To share a little further: I read the articles. Yeah, that's right. Cover to cover, baby.
In tabloid-glossy world this is akin to admitting you look at the pictures in Playboy. Actually, it's probably worse. I haven't kept up since college, and I spent most of every Women's Lit. class dodging invisible flaming arrows and generally trying to disappear into my chair, but I vaguely remember discussions about being in a neo-liberal post modern feminist era ... or something of that nature. Translated loosely, I think it means that it's PC for men to admit they get Playboy for the articles and the pictures. It's some new kind of sociably acceptable and preferred norm.
Disclaimer: I could be dead wrong on this. Remember, I was preoccupied with invisible flaming arrows and such ... which, come to think of it, may have to do with the above interpretation ... maybe.
Anyway, back to the point:
With celebrity gossip glossies, no one gets them for the articles. No One.
I mean, they do, they just don't admit it. If you actually find someone that cops to a tabloid habit, they'll insist it's only for the pictures. Apparently it's still taboo to admit that you actually spend intellectual man-hours on what equates to literary smut.
I don't know why I read the articles. To venture a psychoanalytic guess it probably has something to do with ego and self-worth in the sometimes grim world of being a writer. You can always turn to tabloids for comfort and say, "at least I don't write this bad most of the time*."
They really are just awful - stick your face in a cave full of porcupines awful. And because of them, with a post-party hangover and an inner lit. critic wrestling me to the mat every time I dared to even think about writing a recap of The Party to End All Parties, a serious bout of blog-block ensued.
A party recap? I can't write that. It's so, you know, US Magazine. It makes me prickle to even entertain the idea of something that might turn out like...
The V.I.P. Party Scene
Michelle and Andrew's Engagement Bash - May 29th
It was guest-list only for Michelle and Andrew's exclusive fete at underground celebrity hot-spot, Equator Books. Doors opened at nine and the party was in full swing by the ten-o-clock hour.
Bold and beautiful revelers sipped on Che Lager and Angel City IPA as well as an assortment of (semi-crappy) tannin delights from Bevmo! They rocked out to the likes of Datarock, Santigold and Crystal Castles off Michelle's Engagement Party Playlist and grooved to a live performance by LA rock n' roll phenoms Tom with the Weather.
(Ryan, Tom, Beej and Daniel of Tom with the Weather)Band groupie, JK, cozied up to Tony Spatafora (minister to the stars) while her on-again off-again flame and Tom with the Weather guitarist, Ryan Nosker, jammed on his Stratocaster.
(JK getting hot and scandalous with the Minister, natch)The strictly-liquid menu caused many a make-out session as happy-go-lucky party people caved to their hedonistic urges. Namely, my future wife...
(Michelle noshing on Andrew's face in lieu of dinner)Many a guest took pause from the bacchanal delights to pose for revered shutterbug, Tertius Bune. He deftly captured the party, the players and the frolicking mood of this Midsummer Night's Dream.
(A-listers strike a pose)
(Sans children, the Gogolewski/Wyffels crew exercise their celebratory gene)After the last drops of lager poured, hugs all around, and a bum rush for cabs on Abbot Kinney, the doors were finally locked near 3 a.m.
(Zoe 'I don't get hangovers' Maas bids adieu)The other guy in the picture - that's me. Pointing at you, saying thank you for tuning in.
For those that couldn't make it. We missed you. Now you have an abridged and saccharine understanding of what went down.
For those that attended. Thank you. It was a special evening, indeed.
And now, I'm done. It's all the tabloid recap I can take.
*Unless someone is paying me. Then I will write anything. Good or bad - don't care. Anything.
