creative junk

lablague:

I recently finished a book called Palo Alto by actor/writer/professionally-attractive/notable-character-in-my-dreams, James Franco. If you’re curious, this is what it looks like:

When I first picked up this book, I thought that the city of Palo Alto was an idyllic California town run by mobsters, and by mobsters I mean Facebook and Google. (Zing!) Upon my completion, however, I realized I had been very wrong. Following the release of James “I am seriously so good looking” Franco’s first book of short stories, Palo Alto can henceforth be associated with the following things:

• illegally-purchased guns
• rape
• killing doves
• drunk driving
• graffiti
• racism
• weed (My bad! I forgot that Palo Alto is in California, so it’s already associated with weed, or so says the Californian’s Are All Giant Stoners Law of Default.
• murder
• middle school

Ever since my understanding of Palo Alto has shifted, I am forced to dethrone Camden, NJ as the city in my mind that best encompasses the word “ballerin.” Who knew a place that could birth the angelic face of not one but two darling Franco men could also be the hardest, most street-wild place in these United States? Were Google, Facebook, and Apple all just gang names before they were given exorbitant investment capital? Steve Jobs: El Hefe.

Oh, you wanted me to review the writing? That seems fair. The only problem with that is once you reach the end of the book, James Franco’s face is plastered on the back jacket flap. And since looking at a picture of Franco is similar to staring directly into the sun, I have completely forgotten what the writing was like. I mean, the guy is in near 13 MFA programs right now. I’m sure it was good.

Right?