Web Hype
Lindsay Lohan’s nth circle of hell
Mark Baumer pointed me towards this interesting post on the FSG blog in which Kevin Guilfoile selects Lindsay Lohan’s scrambled ad-libbed rants, and with a quick line break, proposes unlikely poetry authored by her. He compares these ‘collaborative’ poems (see related Rumsfeld poetry post) with Lohan’s lyrics, easily establishing the former’s more literary sensibilities — which gets me thinking: the inadvertent tongue, coked out or not, is often closer to one’s truth. The much inferior ‘utilitarian’ song lyric of hers may implicate how sometimes intent (commercial, aesthetic, whatever) in writing has nothing to do with it.
Of course, stream of consciousness is an old bag and Burroughs an old man. I’m not saying ‘let’s go crazy’ yada yada (dada dada?) I’m just saying there’s a lesson here — stop making sense (the name of this reference is the talking heads). Or,
The Burn Books of Hollywood
By Lindsay Lohan
Oh my God,
I’m not working,
And I have a house
To pay for now. And yes,
The web sites,
The gossip pages,
And all of that stuff
Have hurt my career—
They’re like the
Burn books of Hollywood.
I heard somewhere that fallen/ing celebrities are our sacrificial lambs. We hunger their demise, and need a new one every year. All Lindsay Lohan wants is to ‘be in Oscar-nominated films.’ There’s something really touching about that, how she doesn’t even need to win. It’s like being nominated for a Pushcart, sometimes that will just have to do.
Emily Dickinson probably never got laid. Lindsay Lohan probably the opposite. I imagine both of them, dick or no dick, braving their lonely and lost days with a barely controllable urge to explode. Life has a way of turning us into human fireworks that can’t reach the sky. Writers have a better aesthetic understanding of this shit, and can mold it into ‘literature.’ For someone ‘normal’ like Lindsay, all she has is her heart. And what a full and bloated heart it is.
Tags: lindsay lohan
1st comment
1st comment
I find it hard to any sympathy, empathy or interest in Lindsay, despite your quite honest and articulate presentation of her self-imposed predicament.
I find it hard to any sympathy, empathy or interest in Lindsay, despite your quite honest and articulate presentation of her self-imposed predicament.
that’s not true bra
that’s not true bra
My wife got a free subscription to NYLON and I read that interview. It’s a trainwreck, even though the reporter and her go on and on about how much she’s changed. Entitlement city, man. I don’t even think most great actors get to (or want to) choose to only be in “good, Oscar-nominated movies”. Unless they are Kate Winslet. Anway! I love that poem! It is great!
My wife got a free subscription to NYLON and I read that interview. It’s a trainwreck, even though the reporter and her go on and on about how much she’s changed. Entitlement city, man. I don’t even think most great actors get to (or want to) choose to only be in “good, Oscar-nominated movies”. Unless they are Kate Winslet. Anway! I love that poem! It is great!
“Life has a way of turning us into human fireworks that can’t reach the sky.”
my loins are warm.
“Life has a way of turning us into human fireworks that can’t reach the sky.”
my loins are warm.
Did that sacrificial lamb sentiment come from that episode of South Park where Britney Spears shot her face off?
I only actually develop any emotion regarding celebrities–always pity–once everyone who actually cares turns against them. It makes no sense for me to pity anyone, most especially a celebrity, but I can’t help it.
Did that sacrificial lamb sentiment come from that episode of South Park where Britney Spears shot her face off?
I only actually develop any emotion regarding celebrities–always pity–once everyone who actually cares turns against them. It makes no sense for me to pity anyone, most especially a celebrity, but I can’t help it.
I’m dipping my loins in cocaine and hoping to replicate Lohan’s artistic brilliance. May all our inadvertant tongues toss off such glorious nonchalance!
I’m dipping my loins in cocaine and hoping to replicate Lohan’s artistic brilliance. May all our inadvertant tongues toss off such glorious nonchalance!
maybe, i heard it somewhere, and they might’ve been talking bout southpark.
maybe, i heard it somewhere, and they might’ve been talking bout southpark.
that’s an expensive teabag bra
that’s an expensive teabag bra
amen vato. we’ll see if it pays off. so far i’ve written:
white thighs, white lies
white as the winter snow.
white fire, getting higher
shit man, my mom’s knocking on my bedroom do’
amen vato. we’ll see if it pays off. so far i’ve written:
white thighs, white lies
white as the winter snow.
white fire, getting higher
shit man, my mom’s knocking on my bedroom do’
you implicated the incident of writing
good job bra
you implicated the incident of writing
good job bra
This kickass post (and the above coke poem) demands I use my new word, a hybrid of “awesome” and “tubular”: awesomular. This is awesumlar!
This kickass post (and the above coke poem) demands I use my new word, a hybrid of “awesome” and “tubular”: awesomular. This is awesumlar!
emily + la lo –> perhaps a dick wasn’t what was needed. just sayin’.
emily + la lo –> perhaps a dick wasn’t what was needed. just sayin’.
yes, i agree. i was grasping for material. male suitors have nothing to do with a woman’s poetry.
yes, i agree. i was grasping for material. male suitors have nothing to do with a woman’s poetry.