Thursday, October 24, 2002

Hi Laffy Taffy!

Christina Aguilera is such a Las Vegas hotel room tragedy waiting to happen, it's not even funny. Poor kid. She has a newly acquired vacancy in her eyes that suggests the presence of very, very good drugs. On TV she said something about her new street-hooker look--something like, I'm not ashamed of my sexuality and I don't think any female should be.

Wow, Christina, I never thought about it that way. It's like a whole new world of liberation I'd never imagined possible. You are truly a thinker for our time.

Britney always says the same thing..." Wha's wrong wif' bein' sexy?"

It's so early Madonna.

In the bad way.

I bet that teens before MTV had way hotter sex than they do now. Imagine: two kids in rural Kansas in 1948, after school, in some abandoned Depression house way out on the Interstate. Two kids who don't know what "sexy" kissing is supposed to look like, who don't know how seduction is supposed to look, who're pretty much making it up as they go.

Sure, they had kissing in movies back then, but it wasn't real, sex kissing. And they didn't move their bodies.

I'm excited to see movies with women who are in the bloom and fullness of command of their sexuality, and who understand their own value. Like Kate Winslet. It takes time to get there. You're not there at 21. I think 40 would actually be the perfect age to be a woman.

Though every age in a woman's life is cool, because in every age, she gets to be a woman.

By the way, I have totally changed my vibe on J. Lo.

I didn't plan this, but J. Lo is becoming one of my very favorite icons.

I love J. Lo because she is a complete, over-the-top diva of a new stripe. Unlike all your usual gay-icon divas (or even your Lolita pop divas), J. Lo has no tragedy about her at all. She is triumphant and completely self-involved--doing, getting, and buying every damn thing she wants. Everything about her is stylish and expensive, and completely hilarious. She has no shame, and men are always secondary to Self in her life (unlike Madonna, Britney, Gwen, and even Mary J.). Everything is about Her. I have not seen this since my precious Spice Girls. (Also, her big-ass vibe is non-hegemonic: There is room in a J. Lo world for different sorts of beauty.)

(And yo, you may not get the Spice Girls, but there's a reason that when he met them, Nelson Mandela said they were his heroes.)

The Spice Girls and Girl Power are still superior to J. Lo, but that's OK.

J. Lo is a blown-out cartoon of self-indulgence, and I find this iconography inspiring. I cheer her on along her path to ever more opulent fabulosity.

Has J. Lo changed since I wrote about her almost two years ago?

Maybe a little.

Have I changed?

Maybe a little.

But really what happened is that I started to feel a kind of affection for her, probably because writing about her was such fun.

And then I saw it: I may not ever want to know her, or ever be like her on a personal level, because she's surely a nightmare. But as an icon, a Greek-style goddess of sorts, or a Catholic-style patron saint, she serves her purpose. The J. Lo principle is useful to me in my pursuit of fabulousness, as are Jane Austen, Hillary, the Beatles, Lester Bangs, the Spice Girls, Drew Barrymore, the Donnas, Jim Walsh, Faith Sullivan, and numerous others.

It is important to work to become fabulous--and it really works. People don't just wake up fabulous. They work really hard at it, and then they become funny, beautiful, insightful, and exciting to be around.

I don't think that Christina or Britney understand about this kind of fabulism.

And while I've changed my mind on J. Lo, my views of Rolling Stone have only become, um, more so. Because it has only become more so. (This made me so happy: In the new issue w/Christina on the cover, they have a blurb on the letters page encouraging people to go buy the new Da Capo book, because it contains a piece that originally ran in R.S. If anyone actually did this, they would also read my spittle-ridden anti-R.S. screed, probably first. This pleases me on too many levels.)

(By the way, I never figured this one out: How did R.S. manage to hyper-hype "Almost Famous," and the magazine's role in it, when the film's spiritual hero and conscience, Lester Bangs, was banned from R.S.? I don't get it, man.)

Now I must sleep or I will get very sick and it will be unfabulous.



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