My friend Robin said “Can you follow up your cute first post with one about how you want Cat Marnell to die?” and this is me obliging.
Firstly, I don’t actually want her to die. I just think she is the fucking pits. If you haven’t read her stuff, don’t. I’m not linking you to it, it’s not worth it. And I read a lot of shit. I even read the Daily Mail sometimes. What is with people today/my lame generation/young-privileged-peer-group with wanting to read about how so verrrrry fucked up someone is? I understand morbid fascination, but could we pick a better subject please? A 30 year old anorexic blonde girl who is slowly killing herself with crack and adderral, acknowledges this yet REFUSES to get help, is the most depressing uncool thing and SHE CAN’T EVEN WRITE
Every time I hear someone say they like it and that it’s “brutally honest” and “beautifully ugly” or whatever other r’tarded shit people say, I always inwardly roll my eyes and think “I fucking knew it”. It’s always the same kind of girl. ALWAYS. Anyway my friend put it better so I’ll just repost what she said:
Ok I think I’ve figured it out, it’s a trifecta:
1. Some people pay attention because they genuinely like her, probably because they secretly think that drug addiction is *glamorous*. Probably also care way too much about Terry Richardson. Most likely also the kind of people that describe themselves as “self-destructive” – like “blah blah I have problems that are entirely of my own making” just to make up for the fact that they have nothing interesting to say.
2. People who are even bigger losers than above because they don’t actually like her but are just following the crowd/trying to write fluff pieces about things that are trending.
3. People who are so dumbfounded that anyone would give a shit that it makes them give a shit because they are so annoyed at above.
I guess I’m a category three. Sigh. Anyway this is a celebration of sorts, because she posted today about how she’s going to stop writing about her horrible drug lyf and ended it thus:
“But it’s not bad, you guys. And I’m crying when I’m writing this, because I feel so stupid and embarrassed, because I was so, so ashamed of who I was for so, so long. I know I am all popular now, but God, you guys, for years I didn’t have any friends. But you know what—it’s not bad to be different. To be so weird and to love getting speedy and to be chaotic and to love taking notes and copying poems and sleep with pictures of Sid Vicious above your bed. I collected drug baggies and I couldn’t help it; I still love them and all the patterns. I bought them on Ebay. I liked to starve myself and if I had to go to sleep with a man at 1:00 AM I was so miserable. But it was and is OK: it’s just a different life. It’s just different.”
It’s totally OK guys :-/. Anyway, Hallelujah and good riddance (and just to be clear, I mean good riddance to her stupid VICE articles, not to her life).
P.S. Sorry for being a bitch
This is my first post. I’ve put off making a blog because I hate the word blog/blogger and I know that when I started one it would inevitably end up being all about myself, and I like to at least pretend that I’m not a total dick who thinks I’m the centre of the universe.
But here we are!
Up until December my posting will probably be pretty sporadic.
I planned to start this when I moved to New York City from little old New Zealand in December, giving people a
hopefully uplifting insight into what it’s like for a huge cry-baby to move on their own to one of the busiest and most intimidating cities in the world, all the while trying not to complain too much and have a sense of humour about everything. But I figured starting it now would be a good way to practise the habit of writing regularly and even just practise my writing in general.
SO. From time to time I will post little stories if I think they’re worth telling, things that I think are really cool that I want to remember or share, and some details about prepping my mind and my life for a move to the other side of the world.