The Cover of Rolling Stone Magazine The photographer knows. Calls your name and number, pulls your star from his private smog sea. Wants you to get quick, give gullible. The photographer is shout-singing suggestions from behind his Magna Carta camera lens: Try tricksy! There you go, pretend you don’t know! Pretend you don’t want what you know! Give me infidelity! Plump your lips! Give me click click click! Like you’re the purveyor rule breaker, and there are Hail Marys for sale! He seizures Seltzer water, is scream-stamp-skipping towards an assistant named Tonya, oh, Tonya, tragic greenscreen orphanet, an individualist who thought she was better than this. But isn’t Hollywood just a different kind of housebreaking? All of its precious pets reigned into the same ring, panting, panting, waiting for their cue. An Individualist who Thinks She is Better Than This is surprised to see her body on display at Macy’s. Served up like cuts of meat, That’s where my thighs went! She’s reaching down to double check, but her right hand’s gone, perched proudly with a purse in Junior’s. Her left tit bobs like an apple in a tree, high above Intimates, spinning in fluorescent light and string. Her agent comes at her, all cell phone cardiac, all racetrack, making bids like latchkey kids and their Television babysitter: Buy buy buy! What an opportunity, what a deep fried kind of olive branch! This is better than the dove better than the piece- meal deal they were stringing us along with, this is all of Kansas on a plate, neon supper squeal and singing. Think about the exposure! Agent bulldozes towards their book deal and Individualist counts what remains: seven fingers. Six baby toes. How to Win a Pageant in Five Easy Steps: Advice for Young Hopefuls 1.) Think big. No, big. Like cosmic big, like tsunami big. Like your smile should be wiping out the livelihood of some small time farmer, or something. It isn’t insensitive, they would have survived if they had your kind of stage presence. 2.) Give them sweet like a headache. Like sledgehammer hips. Like watermelon bubble gum caught in their windpipe, the hot pink sprinkles of their death wish; don’t think they don’t know exactly what you do to them. 3.) Practice your surprised face. Practice your humble acceptance speech face. Practice your, I swear I didn’t sucker punch my opponent right straight in her vagina because she threw off my energy when I was warming up for the group dance routine, face. 4.) Never thank your mama before you thank God. Never mix up your daddy for God, or you’ll be praying to the boy who’s sleeping off his hangover in the stands, sipping on a wine cooler and promising he’ll bring the car around in just a minute. 5.) When you get that trophy, hold it like a hand job. Like the last drag of your cigarette, how its cherry sparks at your hairspray hemorrhage. You’ll be real pretty when they’re proud of you.
November 18, 2014