...Jonathan Safran Foer

Dear Diary,

It has been so long since I've written you that my intestines ache. Ever since I've been crowned the wunderkind of modern fiction (and the toast of literary New York), my time is precious. Just like my books are precious. Certainly Michiko Kakutani thinks my books are precious. I mounted what she said about my last book, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, above the mantle in the living room: "...contains moments of shattering emotion and virtuosity that attest to Mr. Foer's myriad gifts..." She's so hard to impress, too! And I try really hard to impress her.

I fear, diary, that I may be in the middle of a writer's block.

As you know, my first book, Everything Is Illuminated, was a fiction novel about a guy named Jonathan Safran Foer (that's me!!) traveling to Eastern Europe to trace his family's roots. It was very funny & honest & poetic & lovely. I liked it a lot!! My second book, the aforementioned Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, was about a 9 year old boy named Oscar who, post 9/11, seeks to find a lock that is linked to his father's untimely death. It was very pretentious & sappy & cloying & artsy. I liked it a lot!!

Trouble is, I don't know where to go from here.

I started writing a book called The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, but apparently it's already a book. And it won the Pulitzer!! Who knew?! The characters in that book are comic book artists, but my characters were Thai hookers who went on a crazy cocaine bender and turned into leapfrogs. Admittedly, it wasn't my best effort.

Next I started writing a book called A History of Hate, a response to my wife's magnificent book, A History of Love. I slept on the couch for a month after that little stunt.

Then came Orange, which was just the word "orange" rearranged differently throughout 426 pages, like this: o r a n g e (p. 28); ora ng e (p. 103); e g n o r a (p. 229); orang e (p. 350) - don't worry, I won't give away the ending!! My editor wasn't happy with that effort.

So today I was brainstorming and I came up with this: a novel called Everything Is Extremely Close & Incredibly Loud. It is the story of a 9 year-old girl named Jonathan Safran Foer who travels to Eastern Europe to find a lock that may or may not have belonged to her father or grandfather. The book will feature all sorts of interesting phrases and wordspushedtogethertoindicatepanic and small scripts and BIG SCRIPTS and colors and pages with (no W O R D S) and pages with (toomanyWORDS) and crossouts and different fonts and photographs and drawings and diagrams and hypertext links that will not work because it is a book not a website but people will be too involved in the story & the characters & the passion & the creativity & the superstaramazingnessoftheWunderKind that they will not care and I will make money and we will settle in a house by the sea and the last page will be so lovely & moving & powerful that readers will weep and I will be rich.

I am amazing.

Love,
Jonathan

...Bill Clinton

LOL.

...Hillary Clinton

I think I must address this above YouTube video, which was brought to me on a silver platter by my Guatemalan maid, Pepita. Now, before I go any further, I need you to know that Pepita has been gainfully employed by the Clintons for twenty years, and we acquired her quite legally. Well, at the time it was legal. I think. I don't remember. It was a long time ago. And anyway, a baby left crying in front of a fruit stand at an open air market in Guatemala contributes more to society by bringing me things than it does by crying. Don't worry. Pepita is none the wiser, and she's always been very happy here. There was the Great Escape Attempt of 1999, but we cleared that up. Just a misunderstanding.

My honorable competitor, Mr. Obama, will contend that this video proves that I've lived a bourgeoisie lifestyle and am unable to relate to the lower or middle classes. But let's face it, there's almost no middle class in this country anymore, and we can thank President Bush for that. (I will wait while you cheer, clap, and wave your CLINTON '08 banners.)

My fellow Americans, you should know that I always serve myself coffee. Here is how the process works. Three days before I require coffee, Pepita roasts the beans and immediately freezes them to capture the essence and robust flavor. Three days later she removes the beans from the freezer, grinds them, and brews a pot with triple-reverse-osmosis-purified water. She then pours the piping hot beverage into a Versace china cup (isn't it darling?!), brings it into the room on a platinum serving tray, and offers it to me while prostrating at my feet.

But I raise the glass to my lips. And I force the caffeinated goodness down my gullet. Pepita just watches and occasionally offers to wipe my mouth with an embroidered silk napkin.

See, I live my life just like you. You are America. I am America. We are America.

The coffee machine at the gas station was state-of-the-art and that's why I was unable to use it. It made coffee with lasers and microchips or something like that and only trained professionals are supposed to operate it. The stupid clerk didn't tell us that until Brett interrogated talked to him calmly about the situation.

Brett is my favorite Secret Service Agent. He is a very intimidating guy. This is my favorite picture of him because he looks like he wants to eat the guy holding the camera.

When Brett makes that face at people at my rallies, it makes me laugh.


Wow. I really digressed there. Normal people digress, don't they? I mean you, fellow American, probably take detours when you write or talk, telling inter-related stories concurrently, right? Do you see? This is further proof that I'm not some rich, privileged, ego-tripping white lady who cattily attacks her opponent for having no "experience", even though he appears far more human and is able to relate to the working classes. Oops! I digressed again. See? I'm just like you!

God bless you!
Hill

...Amy Winehouse

wokeup a noon, shit n th bed on axaden. five day benders play hellon my bowels. lolz.

suposta be at th recordin studio buh forgots. lolz. tease m hare up n went to tesco for some chips n biscuits an lockd mself outta aparmen. had a fag on th fron porch n cald my mum to pik me up. she droved me to bobby stashun. bad idea. th bobby foun two kilosov cocayne n stuff n my purse but i haffa gettit to th pokey for blake. i haffa pee n a cup.

wanna vist blake buh cort datez getin th way, blake, sorry. blake. blake? BLAKE!!! BLAKE!!! MY BABY!!! dis awardzfor you blake!!

veins hurtin now. neefix.

amyamyamyamyamyamyamy

...John Krasinski

Dear Journal,

Today is the season finale for The Office. I'm thinking of trying out some new faces for my character Jim to make when Dwight Schrute or Michael Scott says something stupid (which is often!).

Here are some I've been practicing in dress rehearsals.

What do you think, journal? They might be my most clever and original faces yet!

Sincerely,
John K.

...Lindsay Lohan

Ohmigod!

So. West Hollywood is totally crazy on a Monday night! (But really... now that I think of it, when is West Hollywood not crazy?!) Seriously! The gays know how to party! Even on a school night!

Okay. So I totally deserved to go out. I'm working on my new album and most of my day was spent in the studio laying down and mastering four tracks: "Samantha, U R My Gurl", "Daddy Doesn't Love Me", "Cokehead Blues", and "Oops, I Crashed My Car Again".

So. The first is a tender ballad with mad-crazy Indian strings and this incredible vocal loop that totally sounds like nothing else that's ever been written. Ever. Except maybe that Imogen Heap song. And of course, it's about Sam Ronson, who is my total BFF. Some might say "my lover", but if you think I'm dishing about that, you're wrong! "Daddy Doesn't Love Me" is the toughest song I've ever written. Here's a sneak preview of the opening line: "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy/You treated me like crap/I never wanted to be in/the movie Parent Trap". Isn't that awesome? "Cokehead Blues" is the craziest song I've ever written. There are, like, guitars and synthesizers and yodeling in it. I think there's a goat somewhere in there, too. It's wild. "Oops, I Crashed My Car Again" is totally punk! Think, like, Good Charlotte! Not that crappy punk from the late 1970s. Like, real punk!

Okay. So I was cooped up in a studio and totally needed to let loose. So Sammy came over at 9:45. We spent a little bit of time in the hot tub, drinking appletinis, and talking about... you know, stuff... like Ashlee's pregnancy and Amy's arrest. Famous people are so crazy! Anyway. So Sam & I were really drunk by, like, 10:30, but the night was young! And so are we!

So. We hopped in my car and drove to West Hollywood. I might have hit a dog on the way, but I was so wasted, it could have been a squirrel. Or a child. Seriously, though... it's not my fault. Keep your pets (or children) on leashes, America!

Okay. So we went to this amazing nightclub, Codpiece, and there were so many hot guys. Most of them were totally gay and making out... but this is West Hollywood, right? Right. So Sam was like, "You want to make out, Lindsay?" and we did. And everyone was cheering and ordering us more drinks. I must have had at least 5 Long Island Iced Teas. I mean, I was rocked.

So. Apparently the 'razzi showed up and started taking pictures of me and Sam... who, by this time, was only wearing panties. It was crazy! But we're totally not gay. We just like to hang out and explore each other's bodies. With our mouths. I mean, if that's gay, then the Pope is Catholic, right? Oh wait. Is the pope Catholic? I can never remember. Religion is like math... it's really confusing.

Okay. So there are probably going to be photographs in inTouch this week. Ignore them! It was totally innocent. Anyway, so it was like 8 in the morning by the time we were finished partying. Sam tried to convince me that I was too drunk to drive home, but I was totally sober! I hadn't had a drink in, like, 30 minutes. That's totally enough time to absorb all that alcohol. On the way home, I might have taken a shortcut. Through the mall. It's all a blur. God, I hope I didn't do too much damage.

Love ya, journal!
Lindsay

Joe says: Big shout out to Vitamin Water for making acai-blueberry-pomegranate flavored water, which sorta looks like wine in dim light!