now i’mma do this real quick, ya’ll. because you know we have been here before so rumors about people’s sex lives are pretty much old hat to us, non?
today: ET and MR. conveniently, both 5′ 2″ (ish) [though do not quote me on that because i’m going on memory. this is a factoid i have not looked up. ET may have been 5’1″… or was that princess margaret? never mind. JASON PRIESTLY IS 5′!!!! see this is what happens when i write a blog post after 6 p.m.]
as janet malcolm writes in the silent woman, her MASTERPIECE of biographical criticism, the biographer is “like the professional burglar, breaking into a house, rifling through certain drawers that he has good reason to think contain the loot and money, and triumphantly bearing his loot away.”
i’ve been thinking about life-writing in terms of stealing quite a lot in the fortnight since andrew o’hagan spoke at the conference a colleague and i organized up in oxford on life-writing and celebrity. o’hagan’s question was whether our stories actually belong to us. it is a question to which i would answer wistfully but firmly: no.
(a discussion that i will primarily illustrate with random photos from sarah jessica parker’s instagram, because i’ve recently become obsessed with celebrity instagrams and because ❤ …)
jackie evades me. i’ve been writing about her for ten years and she has never seemed so unclear as now.
this is obvious in my work lately, wherein everyone around her seems vividly alive, jockeying to the forefront as she gets pushed further and further away, into the background, OF HER OWN LIFE. Continue reading →