tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59338272011-12-14T21:38:15.074-05:00"Mommy, am I famous yet?"Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comBlogger3441100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-76146980380726405842008-05-03T19:36:00.004-04:002008-05-03T20:19:15.485-04:00

Here is the kind of conversation I've been having on a regular basis, for the past year, with everyone I encounter."So you're what, a senior? A junior?"A junior, I guess. Yeah."Cool. So you'll be graduating in...2009?"No. I'm actually leaving USC this summer."Ooh, you're graduating early?"Um...you could say that, I guess."Huh?"Well, I'm not graduating, per se."Oh, so you're transferring."No.

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-89854289787987446022008-04-19T20:18:00.003-04:002008-04-19T20:20:19.306-04:00

I've created a new blog! Don't worry, avenueF isn't going anywhere -- but the world had such a profound need for this new blog, I decided to step up to the plate and perform this service. You can thank me later. For now, I proudly present to you:Verlyn Klinkenborg, In Summary

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-37424996338431710482008-04-08T23:48:00.004-04:002008-04-09T00:01:59.250-04:00

How lovely it would be to go to France!I hear they don't have TV screens in their carsor churches -- even megachurches like Notre Dame!-- and you can get away, basically, with peeingon the street, and they show boobs sometimeseven in commercials! Famous people maybego to France. If I saw one over there,I'd text you.Oh! am I too youngto meet Napoleon?and if not, am I too oldto kneel?

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-79109887588955279892008-03-26T20:03:00.005-04:002008-03-28T03:27:06.195-04:00

When Sherman and I got off the plane, the first thing we saw in the Maui airport was an oyster stand.I'd seen one of these seven months ago, at the Fishermen's Wharf in San Francisco. A woman stands behind a counter, displaying a bowl of live oysters in water. Upon your request, she takes one of the oysters out, smashes it with a mallet, and pulls out a pearl for you! A real pearl! For an

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-35703199506595847042008-02-14T03:17:00.003-05:002008-02-14T03:28:13.742-05:00

Why coconut? complained your grandma, whenthe restaurant’s on-the-house surprise was cakewhich wasn’t to her taste, and which I ate.Well, Grandma, Grandpa, don’t you know? you joked—Sixty is the coconut anniversary.Imagine, sixty years! It took us only twoto have South Central’s streets all strewn with whatyou call debreeze and I call DETritusof what we’d once assumed would stay intact:the yellow

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-19247968544237353842008-01-15T20:42:00.000-05:002008-01-15T22:25:43.316-05:00

I had been assigned an aisle seat, but I hadn't given up hope yet. Last May, when I flew back to New York from L.A., I agreed to trade seats with a man who wanted to sit with his wife, and my new seatmate practically begged me to take his window seat. (I like to think he was afraid of heights.) So I knew I could still get lucky.I boarded the plane to L.A., sat down in seat 32B, and pulled out

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-28253583613753275202007-12-30T23:23:00.000-05:002007-12-31T01:13:21.901-05:00

Best Movies of 2007:1. Across the Universe -- I was fully expecting this movie to be ridiculous, and I went to see it (it was my first outing in my new car) anticipating a fascinating trainwreck. Instead, it swept me away. I don't care what anybody else says: Across the Universe was the most complete cinematic experience I had in 2007. Whoever complains about its thin plot or underdeveloped

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-83943586596082989332007-11-30T15:53:00.001-05:002007-11-30T16:04:44.380-05:00

I'd hate it if there were no posts for the entire month of November, so at the last minute, here are some recent photos (mostly taken by Shapiro) to tide us over.Sebastian:Little Edie Bouvier:And me, driving her:

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-68445525049294330282007-10-30T00:32:00.000-04:002007-10-30T02:14:01.958-04:00

When I got my car, I knew. It came to me quite naturally. The car, I realized quickly, wasn't an end in itself: it was a means to an end, and that end could be whatever I liked. What did I like? What did I want?It was like a window had opened in my heart. Sunlight poured in and illuminated something I had known all along: I wanted a bird. I wanted a cockatiel.I knew it even before the car

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-18641973728410902312007-10-24T01:47:00.001-04:002007-10-24T02:53:43.660-04:00

I don't know why, but I recently remembered this.I was about fifteen or sixteen; my cousin Anya must have been about three or four -- at that stage where we could have a conversation as I pushed her around in her stroller. We were at the fair, in Connecticut. Her parents must have been there too, but for some reason, there was an interval during which Anya and I were left alone together. It

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-82856134551160644772007-10-10T21:38:00.000-04:002007-10-10T22:57:35.227-04:00

As people never cease to remind me, it's illegal to drive a car without insurance, at least in L.A. I knew it was an urgent matter, but I figured it wouldn't be smart to buy car insurance before my car was properly registered -- heck, the damn thing didn't even have license plates yet! But because of Columbus day, and then because of a busy class schedule, it was a few days before I could make

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-81740962050925075822007-10-08T22:52:00.000-04:002007-10-09T03:35:36.644-04:00

I'm not sure when it occurred to me that I should get a car. Maybe it was that afternoon I spent lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, experimenting with scratching out a freckle on my arm using nail clippers, the minutes turning to hours as day turned to night. Maybe it was that Saturday I decided to take an invigorating walk around the neighborhood -- five minutes into it, as I trudged

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-42497755531643546292007-09-29T00:09:00.001-04:002007-09-29T00:10:38.642-04:00

Now that the essays are posted, I guess I can finally make it public: I'm one of four runners-up in the New York Times College Essay Contest.Here's mine.

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-65389303890458781352007-09-27T01:22:00.000-04:002007-09-27T01:31:14.778-04:00

“Can you,” I asked, all half-asleep, “do you,like, ever find yourself in—not a dream,but can you close your eyes and sort of seemto travel to a place you want to go?Someplace you’ve been before—” He answered, “No.”He said, “I figure problems out, instead.”“Big problems?” “No—like puzzles in my head.”And then he rambled on about how glass,when shatterproofed, forms interlocking squares,and how,

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-6753309659351887072007-09-07T21:35:00.000-04:002007-09-07T23:04:56.669-04:00

It feels funny to say that I'm in crisis right now. I always expected that any personal crisis of mine would be a big showy affair (The Weltschmerz Follies of 2007), weepy and violent and terrifying, brought on by one of those life events too dreadful to contemplate specifically (death, disease, heartbreak) -- or, worse yet, by a purely chemical fluke in my brain. And I thought it would happen

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-80780940008675188792007-08-30T01:14:00.001-04:002007-08-30T01:17:02.188-04:00

My new textbook opens like this:Before we begin, it is important to consider why you should care about this topic. Many of you will be working through this book as a requirement for an undergraduate class in biological anthropology and will read the book in order to earn a good grade. As instructors of a class like this ourselves, we approve of this motive. However, there is a much better

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-33052256798769909352007-08-27T23:57:00.000-04:002007-08-28T00:03:26.848-04:00

Before leaving for L.A., I decided that the transition might be a little less painful if I made a list of the things that L.A. had and New York lacked. Here is what I came up with:1. Good Mexican food2. Bougainvillea3. Wild parrots4. ShermanIt wasn't a very long list. Since returning to L.A., though, I've managed to remember a few more items to add it:5. Hummingbirds6. A climate that flatters

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-87536097188084269782007-07-19T23:16:00.000-04:002007-07-20T00:05:13.198-04:00

I had dinner with Puck tonight. Over sushi and ice cream, we brought each other up to date on our respective gossip, purchases, and significant others; then we walked through the West Village toward Union Square. Along the way -- I was wearing the little white mod dress I bought in Paris, while he wore a Reason T-shirt and Ferragamo loafers -- Puck pointed out the couture on the passersby. So

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-19272059240656470742007-07-17T22:19:00.000-04:002007-07-17T22:36:48.791-04:00

To ease LK's transition on her first day back in New York after a year in Paris, I had her over for dinner tonight. Afterward, we got on the topic of my mom's wedding dress."It was hideous," I told her. "Picture the Platonic ideal of a hideous wedding dress -- that's what my mom was wearing."My mom pouted. "I hated that dress," she said."Then why did you buy it?" asked LK."You always fall in

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-70239537108679781152007-06-30T20:44:00.000-04:002007-06-30T21:58:22.343-04:00

Apparently, before I arrived to baby-sit my cousin Anya the other day, Anya took her mother aside. "Mom," she said, "you won't believe what happened to Frankie the other day." She related an anecdote I'd told her about a traumatic babysitting experience I'd had with another kid, at the end of which I'd been slightly underpaid. I hadn't realized that Anya would retain this story. "So anyway,"

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-31954152746889913152007-06-07T19:34:00.000-04:002007-06-07T19:56:49.402-04:00

I was walking home from work today -- minding my own business, tastefully dressed, humming "Someone in a Tree" from Pacific Overtures -- when a wicked man rode up beside me on a bicycle."Daaaamn," he said. He was Hispanic and had an accent that was almost cartoonishly Speedy Gonzalez. Drawing his words out exaggeratedly, he yelled out to me, "That is one beeeaauuutiful lady!"He leered at me,

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-52305159868609935882007-06-06T14:11:00.000-04:002007-06-06T15:03:59.010-04:00

This morning, my three co-workers and I sneaked out of the Rodgers & Hammerstein office to go watch the 21st Annual Stars in the Alley, a free outdoor concert in the Schubert Alley. We got there as early as we could, but even so the alley was so crowded by the time we got there that we couldn't see the stage.With Sam, the spitfire, leading the way, we wriggled our way through the crowd until we

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-20554584009895958602007-05-31T22:03:00.000-04:002007-05-31T23:06:36.598-04:00

(Illustrated by Sherman's friend Vince; special thanks to the girl whose Interactive Media thesis project this was.)Mr. Darcy drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien; and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-29556088690217080262007-05-03T20:24:00.000-04:002007-05-03T20:49:09.603-04:00

Now that I'm finally halfway done with college, I can show you what I've been doing all semester! Below are my two magnum opi.290 #4 -- "L'Ile de la Cité" This film was among those selected to represent my class in the USC archives. I shot it in Paris, with LK and her friend Victor, and it's definitely my favorite 290. In some ways it was my easiest, because neither LK nor Victor had ever

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-28760784642903566482007-04-27T22:17:00.000-04:002007-04-29T00:13:38.869-04:00

I was in a bit of a pickle on 4/20. Within the next two weeks, I'd have to shoot and edit my last-ever 290. I'd have to write a 10-page paper on the gender politics of Bound, and then I had to write another 10-page paper on the gender politics of comedy. I had to catch up on other work I'd missed thoughout the semester, and then I had to take finals.On top of all that, I had agreed to edit

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-44370220644509323962007-04-11T21:49:00.000-04:002007-04-11T21:56:55.028-04:00

Jon: "Sherman, I don't know what is wrong with you, but I just saw Memoirs of a Geisha and it SUCKED."Sherman: "What?! How can you say that?"Jon [mocking]: " 'I'm the best prostitute!' 'No, I'M the best prostitute!' That was basically the whole story."Sherman: "Well, so what? What's wrong with that story?"Jon: "It's disgusting! It's reprehensible and it shouldn't be glamorized! Women aren't

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-30653052653648488402007-04-02T21:28:00.000-04:002007-04-02T22:27:03.610-04:00

"Oh, man," said Adam on Saturday night, when I told him I'd just signed the lease for my house next year. "Did you get the Bridget treatment?"The real estate in the USC area is completely monopolized by a select few companies, so it wasn't too surprising that he and I were renting from the same one. But it was amusing to learn that the flighty but deceptively hardcore Bridget is a legendary

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-91982718504663254182007-03-23T02:59:00.000-04:002007-03-23T03:03:03.334-04:00

SCENE: Sherman's car. Sherman and I are arguing over which radio station to listen to; they're all playing terrible songs."Let's listen to classical music," he suggests. "That's always inoffensive.""Except for Stravinsky's Rite of Spring," I say, quickly thinking of the one exception. Probably the only historical example of classical music causing mass rioting.Sherman turns to the classical

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-27091248372847286462007-03-17T23:56:00.000-04:002007-05-01T16:33:59.533-04:00

1. Paris is exactly how you imagine it will be.Before I moved to L.A., I had a very clear image of it in my head -- cobbled together from movies, TV, Francesca Lia Block novels, and general clichés with which I'm sure everyone is familiar. Then, of course, I actually moved there, and it was ugly and banal and crushingly different from what I'd envisioned. LK put it best:"I had always dreamed of

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1172997222724691772007-03-04T02:59:00.000-05:002007-03-04T14:07:45.813-05:00

Yesterday morning, Max and I went to take a tour of the house we'll be living in next year. Yes, I somehow managed to wrangle up a housing situation consisting almost entirely of Interactive Media people -- two girls, two dudes, and me -- but truly, I struck gold with it."It belongs to a professor," explained one of the girls when she first described it to me, "so overall it's in better

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1172735136280769962007-03-01T02:10:00.000-05:002007-03-01T02:48:59.300-05:00

(Part 1)Last weekend, in a fit of pique, I created this Facebook group......knowing I would forever be the only member:Satisfied, I congratulated myself on my wit and soon forgot all about it....until last night, when I received this mysterious message......from this mysterious man......at this mysterious institution:P.S. I feel the need to defend Hitler, as I resent being compared unfavorably to

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1171960842794501002007-02-20T01:55:00.000-05:002007-02-20T22:40:31.413-05:00

Last weekend Mike declared, "I seriously need to get out of L.A. Even for just one night.""Me too," said Sherman. "Let's camp out at Joshua Tree next weekend!""Can I come?" I said."No," he said sarcastically.I was excited. It had been so long since I'd really been away from civilization. I'd never been to Joshua Tree before; in fact, I'd never had a chance to get to know the real California

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1171510669552237762007-02-14T22:35:00.000-05:002007-02-14T22:45:08.023-05:00

At some point -- I don’t know when --Our love, once celluloid, becameMore like a DVD, and thenMore like a video game.I guess it doesn’t grieveThe way it could,And yes, it does,More than it should.But if I wanted to leave,I would.

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1170066793412328562007-01-29T03:50:00.000-05:002007-01-30T17:04:27.296-05:00

It took us forever to get to IHOP yesterday morning because there was a war protest. It was a strange day: almost solid gray, surrounded by those colorless downtown skyscrapers with the sky on the verge of rain and Regina Spektor's gray song "Fidelity" playing on Jon's car stereo. All the roads downtown were blocked off, and Jon was beginning to exhibit those apoplectic rage-twitches of his,

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1169009738682133362007-01-16T20:37:00.000-05:002007-01-19T20:45:51.853-05:00

It doesn't take long here to learn the lingo of USC film school. For example, I learned fairly quickly to say "School of Cinema-Television" instead of "film school." (And now I'm eagerly un-learning it, since they just changed it to "School of Cinematic Arts" -- much more refined-sounding in my ears.) I embarrassed myself early on in my freshman year by telling an upperclassman that I was

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1167460709664292082006-12-30T01:29:00.000-05:002006-12-31T15:47:36.940-05:00

Best Movies of 2006:1. Idiocracy -- For some reason, Fox wanted this movie to fail. It didn't advertise it, it didn't screen it for critics, and it pulled it from theaters after a week or so. This is mystifying, since it advertised Borat to death, and Idiocracy is a far superior satire of America: I've never seen anything else that so accurately portrays life in a culture driven by corporate

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1166670171180905802006-12-20T20:43:00.000-05:002006-12-20T22:04:35.836-05:00

1. No matter where I go, I will never see snow.Apparently this was the first time in Omaha history that there was no snow at this time of year. No snow in New York, either. I haven't seen snow in literally years.2. Downtown Omaha is surprisingly hip.In an e-mail, I tried to describe downtown Omaha to Shapiro: "It looks a lot like downtown New York, sort of like where I live, I mean not Chelsea,

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1165902490160766312006-12-12T00:45:00.000-05:002006-12-12T00:48:10.183-05:00

Then enter my contest to make Christopher Hitchens laugh! (Sorry, no boys allowed.)Seriously, I've been offered a book deal if I get substantial results. Besides, who doesn't want to stick it to Christopher Hitchens? All my witty and intelligent female readers, I'm counting on you!

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1165313661651978632006-12-05T01:33:00.000-05:002006-12-11T14:23:39.266-05:00

Last Sunday, in another one of my increasingly frequent "Oh my god I'm turning into my mother" moments, I did some voiceover work. It was for a video game.The game was the senior thesis project of one of Sherman's fellow Interactive Media majors, whom I'd met at a party. The object of the game was to convert mall shoppers to a religious cult, and I voiced two major roles: the blissed-out

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1164235483124070312006-11-22T17:26:00.000-05:002006-11-23T16:29:10.990-05:00

My cousin Anya is seven years old and a million times more sophisticated than I will ever be.Most New York kids are precociously sophisticated, but Anya is really something else. She's chosen her own clothes since she was old enough to point, she plays Bach minuets on the piano, and I hear that she's lately exhibited a talent for coming up with captions for that awful weekly New Yorker Cartoon

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1162872126002750562006-11-06T23:01:00.000-05:002006-11-06T23:15:26.933-05:00

It was a surprise to both of us on Sunday morning when the condom broke.It was so unexpected that for a moment we didn't even know how to react. We saw the damage. We blinked. We looked up at each other. We looked back down, in case everything was okay and we'd just made a mistake. But there was certainly no mistake. Or, rather, there was a mistake. There was THE mistake."Whoa," I said."Um

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1162262832627837802006-10-30T21:38:00.000-05:002006-10-30T21:47:12.646-05:00

Now that I'm officially a Gender Studies minor, I'm lucky enough that Professor Pussywillow has begun sending me mass e-mails like this one:"Carol Adams: The Pornography of Meat"Presented by Women's Student AssemblyThursday, November 9th 6-8pm, THH 202Vegan Post Reception catered by Leaf CuisineProminent feminist author and speaker Carol Adams presents her infamous Sexual Politics of Meat Slide

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1161417222693019792006-10-21T03:39:00.000-04:002006-10-21T03:54:52.433-04:00

My second contribution to the Huffington Post!The title ("The Children Are Our Future, But What Is In Their Sordid Past?") is Shapiro's, and let me tell you, it took us FOREVER to come up with it. My working title was "Sex With Children: How Much Is Too Much?"I asked her if she dared me to use it for real. I just thought it would be so funny to see it on the Fearless Voices page, right next to

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1161230425005859532006-10-18T22:24:00.000-04:002006-10-19T00:08:54.063-04:00

Ever since last year, I've been fantasizing about registering for an academic minor in Gender Studies. I bite the bullet: it's time.I have a little trouble finding the Gender Studies department, which is tucked way in the back of the top floor of the all-purpose Humanities building. The hallway is narrow and windowless, but the CLUNK, CLUNK of my new leather clogs echoes through it

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1160542318745625392006-10-10T23:15:00.000-04:002006-10-11T03:38:24.583-04:00

Do you know what my high school yearbook prediction was?Dream:Great American NovelReality:avenueF.blogspot.comOn Friday afternoon, I trudged homeward from my Spanish midterm and absentmindedly turned my cell phone back on. It beeped; I had one new voicemail. Probably Sherman. Thank God my phone was off, I thought, imagining the humiliation of getting a call in the middle of the test. This was

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1159252581589592052006-09-26T02:33:00.000-04:002006-09-27T00:28:35.746-04:00

When I was in the third grade, it was considered really cool to like math.Only in retrospect does this strike me as weird. In fact, as I look back, the entire subculture of girls in my third-grade class was pretty weird. You were cool if you were good at math, cut your hair short, and wore boys' clothes; you were a pathetic loser if you dressed like a girl, listened to the radio, or acted like

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1157844593668037472006-09-09T17:46:00.000-04:002006-09-09T20:19:29.446-04:00

I quit the Big Game Hunters as soon as I got back to USC.I hadn't intended to quit. Over the summer, Sherman had called me in New York to tell me his decision -- "I'm quitting Big Game Hunters" -- and I'd just rolled my eyes. This was probably just another one of those dramatic statements he loved to make ("I'm getting Bob Odenkirk to come to our next show." "I'm installing a hot tub in the

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1156834054426937372006-08-28T19:36:00.000-04:002006-08-29T02:47:34.546-04:00

Back in July, when he was in L.A. and I was still in New York, Sherman hiked to a waterfall and would not shut up about it."I have to go back there, with you," he would say, on the phone or on the Internet. "You have to see this place.""Okay.""It's paradise," he said. "It's magical.""What's it like?""I can't even describe it," he said."Well, I'll try to imagine it.""No, you can't imagine it!""

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1156064386724369082006-08-20T03:02:00.000-04:002006-08-22T19:17:17.066-04:00

"Hey, Frankie?" said Carrie yesterday morning."Yes, roomie?" I said, swallowing a mouthful of French toast. Carrie had made me French toast, using a special family recipe that her grandfather had invented in the army. She had stood right there and stirred eggs and milk and cinnamon and vanilla into our big orange ceramic bowl, and then fried it all up on our gas stove; watching her, I swiveled

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1155097862204906412006-08-09T00:22:00.000-04:002006-08-10T01:00:35.813-04:00

(This entry is dedicated to Shapiro's mom, who was never far from my thoughts throughout this whole adventure.)***Of course I was going to spend this summer learning to drive. How could I not? I'm returning to L.A. whether I like it or not, and it's not just that I've learned my lesson about its public transportation (bus and subway alike) -- no, it's much more than that. It's a matter of

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1153846394586881102006-07-25T12:36:00.000-04:002006-07-25T18:56:46.890-04:00

[Somehow it's been a year since this and this, and, noticing this, I wrote this:]“Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and every spring cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and takes her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, to which he listens eagerly....and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1153338042199623692006-07-19T13:40:00.000-04:002006-07-21T16:34:56.440-04:00

On Monday night, Shapiro and I went to see an outdoor screening of Vincente Minelli's The Band Wagon on the lawn of Bryant Park.I'd seen it before, for my Classical Hollywood class, but I was glad to see it again and share it with Shapiro. It's basically Singin' in the Rain with Broadway instead of Hollywood, nice Fred Astaire instead of obnoxious Gene Kelly, sexy Cyd Charisse instead of bland

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1151728345111643062006-06-30T20:53:00.000-04:002006-07-01T22:11:34.283-04:00

Sherman flew out to visit me, and New York. He'd never been before."What's New York like?" he asked me once, way back before we were dating."Noisy," I said, "and very, very small."But I don't suppose my description prepared him sufficiently for the New York experience, because he wandered through his visit in a perpetual state of transcendental awe. "Look at this place!" he kept exclaiming,

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1150840282657794482006-06-20T17:51:00.000-04:002006-06-21T13:56:17.096-04:00

I am nineteen years old and until last night, I had never, ever been to any kind of athletic event in my whole life.I don't like sports, but this was a startling revelation even for me. First I realized, back in high school, that I had never attended any of my school's sports games. Then I realized that I'd never attended any other school's sports games, either. Then I realized, by process of

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1149738153568608612006-06-07T22:34:00.000-04:002006-06-07T23:43:29.980-04:00

Several months ago, you may recall, I was having a recurring nightmare in which my room was infested with cats. The dream was always the same: I'd be minding my own business when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I'd notice a gray, furry form slithering past. The next thing I knew, my room would be filled with gray cats.It was a pretty upsetting dream at the time, since I generally don't

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1148965750988130382006-05-29T22:31:00.000-04:002006-05-30T02:07:26.290-04:00

Two weeks ago, I spent two hours watching Veronica Mars with my four-year-old cousin, Anna.I was way into Veronica Mars at that point. Carrie had lent me her first-season DVDs to watch on the plane, and she'd gotten me hooked. I just had to know who killed Lilly Kane: the mystery was baffling, and everyone who followed the show (Carrie, Shapiro, Daria) assured me that the resolution would blow

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1147848398411842282006-05-17T00:05:00.000-04:002006-05-17T02:46:38.460-04:00

Ever since I got back to New York on Thursday night, I've been doing a lot of walking. I have to catch up on all the walking I couldn't do while I was living in L.A. this past year, and now it never ceases to amaze me how small New York is. Within an hour and a half I walk to Eighth Avenue, down to Horatio Street, east to Bleecker, down again to the NYU campus, up to Union Square and back home

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1146783964056889402006-05-04T18:31:00.000-04:002006-05-04T19:22:24.016-04:00

An actual e-mail I received on Tuesday night:Dear Ms. Thomas, I came across your blog by chance and felt compelled to contact you regarding what I find to be a wholly offensive, ignorant, and belittling piece of literature. The piece I'm referring to is the article, essay, or whatever it was that you wrote on Lil' Kim. I must say that it is quite obvious that you have no knowledge whatsoever of

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1146008153961973862006-04-25T19:31:00.000-04:002006-04-25T19:35:53.976-04:00

Puck just Instant Messaged me to tell me, "Yesterday the whole 11th grade went bowling together.""Ew," I said."And the principal bowled next to us," he said."Ew," I said."And we took on pseudonyms," he said. "So I was Nicole Richie, and Moonshine was Paris Hilton, etc.""What about the principal?" I asked."The principal," he said, "put hers in as Wilma Wetblanket."And that is why I blog.

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1145320948699699352006-04-17T19:17:00.000-04:002006-04-17T23:37:18.160-04:00

"What would you do," Sherman asked me last night, "if someone told you that you couldn't blog anymore?"I blinked. "What," I said, "like the blogging police?""No, it's just a mental exercise," he said. "I often wonder what I would do if I weren't allowed to edit film anymore. Well, I guess I'd write. But what would you do if you couldn't write?""Whoa." I tried to think. "I can't even...I

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1144373079573480142006-04-06T21:06:00.000-04:002006-04-06T21:27:25.506-04:00

College is great because it allows me to write the same pop-culture bullshit I've been writing on this blog for years, except now I have to be taken seriously. Below: my greatest academic accomplishment of the year. (Long-term readers will notice that it has its origins here.) Objectify this, Teacher!***Magic Clit:The Female Masculinity of the Notorious K-I-Mby Frankie Thomas“You wanna be this

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1143611056647038592006-03-29T00:03:00.000-05:002006-04-01T05:18:01.193-05:00

First of all: the Big Game Hunters have done a makeover on the Web site, and if you click here, you can watch short films of some of our sketches. I recommend Operator Error, because I wrote it; and The Worst Pool Party Ever, because it was our Ed Wood 24-Hour Short Film Festival submission. It's not ha-ha funny so much as vaguely haunting, but I like to think it has a kind of creepy loveliness

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1142905023557670262006-03-20T19:41:00.000-05:002006-03-22T21:17:03.753-05:00

A few days ago, when I was back in New York for spring break, my dad's ladyfriend visited and complained, "I'm so tired. I had to take my son Aidan to two Bat Mitzvahs today, one near here and one all the way in Brooklyn!""Oh, seventh grade," said my dad. "Frankie, remember when you were at the age where you had to go to a different Bat Mitzvah every week? Your friends were always trying to

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1141637783858960212006-03-06T01:35:00.000-05:002006-03-06T04:36:23.930-05:00

One month ago, during a Big Game Hunters meeting, Mike announced that he had written a new sketch and brought it in for a table reading."It's called 'Joygasm.' Let's see," he said, pretending to deliberate. "Frankie, why don't you be the girl...and the dude will be...how about...Sherman."He distributed two copies and we took them, with some trepidation. Sherman and I were not involved yet, but

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1141021536091206742006-02-27T01:07:00.000-05:002006-02-28T17:53:26.360-05:00

Rather than study for my Spanish midterm, I spent this evening Instant Messaging with Sherman. We complained about the New Yorker (the cartoon caption contests are obliquely unfunny, and the poetry is inscrutable), and we observed that the phrase "hoist by my own petard" has been haunting me lately (I have encountered it five times, in five different contexts, in the past two days alone)."If you

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1140574578304427242006-02-21T20:44:00.000-05:002006-02-21T21:16:18.350-05:00

Today in my stupid required college-essay-writing class, Teacher announced that our next essay topic would be marriage. Was it an institution whose sanctity was worth defending?"Let's start by defining it," she said. "What is marriage?"The girl sitting next to me, a shimmeringly pristine-looking sorority blonde with eye makeup as perfect as cake frosting, raised her hand and twittered: "It's,

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1140127826747534792006-02-16T16:37:00.000-05:002006-02-17T15:23:10.623-05:00

Last night I was trying to explain L.A. to Shapiro.I had mentioned an apartment that Carrie and I were looking at for next year -- "We'd have to drive to class," I said, "but I've already figured out how to get there by bus.""It's that fucking far?" said Shapiro."I don't think you understand how big L.A. is," I said."I don't," she agreed. "I consider walking two blocks a HUGE fucking hassle here

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1139201575986684902006-02-05T19:19:00.000-05:002006-02-05T23:52:56.046-05:00

That's the title of an actual book I spotted in the USC bookstore -- Women Who Make the World Worse: and How Their Radical Feminist Assault Is Ruining Our Schools, Families, Military, and Sports. (I like how "Sports" is last, as though its ruin is the most grievous assault of all.) On the cover is a blurb by Rush Limbaugh ("Know your enemy. Buy this gutsy book!") above ugly caricatures of Ruth

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1138761102612539152006-01-31T19:36:00.000-05:002006-01-31T21:32:16.173-05:00

Last Friday, Carrie wrote me an urgent e-mail:do you want to go into hollywood tonight or something? i have a terrible case of the mimi marquezes. you know, i need to go out tonight. i thought we could find the in 'n' out. the in 'n' out can be our heroin. I had to forsake her that night: I'd made a previous obligation to a family friend, a brilliant and renowned opera director who was briefly in

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1138167223018562722006-01-24T22:03:00.000-05:002006-01-25T03:10:16.960-05:00

Lately I've been having a recurring dream in which my dorm room is infested with cats.I've been having a lot of weird dreams lately. Last night I had a wonderful dream in which I had a car; the night before that, I dreamed that I grew a penis. It was a small one, modest and clitoral, grown as an addition to what was already down there; but only when I grew it could I finally let myself be

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1137723566363902442006-01-19T19:20:00.000-05:002006-01-19T21:19:26.426-05:00

I'm thinking about getting a gun. Why not? It's my Constitutional right. I just think I'd feel a lot safer if I carried a gun wherever I went -- not a huge one, it'd have to fit in the pockets of my trench coat along with my keys and my glasses and my silver cigarette case and my cell phone, but big enough so that people would take one look at it and know I meant business. It would be an

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1136947496668867492006-01-10T20:41:00.000-05:002006-01-10T21:44:56.736-05:00

Here's a story from a while back:Last spring, as long-term readers may recall, there was a scandal on avenueF -- let's call it the Woman of the Year fiasco. It was catalyzed by this entry and chronicled in the next -- a glorious high school drama, full of back-stabbing and sabotage and histrionics and public screaming catfights. It all made for great reading, and it was at this point in history

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1136012570806996272005-12-31T01:55:00.000-05:002005-12-31T18:39:02.126-05:00

I was hesitant to do the AFSAs again this year, since I'm at a FS college and more of my readers actually are FSs, making my usual bullshit less convincing. Still, the world needs to know, and so I gamely take on this task for a third time.Best Movies of 2005:Double Negative -- Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm biased in favor of this movie, just because I happened to write

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1134761391324964032005-12-16T12:01:00.000-05:002005-12-16T22:53:01.940-05:00

On Wednesday afternoon, I was standing in a Greenwich Village cheese store with my dad, admiring the expensive varieties of exotic cheese, when my cell phone started ringing hysterically. I knew who it was, and I knew I had to talk to him at some point, but I ignored it pointedly and focused on cheese. When it stopped ringing, I took it out to see if he'd left me a voicemail, and I noticed then

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1134595811585112342005-12-14T16:13:00.000-05:002005-12-14T16:30:11.633-05:00

You're probably all wondering how my date went, aren't you?Being modest, I shall refrain from sharing the details of the evening. Instead, I'll just re-print an essay I wrote for my Fiction-and-Essay class a year ago. The assignment was to write a memoir. I got an A on it, and its titillating nature made me a local celebrity for a week after I read it aloud in class. But I post it here now

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1133640154371378542005-12-03T13:08:00.000-05:002005-12-03T15:02:34.443-05:00

December 2nd: my second Big Game Hunters show. Also, what would have been my parents' wedding anniversary. Perhaps in subconscious honor of that, here is the only sketch I have written for the show:[Dressed in lingerie, I sit on a bed and write in a notebook.]Me: "Dear Diary -- Well, last night we finally went all the way. It was amazing, but I can already feel my commitment issues starting up

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1133245766314254792005-11-29T00:43:00.000-05:002005-11-30T02:03:50.746-05:00

See what I did there, with the title? It sounds maybe like a description of what I bathed in last week; instead it refers to no more than a haircut and a shopping trip. Thanks to chemical straightener and the Reminiscence thrift shop, I now sport an Aeon Flux hairdo and a Hugh Hefner smoking jacket.Oh, I was excited to come home for Thanksgiving, of course, but I didn't realize until I arrived

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1132015910748078942005-11-14T18:09:00.000-05:002005-11-14T19:51:50.813-05:00

PrologueOur story begins on Saturday night, as I was walking back to my room after a Big Game Hunters meeting.The meeting had been pretty gruesome. Altogether we had twenty-five sketches that we needed to cut down to twelve, so there was bound to be some bloodshed. I'd written three, out of which one ("Sketch Tragedy") had utterly tanked at the table reading; one ("Observing Scientologists in

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1131389886983667082005-11-07T13:13:00.000-05:002005-11-07T21:06:57.870-05:00

Last Tuesday, coming out of my Spanish class, I stepped outside and spotted something strange crumpled on the ground. It looked like a dead bird, but it was huge. I went over to inspect it.Sure enough, it was a bird, lying on its stomach with its head to one side and its eyes half-open. But it wasn't just any bird. It was a hawk."Oh my God!" said one of the girls from my Spanish class, coming

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1130643541367459462005-10-29T19:24:00.000-04:002005-10-30T01:17:53.526-05:00

SCENE: Backstage, ten minutes before the start of the Big Game Hunters show. Seven guys are changing their clothes around me, but I'm already dressed in my ridiculous first-scene costume of polyester snakeskin and cowboy boots, so I'm just leaning against the wall and listening to the murmuring audience through the curtain.Ben George comes up to me. "Excited about your first show?" he says

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1130464159164018102005-10-27T18:30:00.000-04:002005-10-27T21:49:19.303-04:00

Day and night have been hectic in the best way. The first Big Game Hunters show of the semester is tomorrow night, so we've been rehearsing our sketches madly for the past week. By "rehearsing," of course, I mean scribbling obscene words and doodles on the blackboard, and throwing paper airplanes and scripts and pencils and chalk and handmade confetti at each other's heads, and knocking over

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1130011428480842622005-10-22T14:44:00.000-04:002005-10-22T16:04:55.380-04:00

I never used to think so much about race and class before I got to L.A. But ever since I arrived here, I've found myself nearly obsessed. Every time I buy my morning coffee from the nice old Latina lady, overhear the university servers speaking Spanish to each other, fend off black panhandlers in the University Village, or come across those skinny white girls wearing designer jeans that scream

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1129188573988495742005-10-12T22:36:00.000-04:002005-10-13T03:46:46.880-04:00

When they publish the Cliffs Notes to my life, they will have a chapter called "A Thematic Look Into the Life of Frankie Thomas," which will point out the recurring themes in the life of Frankie Thomas:1. The relentless pursuit of celebrity2. Gay cowboys3. The fact that Frankie does not know how to driveNo, it's not that she doesn't have a car -- it's that she doesn't know how to drive. The

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1128567700195805792005-10-05T23:01:00.000-04:002005-10-05T23:01:40.206-04:00

Katie Holmes is with child, so I've given up trying to resist the apocalypse. Instead, I've been embracing change.Today I went out and bought some kickass accessories. Inspired by a friend of Marjorie's I'd met over the weekend, I decided to get rid of my big heavy leather wallet that weighs down my purse. To replace it, I bought a tiny, sleek, lightweight silver cigarette case. It is just

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1128389776414708382005-10-03T19:35:00.000-04:002005-10-03T21:42:36.846-04:00

It occurred to me today that in exactly seventeen months and one day, I will turn twenty and cease being a teenager forever. The revelation was so shocking, I nearly drove off the road.Ha ha, just kidding! I still don't know how to drive. Nor do I know how to pay a bill, book a flight, calculate a tip, light a cigarette, make coffee, give head, get from South Central to Venice Beach to

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1127184352968273862005-09-19T22:45:00.000-04:002005-09-20T02:43:12.336-04:00

Ten days ago, I was walking across the quad -- briskly, I remember, it was unseasonably chilly and gray that day -- when a guy ran up to me and thrust a flier into my hand."Please come to the Big Game Hunters sketch-comedy show tonight," he pleaded. "Please...we need money...and we're so alone...""Um, okay," I said. I had nothing better to do that evening. Maybe I could get Carrie to come with

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1127172713368256572005-09-19T18:33:00.000-04:002005-09-19T19:31:53.416-04:00

I had Divination homework over the weekend. Yes, like Harry Potter. This was for my Chinese Civilization class, in which we were studying the I Ching. Our assignment was to think of a question, throw the I Ching, and see how it answered our question. I considered asking it "Will I get to make out with a celebrity before Puck does?", but eventually chose to ask:"Should I drop out of college

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1126636864974502682005-09-13T10:51:00.000-04:002005-09-13T14:41:05.016-04:00

My roommate and I are in the throes of a vicious mind game.Normally, we don't have that many problems; our lifestyles have merged surprisingly well. For the past few nights, I've been glued to my computer, compulsively re-reading Annie Proulx's wrenching and sexual short story "Brokeback Mountain" (you can read it ">here) and compulsively re-watching the preview for the movie (you can watch it

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1126132723013711592005-09-07T16:34:00.000-04:002005-09-07T18:38:43.066-04:00

When they publish my literary biography, they will devote an entire chapter to the Internet correspondence between me and Puck. Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder: the e-mails we exchange now are bona fide epistles, long and detailed and wickedly funny. Last week, he wrote me to tell me, among other things, the following story:As i went school supply shopping yesterday, a woman and

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1125534948491776612005-08-31T18:05:00.000-04:002005-10-13T14:12:50.740-04:00

That was the name of USC's first-ever film course, taught by Douglas Fairbanks in 1929. According to the little informational placard outside the George Lucas Cinema-Television Building.USC was the first film school ever created, and to this day it's supposed to be the best. I was discussing this last night in with the girls on the Cinema floor. "You'd be surprised," said one of them, "how

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1125295121372970682005-08-28T21:10:00.000-04:002005-08-29T01:58:41.430-04:00

I'm already fantasizing about how I'm going to live next year.For starters, I am going get a car (somehow), and I am going to learn the hell how to drive. That's the first question anyone ever asks you around here:"Do you have a car?""No."[pause; then, incredulously] "Do you know how to drive?"I'm sick of explaining that, coming from New York City, I never needed to know how to drive. That's no

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1124746869462483392005-08-22T16:34:00.000-04:002005-09-06T00:39:24.570-04:00

A few days ago, there was a special assembly for all film majors. The department head made some speech that I tuned out of, and then she said, "Now, let's all give a warm welcome to [some guy whose name I didn't catch], the Industry Coordinator of the USC School of Cinema-Television. His Rolodex is sixty years old and weighs a hundred pounds!"We all applauded hesitantly at that strange

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1124491662296808052005-08-19T17:16:00.000-04:002005-08-19T18:49:31.946-04:00

And so here I am.The first two days were excruciating. I sobbed continuously throughout move-in day, begging my mom not to leave me; I thrashed around all night in my noisy, sweltering new dorm room and got maybe two hours of sleep between two and four A.M. We had a meeting for all the girls on my floor -- I've never seen so many tanned, blonde girls in one room before -- and we took a show of

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1124298714101091582005-08-17T12:28:00.000-04:002005-08-17T13:11:54.160-04:00

--My dad, on my imminent departure.Today's the day. Sometime within the next few hours, I will take a shower and put on my clothes and get in the car and become a real, live college student. I brought my eyeliner and my cowboy boots and my new Francesca Lia Block book; my mom brought my Velvet Goldmine DVD and my white patent-leather go-go boots and my new trench coat. What neither of us

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1123566992622273692005-08-08T21:44:00.000-04:002005-08-09T02:35:34.146-04:00

The reason I had to leave New York so early was because I wasn't going straight to L.A.; my dad and I are detouring north, to visit his sister. And now I say this as a diehard, lifelong New Yorker: San Francisco might be the most beautiful city in the world. It's wild and poetic and mythopoeic, almost enchanted. It makes me think of Hitchcock and China and Wuthering Heights and Eldorado,

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1123032090584016182005-08-02T18:43:00.000-04:002005-11-30T02:04:22.343-05:00

The other day, I got an e-mail from Puck:WHOA NIGGA,Is it fo'real that you leavin on mothafuckin FRIDAY? NIGGA NEGRO NIGG-R BLACKIE CHAN we gotta go out and sneak into the Hotel Gansevoort and go to Comme des Garçons at least one more time.~LV(He signs all his e-mails to me "~LV," mocking my signature "L, F." I asked him once what the LV stood for and he replied: "What brand of my liking can be

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1122266146244885062005-07-24T23:05:00.000-04:002005-07-25T11:19:31.076-04:00

Below, in no particular order: a series of vignettes from the past week or so.***Shapiro: "So, when are you leaving for California?"Me: [mumbles]Shapiro: "What?"Me: "August 5th."Shapiro: "What? Dude, that's--"Me: "Bitch, don't even."***Family Friend #1: "California, huh? That sure is far away."Me: "Yes, I know."Family Friend #1: "So, are you excited about college?"Me: "Oh, yes."***Rie and Puck

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1121914299366738902005-07-20T21:50:00.000-04:002005-07-21T15:31:36.806-04:00

[SCENE: Friday afternoon, July 15th, Sixth Avenue in the West Village. Frankie, Puck, and Shapiro have just seen and enjoyed "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"; gone to the Guess store in Soho where Puck bought a necklace; sat on the Union Square steps and re-enacted the Katie Holmes interview in "W" magazine with Frankie as Katie Holmes, Puck as the interviewer, and Shapiro as Jessica

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1121370377924795312005-07-14T14:51:00.000-04:002005-07-14T15:46:17.963-04:00

I am, George...I am.Last night I had, I think, my first college-anxiety dream. On the surface, it was a fairly typical and likely-to-happen-to-me scenario: I couldn't find the dining hall and got lost on campus.It was the first day of school, and I was trying to find the dining hall. I noticed that some guy was going there too, so I figured I could find it if I just followed him. But I soon

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5933827.post-1120694455958110032005-07-06T19:35:00.000-04:002005-07-06T20:00:55.976-04:00

This will be a quickie entry, typed hurriedly on my mom's wireless laptop at a Starbucks in L.A., right next to the USC campus.Mama and I are here for the freshman orientation. (Yes, my orientation is in early July. Yes, we go back to New York on Friday. Yes, then we have to fly back here again in August, when school actually starts. No, there's no easier way to do this. Yes, we're

Frankiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140179230506075392noreply@blogger.com