they're gay, and they wear jeans well.
Brokeback Mountain is about secrets. How secrets can shape lives. How secrets can be ignored and buried. How secrets can not be ignored and buried. To what extent do all of us protect our private selves? We might not be hiding some big gay cowboy secret. Still, I think we all need space for our private selves. Some might need a big mountain. Some might need a small room. Some might get it in the middle of a crowded subway car. Whatever floats your boat.
Has anyone been reading those articles in the New York Times on JT Leroy and James Frey? It seems like writers can not just create fiction anymore. They have to create themselves as well. The author is a work of art. The author must be consumed as well as the book. Look at me! I'm the author! I write fictional non-fiction fiction in post post-modern mass media! Yeeehah!
If this is now the case, the Sunshine Jen column would like to hire Paris Hilton to represent this column. She wouldn't have to write the column. She would just have to be the column. . . .and look hot doing it. Her people can talk to my people.
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