Friday, November 26, 2010


Last night I caught a snippet of Fran Lebowitz being interviewed by Jimmy Fallon. Let me clarify: I do not watch Jimmy Fallon. It was purely by chance late at night at a friend's house. And it could barely be called an interview, but I digress. I vaguely knew of Lebowitz. Just the name, really, and the fact that she was a writer. Nothing more. I summed her up quickly in my terribly judgmental and stereotype-loving mind. New York Jewish Liberal Intellectual Lesbian Writer.

Except for being liberal, we don't really have much in common. I am not a real New Yorker, I have only a vague notion of a religious upbringing, I am of average intelligence, I am straight, and I barely write. Then my mother and I were watching "Pretty Woman" tonight after all the relatives left, then started flipping channels. Again, allow me to clarify: I do not usually watch lame 80's romantic comedies, but sometimes it happens. It's acceptable now and again, I believe. Anyway, Lebowitz was on Charlie Rose, and this time, I actually listened to the interview. Then I Googled her. Then I felt better about not knowing anything about her since she has really only written a few books, which I do believe I'll read. And then I found this quote:

"I've never met anyone who even comes close to me in laziness. I would have made a perfect heiress. I enjoy lounging. And reading. The other problem I have is fear of writing. The act of writing puts you in confrontation with yourself, which is why I think writers assiduously avoid writing. The number of alcoholic writers makes a lot of sense because if you're going to be face to face with yourself, maybe it's better that you don't recognize that person."

It was in this 1994 article in the New York Times. And it made me feel better, because while Fran and I may not have much in common, this quote pretty much summed me up, though I'm no alcoholic. It also mentioned that she's hypoglycemic, hence why she doesn't drink. I have diagnosed myself as such, yet I still drink. Perhaps too much, perhaps not enough. Brilliant. I have found inspiration.

I would have made a lovely heiress, too, Fran. If I had all the time in the world, I would just sip red wine and snuggle in blankets and eat good bread and just read Read READ all day and all night. I would probably write even less in that case, because I would be ashamed of my laziness. Perhaps that's why I don't write at all anymore, except on this sad excuse for a blog. Perhaps it's because I don't feel like I have anything to say. Perhaps it's writer's block. But you have to be a writer first to catch that terrible disease, and I don't think I qualify. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Now here is the part where I will compare Fran and myself. Can I call you Fran, Fran? Will you be the next female writer that I come to idolize for a few weeks or months and then discard? You will? Great, thanks. Anyway, Fran does not like avocados, which she equates to being the mayonnaise of vegetables. I absolutely agree, and that's exactly why I love them so much. She has gone through a decade-plus-long period of writer's block. I have not, but I feel like I have. It's not really the same. She smokes a lot. I try not to smoke, but I love it. Smoking is delicious and disgusting. Disgustingly delicious. Also, she thinks giving books to children is important. Duh. But some people are terribly stupid and don't think that's important. I dislike those people. I like Fran.

Now I'm bored with this post, and no one is going to read it because it's terrible. But if you do read this, ask me about Fran Lebowitz the next time you see me, because if I haven't picked up one of her books yet, then I just lied about having found inspiration. Don't make a liar out of me.

Happy Thanksgiving!