I couldn’t really bring myself to have a strong opinion on the Jessica Roy thing for a while. I (like everyone else) had a good laugh over what’s surely now an incredibly tired topic, which, for the record, was never about this specific person. It was about the idea of this bright, intelligent young person who found themselves enveloped in this literary scene she had sought out, and expecting to find something great, something spectacular, some kind of refuge for her dreams and premonitions about the person she wanted to be and the people she wanted to be that person with, found the Same Old Shit. It’s like that epsiode of South Park where Stan tries to be a goth only to find that the gothic kids are just as - if not more - exclusionary and dickheaded as everyone else.
The one time I really tried to think about this, it made my head hurt. Because there’s a somewhat unlikely but completely existent possibility that this is one of the most clever ruses to ever have hit the New York lit scene. Think about it: a smart, young girl hangs out with her literary idols and, in the Age of post-Information, figures out what tools they are, and blogs not only the private details of their parties and social lives, but also of her personal despair with the situation.
She “inadvertantly” launches her writing career with articles and coverage in New York Magazine and now, apparently, the Huffington Post, where she has a column. This idea gives credit to the fact that Roy is intelligent enough to pull this off, which, honestly, I actually believe, if only because I don’t think anybody could be stupid enough to be so let down, dissapointed, and disenchanted with what happens in said scene; I don’t think anybody could be above having realistic expectations, even for their idols, if they have half a mind about them. Because people, really, are just fuckin’ people. And you just got yourself a writing career. And you’re in France.
You can’t find Tofu? You’re a fuckin’ idiot. The Tofu of life is in front of you, Jessica Roy. There are worse things than being stuck in Paris and being tapped out for protein. I promise.