Sunday, 28 February 2010
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Love and Hate
“…that buck-toothed witch Satan, Hillary Clinton… No, she is a -- she is a -- Oh, God! She is evil…Bill Clinton and his fat ugly wife, Satan…. “
“I just don't think she's a nice person. I think she doesn't have a sense of humour. I think she's marginally talented, adequately good-looking, doesn't do anything to make the world a better place ..."
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Kittens.
I have been told I may be, well. Cranky. My blogs are cranky. I think they are insightful and interesting and Vanity Fair may just ring me any second.
However. I wish to put this right.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Adjunct
I wonder how that makes a client feel.
I wonder what it is like to share your most important and sometimes only vital attatchment as the property of the world.
I wonder... do ethical boundaries mean very much anymore?
You tell me.
The Downfall of Anna O.
I'm really convinced that something horrible is going to have to happen to her before she really gets over it and embraces sobriety. She needs to give it up.
What I heard was him beating himself up for being this bad person ... that's not recovery.
As Pinsky tried to draw him out, Sizemore looked back at Dr. Drew with a soft, tired smile. Finally he said,
“Not on TV.”
But there is one thing I very much wish on Dr. David Drew Pinsky:
....I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty.
Above all, I must not play at God....
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Do not fear, your Daily Nadir is here.
I am working on another blog, but these things take time and thought.
EDIT
I also want to thak the folks over at Tila's Rot Spot.. they are doing some very complex and worthy work on getting child exploitation out of Tila's Hot Spot website. Well done.
As a taster, skip on over to this test. I will be getting to know Dr. Drew Pinsky very, very well over the next few days.
http://www.0eb.com/
Go well.
Monday, 22 February 2010
I Dream of Courtney
Every time I see Courtney Love in the news, on Twitter, on Perez Hilton, the song How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? comes into my mind. I hum it as I make my tea and sit down to write this.
Even for an old-comer like me, it is sometimes hard to be objective. How does one observe an icon? I might as well take on Pinochet, or Evita. From her public breakdowns to her vital history she is in our collective memory. I once read a book about dreaming of Madonna. I wonder if such a book could be written about Courtney.
I want to come at this with no sense of entitlement, even though Courtney Love has offered herself to the world. I want to hold Courtney up , send her a few NAM-MYOHO-RENGE-KYO's and be done with it. But she demands more of me.
As a collective we all know Courtney's history. She married another icon of the grunge scene in 1990, but I think we forget that she was She before she met He. Courtney's love of music started long before the taste of her 2nd husband hit her. Did you know that she sang in Faith No More, or that the was to travel to Ireland and England on her own at 16 on a poxy trust fund? And she had a first husband. Not so Iconic, but in 1980 he loved her , and she loved him and there was a history before the grunge. And the drugs. And the shotgun. Courtney was Courtney before she belonged to you, or me, or Kurt.
I want to fast forward. You know the story, and so I wont trouble you with the myth. However, recently Courtney has troubled me. I have of course been mildly interested in her antics, but it was the FICO scores that got me. And reams and reams of these FICO attacks/I will fix your score/send me your money woes, that would follow on Facebook, Twitter and in her blog. It would appear that Miss Love is worried that the government has fucked her and fucked her big. But look deeper, even a centimetre deep. One could grab a tin foil hat and batten down the hatches. Courtney seemed to spend days and days, awake and frantic about what phantom Cobain was coming to take her away ha ha ha ha ho who who who who. And my icon fell.
But then she abated. She left Twitter. She Ceased and Desisted. She popped her head up on Facebook to Address The Masses On FICO, and her parental woes, but again as quick as she came, she went. Phew!
And now to her other crusade. The Bean. This precious, deeply talented, interesting child. This product of Icon who did no chose her birthright, yet is lumbered
I am going to tell you a rather big reality. I was a child of a rock star. I know what it is like to sleep on a blanket in egg crate covered studios, the smell of dope lingering and my parent laughing in the background, doing the last take. I know what it is like to want to go home, oh WHEN can we go home! But also be in awe of my parents talent. I also know what it is to want said parent to shape up for fucks sake and be my parent.
I often wonder, in all of Courtney's rants if she can stop for a moment in her quiet reflection and grasp empathy.
In all of her anger and tiger mother embodiment I wonder if she can bypass her resentment and hold steady to the fact that somewhere, Frances has chosen to be away from her. I wonder if she can trust that she raised a highly capable child, a thoughtful woman, a true heart that knows exactly what is good for her. If she wants away, then the best remedy is to let her fly. Of all the gifts she could give, I wonder if a gentle return is in order.
Courtney, in the collective of the children of Icons, we never wanted your gifts, or your fashion sense,your fabulous friends, or your music. Although it sad that Kurt left us in such a violent way, all we want is your well being, your silence, your growth into crone, wise one, teller of stories rather than being the story. `
As a parent, and a survivor of rock and roll, I wonder if Courtney is ready to do something quite extraordinary and just be quiet.
Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her
Many a thing she ought to understand
But how do you make her stay
And listen to all you say
What Tila Did Next....
I love the internet.
I have loved it since we first met in 1993. My gleaming Macintosh classic whirring up, dialling into a world of Geo-cites, HTML chat, news groups and even shopping online was exciting. It seemed all things were possible. Of course with possibility there is darkness. The chat rooms filled with dirty old men, the underground of violence and terrorist threat grew like a cybernetic monster, and the ability to crush someone ego/soul/value at the touch of an anonymous button was ever present. The recent advent of social networks like Facebook and Twitter, and blogs like this one seem to attract all walks of life. From the witty naysayer to the deeply and very obviously mentally and emotionally disturbed.. I ask myself as I witnessed the horrific emotional trainwreaks on the ride of this voyeuristic self-media, do I stop and stare? Do I ring the internet emergency services? Or do I sit back, grab my popcorn and chew through the most stressful bits?
Recently I decided to sign up for Twitter. I thought it might be interesting to try and find my own voice in a few clever sentences. Sadly, I think my teenager was right when he read my Tweets. He labelled it an “utter fail”. What I did find was as fascinating as any sociology thesis I have ever read, albeit in 40 characters or less.
Raise your hand if you have heard of Tila Tequila. Anyone? No? Nor had I. Enter a short article on another blog site, a click of my mouse, and I am sent racing through the innerwebs to the never-never land of Tila's Twitter-shaped rabbit hole.
I will give you some brief and slightly compelling history. Tila Tequila ( birth name Nguyen) is an internet sensation, or rather was. In the hay day of the My Space social network, she added over 1 million “friends”. She was a sexy little minx that threw not only caution, but quite often her underpants to the wind. In 2006 Nguyen scored herself a silly little reality show called "A Shot At Love" for MTV. Tila it seemed, had the nefarious world of reality television and it's fans at her spiked stiletto wearing feet. Did I mention she was also in a show called Dance Off With Your Pants Off?
And then something broke.
Tila Nguyen was born in Singapore to French Vietnamese parents who immigrated to the United States after the Vietnam war. The youngest of 3 children, Nguyen often refers to her childhood as rough and disjointed, and freely admits to a drug problem by the time she was just 16. Tila often talks about the one room she shared with her family and the poverty they endured in her native Texas. But then then things changed. Tila was spotted at a car show and recruited as a model by a talent scout from California. She rose to fame not as much as a Phoenix, but a slow burning rumour. And then came the internet.
“Haters” are a phenomenon that seem to come with internet celebrity. “Famous for being famous” seems to be tantamount to drawing a bullseye on your ass and screaming "Lock and Load!" to the thousands who feel the receiver of such fame is undeserved and unworthy. Nguyen seems to be in the sights of those “haters” and boy are the ready to aim and fire.
What brings on such rage? What could stir such ire onto a 4 foot 10 waif of a thing whose only crime seemed to be her utter lack of viable talent? Even Paris Hilton gets a pass, and I think it is safe to say her talent is pouting in the right direction at the right time. And with no sex tape to her name, how bad could she be?
Enter Casey Johnson.
Casey Johnson, the deceased heir to the Johnson and Johnson fortune was a Hollywood scene favourite. Not ever truly famous herself, she would continually sit on the cusp of the infamous. She rejected and then regretted the Nicole Ritchie half of the Paris Hilton reality show, The Simple Life. She cavorted and partied and dressed like a star, sadly in her nadir she imploded.
Like many children born to privileged families, Casey seemed to be an oxymoron. She had it all and equally, she had nothing. In the last days of her life she was virtually broke, and had little contact with her family. Her adopted daughter was taken from her by her own mother as it became clear that Casey could not care for Casey, much less a vulnerable child . Rumours of drug use were rife and many of her friends were unsurprised by her passing whilst suffering a diabetic coma. Unsurprised does not in any case mean saddened and mournful at the loss of a ostensibly lovely and loved young women. Lovely, but deeply troubled.
And Tila Tequila loves trouble. She states in her MySpace profile that she is “drawn to fucked up people”. And it seems that at the end of her life, Casey was as fucked up as they come. They met in Los Angeles and both reported to initially dislike each other intensely. Tila was an outsider, a reality star, not to the manor born.
Although Casey was not officially “out”, her bisexual tendency's led her to the door of Courtenay Semel, another heir to the throne of a powerful family and a childhood friend. Courtenay is the self reported Don Juan of the Lesbian world, and seems to have had her fingers in a lot of dramatic pots. Even in the pot of Tila Tequila at one point.
Semel and Johnson carried on a rather passionate and sometime vicious relationship. Courtenay allegedly even went as far as setting Casey's hair on fire in a more volatile argument. At one point, (and my research cannot pinpoint exactly when) Tila and Casey seem to hook up after another dramatic fall out with Semel. Some speculate that the coupling was a revenge tactic, as Semel is reported to dislike Tila like some of us dislike stepping in dog mess.
Johnson and Tequila were a recipe for disaster.
In late November of 2009, after less then a month as a couple,Casey and Tila made appearances and statements announcing their engagement to the world. In the live stream on Tila's website, one can see that Casey is unwell. She looks drawn yet overdone in a caricature of make-up and trashy underwear. She barley speaks as Tila rambles on about canary diamonds, being “wifey” to an heiress and having babies. Tila becomes a Machiavellian figure, prompting Casey when her eyes seems to become unfocused and her head too heavy for her shoulders. It is heartbreaking to watch. But to my shame, watch I did.
Around Christmas,2009, the downfall of Tila Nguyen is set in stone as days and days of sleepless and incoherent Tweets start to rain down on us. Tila claims she is going to Texas without her “wifey” to see her family, and in the visit she is to become a surrogate mother for her brothers unborn child. She flies out of LA and days later amongst hundreds of irrational Twitter updates Tila announces to the world that Casey Johnson is dead. The Johnson family had yet a breath to take in the face of this unthinkable and tragic outcome. But Twitter knows.
Most of us find the death of a partner unthinkable and utterly ghastly. Most of us also deal with these kinds of tragedies in private. But this is a Tila Special.
After the death of Casey, Tila becomes more and more bizarre. Her tweets, blogs and web streams range from Tila being the future ambassador to Vietnam, to being pregnant by a man she describes a war hero, then back to her brother's surrogate, then veers left to a mixed race sperm donor. She announces she will sign you, YES YOU, to her record label,is an angel of God, and then calls herself Jane in the third person. She dances with guns her mouth, makes a promise to adopt an orphan in Russia, and then decides she is not a lesbian at all and is going to marry her “baby daddy”.
Amongst all of this clear and present mental health crisis, bloggers start to assassinate her character. They set up pages to defame and disparage Tila. They call her a paedophile, a fame whore, a disgusting pig. They speculate on her recent trip to Australia. Did she fly first class? They call her a pathological liar. Is she pregnant at all? They screen capture her infamous televised bathroom rants, comparing her tummy to women at her same claimed gestation. They simply hate her.
Tila is clearly disturbed. One look down the rabbit hole and it is apparent someone has been having a go at the “Drink Me” potion. In the reality of the reality show of her life, I suspect she has a personality disorder of such great proportion that she is now delusional and in the fight of her life. Her need for attention is compelling because I imagine that the 300,000 people that follow her on Twitter simply can't get enough of the pop corn of her breakdown. If Tila Tequila is so compelling in her destruction, I also wonder what has happened to our compassion. Many people have to live with mental illness and never get the chance to ask for help, yet it seems to me that with every Tweet, Tila is begging to be loved, asking to be saved, imploring the Universe embrace her shattered sense of self.
Sadly, the medium through which she communicates this desire ultimately fails her. It seems that even her assistant and management seems to collude with her undoing.
I sincerely hope that Tila gets her wish. Her fractured demons seem stronger then the angel she so desperately wants to be.

