It seems obvious to me now that anytime you write about a person online they are likely to read what you’ve written, so you should keep that in mind while writing. It’s odd to think that there was a time — relatively recently! — when I didn’t know this. It’s even odder to read things that are written by people who still haven’t realized this. I mean, either people haven’t realized this or they have zero ethical qualms about hurting other people. Sometimes it’s the latter. That’s a boring line of inquiry, right? Still, people have written entire books about: ‘Whoa, the Internet is such a mean, mean place,’ and my feeling is always, well, duh. Some people are mean. Some people have always been mean, and when you overstimulate mean people and reward them with attention and also vouchsafe quasi-anonymity to them, they’ll get meaner by orders of magnitude. As Lamar Van Dyke might say, “well, yeah. That’d be yeah.”
The interesting thing, to me, is when people write online in a way that belies their belief that they’re passing some kind of secret private note that the person they’re eviscerating — or, more accurately, the received-idea-of-person they’re eviscerating — will never see. I understand this mentality because I used to embody it, uh, approximately 12 times a day. When I thought of the audience for my Gawker posts, I thought about how many people would agree with me, how we’d all bond over my witty observation about how thing/person X sucked in this particular way or had said some impolitic or dumb thing. I really did not ever think of the person I was writing about sitting there and reading what I’d written. I sincerely thought that the kind of people who got written about were somehow different from me.
Well, maybe some people don’t, but I read every single god damn thing that people write about me. All of it. If it is possible to find via a Google Blog or a Technorati search, I have read it. I’m not so obsessive that I will read all the comments on a blog post, and I definitely haven’t read all the comments on the Times magazine story (I made Choire skim them to find “questions” that I could “answer” when I had to do that for the Times’ website), but I am fairly thorough with my online self-flagellation/self-gratification. Probably this admission will not change the mind of anyone who thinks I’m a narcissist. But honestly, guys, can you sit there and tell me you don’t do the same thing? If you don’t, it might just be because there’s only so obsessed you can get when the third result after your LinkedIn profile is a track meet score from high school. But if you are a writer or performer or artist or have any kind of online presence beyond social networking sites, you engage in what Joanne McNeil has dubbed “narci-searching.” (Guess how I found that blog post!) Don’t tell me that you don’t. Actually, do tell me that you don’t! Write me an email and tell me how you avoid doing this. I would love to know your secret. Because even when I have taken breaks from the Internet, I’ve always had well-meaning friends who’ve been like “Oooh, saw the thing about you … sucks, right? Haha, weird.” Far from avoidable, knowledge of every dumb (or occasionally nice!) thing anyone writes about the cloud of concepts they perceive to represent “Emily Gould” is, for me, inevitable.
I am trying to get to a point here and the point had to do with, I was sitting on the subway today reading last week’s New Yorker, which was the best New Yorker of all time, pretty much. Ryan Lizza’s Rahm Emanuel profile. Ariel Levy on Van Lesbians. Rebecca Mead making some opera lady interesting. And then this week there was that D. T. Max David Foster Wallace piece, which I read online in its 13-page entirety, sometimes through tears. Basically the New Yorker is so good lately that whenever there’s a particularly Dad-funny Shouts and Murmurs or, say, an annoying Adam Gopnik thing about Damon Runyon and Guys and Dolls, it really clunks loudly. So I was thinking about this and suddenly my mind started to whirr with ideas for an old-school blog post about all the mockery-ripe Gopniky moments (”And then, just as it takes a naïf to find Paris cafés adorable—the natives find them about as interesting as diners—it took another kind of naïf to think that the lowlifes of Broadway were charming”) in that piece and how I’d dissect them (I know, ha ha.) Then I thought about how long it had been since I’d written something like that and I started to think about why, exactly, that was.
Here is an example of someone who wrote about me who, it seems clear, didn’t think I would ever read what she’d written.
This is someone I met when my ex-boyfriend was in a band with her husband. She wrote this post on a blog that seems to be otherwise comprised of sweet observations about her infant daughter and wry observations about her job teaching in a NYC public school. Based on that stuff, I’d assume that she is a person who has ethical qualms about hurting others. She really did not think I’d ever read this. Right?
Oh hmm. Wait. “I remember that my husband hung out at their apartment once, bringing home to Manhattan the opinion that they were a really nice couple as well as a copy of a fun novelty book from Emily’s publishing company. Emily, if you read this, I think we still have that book – do you want it back?”
Okay, so. She does assume I’ll read her blog post. Except, maybe this is a rhetorical device? You know, “An Open Letter to [X].” Because what kind of person would want someone they’d met a couple times and been friendly with in real life to read something like this:
“I find Emily’s career arc to be slightly distasteful – the lack of general seriousness, the rise to public prominence for no meaningful reason, the dependence on celebrity/gossip culture, the exhibitionism, etc.”
Or, well, this:
“THE TATTOOS. Emily, if you read this, I am so, so sorry, I truly am, but HOLY GOD THE TATTOOS. Yes, I know I have a tattoo also, BUT IT IS NOT OF THE SEQUINNED FLOWERS ON GRAM PARSON’S NUDIE SUIT. IT JUST ISN’T, OK? Emily, if you read this, you totally know that there is a difference between just getting a tattoo and getting THAT TATTOO. I know you know there’s a difference, because that’s why you got that tattoo, but you think it’s a GOOD DIFFERENCE and I think it’s a BAD DIFFERENCE. AND KNOWING ABOUT IT MAKES IT REALLY HARD FOR ME TO TAKE YOUR WORK SERIOUSLY. I’M SORRY. There. I said it. (But not really. I typed it. Your article is sort of about the difference between those two things. Maybe it would have been a better article if it had been more specifically, thoughtfully about the difference between those two things. I don’t know. I’m just glad I didn’t have to write it.)”
Wow. Um. I wish I remembered what tattoo this woman has, that is so much better than my tattoo. Ostensibly it is a kind of tattoo that would lead you to take someone’s work more, not less, seriously — assuming, of course, that you were the kind of person who judges the seriousness of someone’s work based on her tattoos.
And then then there is this paragraph, which is where I begin to feel physically sick.
“The worst thing I have to say about the article (and also Emily Magazine) is that it’s often not particularly compelling writing. (Emily, if you read this, I am really sorry. I have no wish to cause you personal pain, even though that is of course what I might be doing. Really, I should just shut up and go back to staring moodily at my sleeping babymy perineum or my new sandals or my recent trip to Ikea. Because who elected me Ms. Critic of the Universe and gave me the right to talk trash about other people’s creative productions? Nobody, that’s who. But I’m going to keep writing this anyway, and then I’m going to post it online where everyone can see it forever. Because, just like you did, I feel driven to do it, and I feel like it’s some sort of innate right. I feel you, girlfriend. I really feel you. Though, Emily, if you read this, you probably hate the fact that I just called you “girlfriend.” Sorry for that, too.) She is not an especially bad writer, and I guess I ought to salute her for that, as there are lots of especially bad writers out there, but she is not amazing either. For the most part (and there are exceptions), I cannot hear a strong, lively voice behind her words; I cannot pick out the clear, individual consciousness that makes any piece of writing more than just the story that it tells, thus lifting it out of tedium [...]“
“I am really sorry.” That’s what gets me.
Right now, I am writing in a medium that can deceive its participants into thinking that real people — people who’ve invited us into their thought processes, or even people who have invited us into their literal homes — should be written about the same way we’d write about a character on a tv show that we hate-watch.
I am aware of this now and I will try not to be deceived.
92 Comments
Oh Emily! You have quite obviously learned so much these last months.
Why bother apologizing if you’re still going to click “publish” at the end of the day? My mom used to say to me “you’re not sorry you did it, you’re just sorry you got caught.” The self-awareness of an apology
Saying (emphatically) that someone has a shitty tattoo pretty much evaporates any chance you have at making a criticism of them/their job that ISN’T ad hominem.
yuck, that girl was so smug and self satisfied. i dont know how you could read that without throwing up your red popsicle. i can tell just by reading that post that she has the kind of self-serious personality I can’t stand; if this post were written about me i don’t think I would care because her judgments and opinions on people are probably the exact opposite of mine. In fact, I would almost be worried if she praised me. do you feel that way at all, emily?
I think it’s a blessing that people write about you - in a sort of twisted way.
What I would say about the “really sorry” girl - just by reading this excerpt - is that she probably looks at your posts, which are longer than the tumblr-era-style-blogging she’s probably used to, and her head hurts. I’d say you are an exceptionally good writer for people who read.
And the way I keep from Googling myself is that I never find anything good or bad, so there’s that.
But maybe I’ll give it a go right now and see what comes up (aside from a mention from my HS German by Satellite class and a Christian Scientologist who shares my maiden name).
One of the things I like about skilled writers is that their material pulls you in before you know what has happened. As Rebecca A. stated so well” You have such a pleasing way of inviting your readers inside your head.”
I was happy to see this new post.
A quick overview revealed a longer than average post with lots of links. This should have been a clue; but, without giving it any more thought, I jumped in.
As my reading progressed, I started getting all wound up to react to the subject, when I realized, your writing had pulled me in so fast, that I almost forgot that’s there’s no way you’d have spent the time on this piece primarily to comment on aspects of the technology interface experience and to complain about the drunk ramblings of some pathetic, obsessive creature. Smooth!
Another excellent piece of writing, thanks!
I found your writing through gawker, and I enjoy it. Thus, am happily subscribed to your blog.
I’m a little bit older and geekier than you, so I first had my overshare-y bloggy ex-boyfriend experience back in 2001, and since then have been more cautious about my blogging. I’ve still had minor drama flare ups, and after a few years of quiet, recently found a blog post written about me (specifically, about realizing he doesn’t love me).
My favourite (ex) writers for the Gawker empire probably got the most abuse. It’s too late for me to say anything intelligent about that, except that there are quiet fans out there, like myself.
I’m sorry you feel that you have to feel this way!
@bennett. Ha. Accompanied with sympathetic look and hand on shoulder
Loved this post. Loved. It.
I’ve never understood the ire towards you. You’re funny, self-aware and you always, always, admit your mistakes. You’re human and your writing cracks me up. In other words, you always “write the hell out of it”.
Also, Emily if you’re reading this, I am so sorry, but COOL INK, GIRLFRIEND!!!
Really though, by posting these odious excerpts aren’t you just inviting us to do the dirty work–that of giving back to her as good as she gave–for you?
I’ll limit my scorn to one point: How is it possible for a person (this witch) to write a generalized condemnation of a writer’s (your) supposedly mediocre writing abilities by employing her own patently inferior writing abilities…without noticing the absurdity? The combination of her diction and her syntax and her tone evokes some godawful combination of an 18 year old airhead and a prudish, self-consciously “helpful” and “thoughtful” letter-to-the-editor writer circa 1958. And that’s not a function of her–still undoubtedly wretched–personality, but a testament to HOW BAD AND MALADROIT A WRITER SHE IS.
Too mean?
EMILY.
I enjoyed reading what you wrote but to your point: People have been backstabbing people whose homes they were in forever, in fact it’s an official Manhattan sport I think?
But setting catty social cultures aside — you can ask Liz Smith about their local history, after all — this woman was on the ex-boyfriend’s side of the friend network chart. Trash-talking along the lines of “I could never stand that b#%$!@/d#$%” have probably been around as long as breakups and spoken language.
I guess what “the medium” enables that’s new and oh-so-special is that it made it really easy for this woman to have a, what, 4,000 word(?) bitchfest (which has been happening for eons verbally) and publish it to the world (new!).
Oh, Emily, I need to print out this post and put it on my wall just to remember that I’m not the only one who’s struggled with these feelings. There’s a tipping point after which you’re perceived by the blog community as a celebrity and, to them, you become a caricature of yourself, or, as you put it, a “cloud of concepts.” Then they can treat us the way they treat more traditional celebs, because we’re not real anymore. It was so jarring for me when it started that I almost quit. I kept reading this stuff thinking to myself, “This isn’t true! I never said that! How could they be saying these things about me? THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW ME.” And then I realized that that’s exactly how Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears feel every time they see one of my posts.
I’ve pretty much made my peace with it, but it still hurts to read it every. Single. Time. That piece you linked to was especially evil. What a douche. (And you are, for the record, a better writer than she is, by powers of 10.)
I hope you feel better, sweetie.
I love your blog and read it regularly—this is the first time I’ve responded and I’m just here to say, Don’t Google Yourself. It’s a kind of restraint that is necessary to have a good life and to grow as a writer. The way I stopped was to just dig in about why I was looking in the first place, was it boredom, curiosity, loneliness, habit, etc, and then think about the consequences of doing it, the wasted time, the anger, the jitteriness, the intrusion on my writing, etc, and then think about my goals and how self googling just didn’t get me any closer to them. You’re talented—maybe think of not googling yourself like an athlete not smoking. You asked for advice–I think sincerely–there’s mine. What other people think of you is none of your business. Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. How people respond to you only reveals them, not you. Good luck!
Ha, ok, I will give it a shot. Starting now. I wish they made a “Freedom” for this but I guess the whole point is self-control …
( http://www.ibiblio.org/fred/freedom/) (yay Freedom!)
Emily, I have to admit: I saw you, Doree, and Maud Newton Twittering about Freedom so I assumed it was some cool new band. So I went to my trusty source for illegal downloading and well, let’s just say I quickly realized y’all probably weren’t talking about an album by Akon or a song by Ashanti as something that helped you to write. Maybe the Jimi Hendrix, but anyway.
emily, i love your blog, i really do. obviously that is why i’m here reading it. but this woman’s post was written in june. why are you still thinking about it? move on! we all realize that you have to somehow maintain the public’s interest in your whole “i was mean on the internet and wrote about my ex boyfriend’s penis and now everyone hates me” shtick because of your book, but honestly, that story is old and boring now.
So this person remembers your exact outfit on a certain day but can’t remember whether or not she came down with the flu that day? I know memory is selective, but wow, interesting choice of details.
The funniest part of the offensive post in question was that she kept repeating variations of the phrase “Emily if you read this” because clearly that demonstrates that she was really, really hoping you would.
What did passive aggressive people do before the internet made it so easy to talk about people behind their backs?
Also, how hilarious that she’s judging your tattoos. I mean, if you think about it, that kind of defines a generation, doesn’t it?
Thankfully my name is Michael Jackson and I am thus, unable to google myself and get very far. Change your name to Madonna!
“But it’s not really Emily’s fault that the New York Times Magazine offered her a cover article despite the fact that her story is essentially free of interest to the general public.”
I stopped reading after that.
Emily, I don’t know you but I would say you are a different person since your Gawker days. It’s a good thing you don’t have friends like that person anymore. I would like to know which public school she teaches at. I don’t want my children being influenced by such a vapid, delusional hag.
Hi Emily
With great courage and honesty, you’ve allowed your readers to witness your awakening from operating while asleep to being awake. I appreciate that. This woman (and anyone who gets gratification or ego reinforcement from attacking others) is still asleep. Hopefully she wakes up, too. You can’t hate her because you’ve been her. Your hurt is a great indicator of your awareness in this area.
You’re a writer, and a big part of the deal is putting yourself out there. Recognize the criticism is coming from a stranger who needs to reinforce their ego; it’s NOT the voice of the world or the truth. Her opinion about your writing is just some person’s opinion. Everyone in the world isn’t going to love it, accept that and keep moving. Plenty of people love your writing - and more intensely than people who don’t (though I always think it’s a good sign when any creation inspires hate - apathy is what you want to look out for).
Also, don’t confuse your written expressions with your SELF, as much as they feel like a piece of yourself.
Keep doing what you’re doing. I love watching you go, girlfriend! hehehe
.
all of us here shrouded by the internet thinking we’re being secret. it’s like when your 12 and smoke a virginia slim luxury light on your walk home from the bus stop and think love’s baby soft will cover it up. no matter how long we’ve been internetting you still forget we can all smell the jealousy or whatever the heck. this is all convoluted i am on major cold drugs. i’ll stop now.
my point is i think your writing is compelling. it’s why i keep coming back here.
Your whole googling yourself deal reminds me of looking at the comments on “Rate My Professors.” Many of them are not fair. You don’t get to defend yourself. You can’t appreciate the nice comments because then you have to pay attention to the bad ones too. You are better off just never looking at them at all, but then you can’t help yourself.
“I am fairly thorough with my online self-flagellation/self-gratification. … But honestly, guys, can you sit there and tell me you don’t do the same thing?”
Uh. No. I don’t. Most of us don’t.
But hey, we’re not you so… if it feels good, do it!
@S: God, you are so (hopefully I suppose deliberately) obtuse. I don’t personally google my name because there is not anything there to see (actually, I have a very common name, so there is a whole bunch of boring stuff about other people there, I just tried it). You can’t say whether you would do this or not, S, because you have nothing on which to base a comparison unless by googling “S” you would have the opportunity to look at a whole bunch of nasty things (and some positive things too) people were writing about your life online. But then, maybe this is all just a little too complicated and over your head, S.
I didn’t come here for the snarky, gossipy stuff. I never read gawker. I came here as a result of my interest in cyber affairs. The New York Times piece brought me, but the writing and insights kept me. I very much enjoyed your rain-drenched oatmeal story and the posts from Russia. A friend of mine, impressed by her friend’s father, said (of him), “he holds himself to the highest standard.” I never forgot that–try to remind myself of it when I’m feeling disappointed that people don’t behave as I thight they ought.
“man did i write a crazy post”
outside looking in/inside looking out!
The woman’s blog post you linked to and heavily quoted from was written nine months ago! I wonder how many children in New York City alone have been conceived and born since she hit “post” early last summer. How many people have died simply of old age in that span of time. This blog-to-blog circular narci-obsession seems so trivial. Is that a judgement? I mean it more as an observation.
Everyone should have some number of free narci-searches every year. It’s like checking your credit report – once or twice a year is okay, but too many requests actually hurts your score.
If the first thing someone with your job application does is Google the name on it you might want to know what they turn up. But if you are a public figure, even a marginal one like a local politician or writer, then I don’t know where the line gets drawn because part of the job entails getting dumped on by gleeful philistines.
Ms. Gould:
FUCKEM
These snipes at you are like BB’s being hurled at the Empire State Building.
BTW, why’s my pal Hal being so uncharacteristicly mum during this fracas in a blog-pot?
@ Rebecca A: Yes, it was deliberate. Occasionally my comments get deleted and I’m usually at a loss as to why because they’re never obtuse. I then try to overcompensate, and it inevitably delves into sycophancy (see pretty much all the comments above mine), and she’ll delete those too. Not often, but sometimes: I guess whenever I’ve crossed some invisible line of hers, whenever the attention feels less like a warm bath and more like a cold shower. As for myself, the S is my middle initial (as well as a cheap toss to Superman), and I’ve nothing to hide. I googled myself once a few years ago and not much came up. (well, a lot did, but apparently there are 30,000 people sharing my name; it was a humbling experience — touché) It hadn’t occurred to me to try again until this post. Still turns up nothing unless you add “screenplay”, which would then reveal the myriad contests I’ve only come close to winning (and not a single hit on the one contest I actually did win, of course), so it’ll probably be another few years until I get the urge again.lol Granted, I suppose when one makes their nut on the web - like Emily - you’d be inclined to check a little more often, and I imagine there would exist a vague, if not perpetual sense of image/damage control, and I wouldn’t envy that feeling. That said, looking at my comment again, yeah, it was a little salty, and I apologize if it came across as a disservice, but with all those gushing comments, someone had to play the Fox News role, keep her head from getting too big. Nothing she can’t handle. I read Emily because she’s exceedingly bright, a wickedly talented wordsmith, and because, well, to be honest, because she’s smoking hot. And now I sound like everybody else. Which seems like a disservice, no?
Yeah, fuck her.
I think that you are one of the bestest writers on all of the internets! You have a voice that speaks to a generation, and keeps a proverbial fingertip on the pulse of our cultural, flickering screens. And when you do get around to putting out a book, good, because I still read them.
and my current favorite song: the loving sounds of static/mobius band (either/or the junior boys remix)
BTW, why’s my pal Hal being so uncharacteristicly mum during this fracas in a blog-pot?
Well…I was gonna toss in (up?) my nickel and proffer a pithy, withering evisceration (alliteration AND assonance!) of GFT’s goofy post re: her relationship and criticism of/opinion about Ms. G.
I mean, I liked Em’s (notice how cozy we are now?) piece; it was nicely put together albeit somewhat tepid (hasn’t the whole self-googling meme been played out by now?)
But one senses (monacle please) the tension Emily must feel, having established herself as the princess of oversharing (too young the queen), now having to strike a balance between becoming culturally superfluous (the Brenda Plotnick, as they say, of the blogosphere)–a caricature of her former Gawker persona, and something fresh, exciting and new; not an easy task for anyone, let alone a 27-year old NYT poster child. With a book coming out no less!
And GFT’s piece really IS pretty silly. It meanders in and out of recursive half-thoughts about Emily’s crimes against literature and the author’s own complicity in and perpetuation of same, before getting down to business:
1. Blog pieces should be well-written.
2. Bloggers are spoiled, navel-gazing NYC elitists who God forbid should only have some REAL problems.
3. Emily is the worst kind of opportunistic cultural vampire but she’s hotter than the author who is a saint because she is a public school teacher in a high-needs urban area.
4. Sometimes people make foolish choices they have to live with.
Trenchant references to the greatest jazz-funk-rock band in history aside (Fracture!) GFT’s post is full of I’m-too-stoned-to-care logic that might be construed as mildly witty if one could read it as tongue-in-cheek, but unfortunately the mean-spirited comments about Emily’s appearance (wha?) preclude that. And she confuses criticizing with opining. It’s just plain old ugly.
But then I realized it was nine-months old (I’m slow that way, okay?)
And I felt a little…manipulated.
Call me cynical (or a cab!) but I had to read Emily’s post in a new light after that. I saw publicity and cross-linking to blog posts that feature her name and search-engine-optimization and thou doest protest too much! and I kinda had to agree with GFT a little bit, to wit: It’s not that I think Emily’s writing isn’t good or that she’s skimming the surface. Her writing is strong and clear and she has a subject (and no, it’s NOT herself).
But at the risk of cliché: there’s no blood on the page.
Responding to a nine-month-old post? Eh…soft target.
I still feel Emily is holding back. She hasn’t found her voice yet.
But it’s coming, which is why I keep reading.
Geez, so I spent nine months figuring out how to respond to something. Uh. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. And it is so weird when people think I am calculating, if I were calculating I would do/would have done things VERY differently, believe me.
“Calculating” is way too harsh a word. I don’t think you are cynical or disingenuous or manipulative or any of that stuff. I think you are honest and sincere and in a very difficult place professionally (Whom the Gods would destroy, first they lift up.)
I just feel (opinion alert!) that you’re hitting softballs, when you clearly have the chops to knock it out of the park.
Last I looked, there was a lot of news in the news. Unless you are truly self-absorbed (and I don’t think so), I would hope that what’s going on in the world affects you far more deeply than some snarky, trashy bit of nonsense written when the stock market was still five digits.
The Times piece has given you what George Clooney calls the Celebrity Credit Card. Don’t buy Ikea with it.
Seems to me the whole thing just came up in your mind while you were thinking of all the witty but mean things you might write about ole’ Gopnik, if not for the fact that you did not want to be like that beeatch from nine months ago…..
Anyway, OBVIOUSLY there is no statue of limitations on thinking and writing about things from our past!!
By the way, just for the record, I like Ikea.
Is not it possible to be both genuine in your art and astute in your career strategy without invoking the negative connotations of the term “calculating”?
Or am I just being naïve?
Hi, first time reader, first time commenter. I know what you’re saying, though I’ve never found anything personally offensive about me on the Internet because I only ever write under pseudonym and my real name is just about the most common name on the planet. Those two facts are related, by the way.
I totally agree that there’s some kind of weird thing that makes people believe their blog (no matter how (un)popular) is like a diary they can hide under their bed when their friends come round. I once found the blog of my girlfriend’s best friend, full of bitchiness and spite towards her. Like, seriously, if you didn’t want anyone to know how you felt, why did you post it in a public place?
Eh, I see your point, but essentially you’re still whining about people being mean to you on the internet. You are an artist, creative, etc. like you mentioned. People are going to criticize you, your appearance, your work, on and on and on. Deal with it. It’s a fact of life and whining about it just makes you seem immature. It is an unbeatable force. If you’re happy with your work, you’re happy with it, fuck some other guy. Honestly though, i don’t even remember Rushdie whining this much, and people wanted to kill him for his art.
I just feel like this groups you (us) somehow with John Mayer. And I’m not entirely mad about that.
you made a career about tearing people down and now you’re crying over a blog post? get over yourself.
Wow — I stopped reading her post after she said she didn’t know what to wear, wore some kind of crocheted thing and felt really insecure next to you. I think that about said it all.
Sarah nailed it: Women!
I think the googling thing is endemic to a certain small fishbowl in which you necessarily swim. I hate high school comparisons, but here, it fits. If my high school had had an anonymous or even quasi-anonymous board where people could leave criticisms, I would have camped out there and read it all the time, only not just for mentions of my name.
That said, there would only be a few people whose opinions would really matter to me, and from the sounds of it, this girl wouldn’t be one of them. I think that is really the difference your fishbowl makes - it is hard to distinguish the fish from the gawkers. No pun intended.
Now this is what I call oversharing in a good way.
I always take into account the fact that whoever I’m writing about will probably read what I’ve written (just as, like you, I’ve usually read what they wrote about me), which means I sometimes hold back on “what I really think” more than I would in person - or at least make sure I’m playing the ball and not the man.
Well done Emily, well done.
not seeing the unfairness or the conflict or the issue here
one person talks shit about people in her life because “i am a blogger” and therefore it is necessary
someone talks shit about someone and it’s mean
sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander
live by the blog die by the blog
people talk shit in blogs to hurt other people, yes they do …
There’s something to be said about not answering your critics, especially this one, I mean, c’mon.
I think there is a certain amount of jealousy disguised as looking down on “blogging” as if that’s not writing.
High brow/low brow, so are Shakespeare and Dosgeeefsky better writers than Toole and Fante? Or whoever writes 30 Rock?
Not that I’m putting you in that company, yet, and possibly never, but I think you are a wonderful writer and I will gladly read whatever you write, which I personally can’t say about too many of your contemporaries.
A few though. I liked that “All the Sad Russian Literary Guys,” not bad at all.
I also like Adam Gopnik. Shouts and Murmers, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed once.
Thanks, Emily. I appreciate your restraint.
i like your tattoos and i like your blog and sometimes someone hurts you a lot and it takes nine months or longer to understand how you feel about that…ie what it means that that person did that to you, how you felt when it first happened, how you feel now, what it means that you feel that way, how to respond. it hurts to carry all the mean things around that people have said about you or done to you. it is bewildering.
i hope you feel better, emily.
“I would do/would have done things VERY differently, believe me.” If I were your writing/poetry(gag) prof i would circle this is red and demand you tell your reader what this MEANS. i got that quite often. now, i write shitty venn diagrams to avoid writing beyond. eh.
Just write for yourself.A man told my friend Diane von Furstenberg “You can lose everything in life, you can lose your health, your wealth,you can lose your partner, your child. you can.lose your job. What you never lose is your character.”
Diane continued to say “Life is all about the relationship you have with yourself. If I did one thing right in my life. it’s that very early on I became my best friend.”
In my case in particular I am the mouthpiece for a pharma heir who was a celebrity gynecologist and now a comic and filmaker.i can’t control his comments so I simply stopped caring. When a reporter from London calls and says’ Did you read what Dr Rand Pink said on The Howard Stern Show I am never surprised.
I predict twitter will become as big as google - it just turned down $500 million offer from facebook. Google will probably buy it for $3 billion.
The only way to control anything you say on the internet is to say nothing.So with that I have no comment
If it makes you feel any better, that girl’s baby is really ugly.
Hey, It’s the Undersecretary of Shut The Fuck Up here.
Maybe you should spend more time doing yoga so that you can maybe kiss your ass one day.
Also, it might be getting past you, but this lady is righton about at least one thing. Your tattoos really are fucking dumb!
Did you notice how many posts on that woman’s blog are tagged “anxiety”? Why would you bother to take seriously the criticism of somebody with serious self esteem problems?
By linking your own narcissism together with your own extreme judgmental side together with how sick you feel at reading harsh words directed against you, you’ve composed a pretty artful post, but I wonder if you’re serious about “trying not to be deceived.” Kinda seems more about revenge.
I thoroughly learned this lesson last week at the hands of one Julia Allison.
I’m sorry.
I was just being a jealous weenie. Ur tats r totally hot!
And I’m taking yoga classes just to learn how to self-fellate. I still got a long ways to go because I don’t have a lot to work with :((
I am not a futurists but I believe most blogs will die unless they adapt to the immediacy of twiiter and similar IM sites.
And with that I must pay dome bills
MERCEDES BENZ NORTHERN TRUST
PULTE HOMES
GULFSTREAM
This is the real Rahm here. And no, I’m not being a jealous weenie about your dumb tattoos. See, I’m an observant Jew! Also, I’m hung like a horse because, well, I’m a Jew! And tattoos will send you straight to Jewish hell! Didn’t you pay attetion in Hebrew school? An eternity without bagels where you’re forced to pay retail for everything! You’re doomed.
No, seriously. Get them removed now, or you will die alone. Any dude with any sense looks at your inked-up arms and shit and he sees the wrinkled swirly mess that it’ll be by the time you’re 36. Yeee-yuck! What’s more, would you make the decision to forever wear the jeans or yoga pants you got on now? No. No, you would not, because things go in and out of fashion and you are nothing if not fashionable. But now you’re also kinda fucked!
I’m probably not fooling anyone, but I should admit that I’m not really Adam Gopnik.
Hey, this is off-topic a little, but come to think of it, Emily would be the perfect person to answer.
Since there’s no response-email-challenge (or indeed, any verification process for blog comments), and this being the Google age where your name may forever be linked to text you had nothing to do with, what do you do if someone emails you and says, “Hey, that racist sexist comment attributed to me on your post of xyz…I didn’t write that. Could you delete it?”
Has this ever happened to you Emily? How did you handle it?
Just for the record, every comment made on Emily’s blog so far has, regrettably, been written by me.
And as far as the tats go, although I too feel you may one day come to re-think them (but then I’m just an old fuddy-duddy), for now…they rock. Just don’t age and you’ll be fine!
In my humble opinion as a card carrying member of the commentariat, it appears more likely than not, that the proverbial “bottom of the barrel” has been reached through the preceding ten comments.
[{wondering} maybe an all-time low for EM]
Don’t be crazy, Jack, we can go much lower.
I mean, we’ve only begun to critique the barest minimally irrelevant aspects of Emily’s appearance. There’s still hair, makeup, clothes…my God, shoes alone is probably worth another 60 comments!
Meanwhile…Emily is trying to write! It’s amazing that she has ANY HAIR LEFT with what she must pull out night after night.
Don’t underestimate us, Jack. Bald Emily…we’ll get there.
Emily I have a great therapist. He’s in Chelsea. You should call him. But that’s not why I commented — I just want you to know that you are soooo not a narcissist. You are way too human and non-pathological to be considered a narcissist. You are an artist, not a narcissist, there IS a difference. Seriously, there is a universe between you and your sometimes navel gazing writing and say, Ramona from Real Housewives of NYC. She, my dear, is pathological. You are a soul with an ounce of self awareness, honesty and humility. Don’t let the haters make you think otherwise.
p.s. your body is a wonderland
You are an artist, not a narcissist, there IS a difference.
Narcissartist. I googled it and there are almost no citations. Maybe Emily can claim it somehow.
@HJG
Agreed - a bald EG would be a most terrible thing.
NB: I did state that the bottom of the barrel had been reached, but scraping of the same had not yet commenced.
So, yes, we do still have a long ways to go…
BTW your blog exhibits the best of the minimalist features and I commented there.
emily here is something I thought you may enjoy:
http://hplusmagazine.com/digitaledition/2009-spring/
As much as I do enjoy following all your trials and tribulations, I do hope you are not suffering too much.
Back in the USSR…
Oh, how one wishes sometimes to escape from the meaningless dullness of human eloquence, from all those sublime phrases, to take refuge in nature, apparently so inarticulate, or in the wordlessness of long grinding labor, of sound sleep, of true music, or of a human understanding, rendered speechless by emotion!
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago
My wife and I spent nine months making a kickarse baby.
pretty sure “Justine” above is Mrs. the Countess LuAnn De Lesseps. the “my dear” and the blind hatred of Ramona are dead giveaways!
first adam gopnik and now this!
Can someone just explain to me what’s wrong with the Gram Parsons flowers tattoo?
She seemed to have a strong objection to it, on principle, but I cannot fathom the principle.
I would appreciate if someone with more insight could explain it to me.
Now I’m pretty sure “Anon” has to be her boyfriend. Anyway, I’m getting the feeling that La Gould is nearing the end of her involvement with this blog. When someone blogs as infrequently as she does now (and who can blame her? I am amazed she has any free time at all) then the rest of us are kinda left to our own devices, our disembodied voices echoing through the empty corridors of the blog like ghosts in the machine, posting random, irrelevant comments like this one and chatting amongst ourselves. Don’t you think so Rebecca A? So Jack, how did that haircut come out? Molly…loved your last post. Whatever happened to Gay Blade?
riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs…
It’s a shame that what once were journals, which would be published after the works, are now online as blogs before the fact. At least as authors are concerned.
JMC, I don’t think it’s a shame. I like it. Life is change, you know.
Hal, I like where you wrote “our disembodied voices echoing through the empty corridors of the blog.”
Except there’re some weirdos in here with us. Which makes it creepy…. Not ME of course….
@confused: The problem is not with the tattoo, per se, but with its association with Gram Parsons — substance abuser, wife beater, child molester, baby seal killer, and he doesn’t recycle.
If that’s not a principle, I don’t know what is.
You can almost always tell someone’s half-baked thoughts by the amount of CAPS LOCK. It’s like they’re trying to over-inflate balloons that they know are full of leaks. Maybe if they pump fast enough, no one will notice how these balloons are canting to the side, nodding their heads to a slowing rhythm, and softening to the floor.
I read this blog once every couple of months and it seems as though every other post boils down to:
a) Why does everyone write mean things about me just because I’m only interested in myself?
b) I need to figure out how to spend less time on the Internet.
With the commenters inevitably commenting:
a) You’re a great writer Emily don’t let the haters hate!
And I wonder:
a) Why aren’t you (and everyone else) bored with you by now?
b) Has any of these people who think Emily is a talented writer actually read books? Because I can’t quite figure out the foundation for this opinion.
Also, as a citizen of the world (i.e. not a Gawker reader and habitual blog commentator) I can say with authority that the woman who wrote about Emily is write on all points. Emily desperately needs a (methaphorical) kick in the balls. The end.
Seth FUCK YOU
Before you criticize a writer, why don’t you learn how to spell first?
“write on all” maybe should be “right on all”
“(methaphorical)” s/b “(metaphorical)”
Your grammar is additional evidence of your ignorance
MORON – GO BACK UNDER THE ROCK YOU CRAWLED OUT FROM
I’m going to jump in here and defend Emily, not because I think Seth has no point, but because he’s off the mark, although he’s not WAY off the mark.
He’s simply not reading Emily properly. Here’s my take on the cloud of constructs known as “Emily Gould” (fwiw):
If you read her as a human being — flesh and blood — then you are reading her wrong. Hence all the goofy, stupid comments about her self-absorption, her tats, her wanton, bohemian lifestyle…who cares about that? Dancing about architecture, as they say.
You have to read her as an artistic creation.
Whoever the human being(s) is/are behind the EG concept (and I am not convinced it isn’t a shadowy cabal of internet Illuminati) she/they is/are trying to give birth to a persona that will embody a mindset and sensibility — a voice if you will — that can attract an audience and be consumed by them (I mean consumed as a commercial product, not consumed by Hellfire, although probably that, too).
They want to create a gift that will bring art to the world, and hopefully a bit of filthy lucre as well, since they have to keep themselves in mocha lattes as they hold Tittibhasana while prosecuting their affair with Vronsky.
This Simone has undergone a series of transformations: Adolescent diarist, Gawker-stalker, Times correspondent, and now…what?
I don’t think even she/they know(s).
The problem is that Ms. Bartlby “does honesty” extremely well. This is not the same as being dishonest, but neither is it the same as being honest.
It seems guarded to me, and honesty is like, like art, you know? You know it when you see it.
Perhaps there is no there, there. Maybe she really is so shallow and self-absorbed that she’ll never be able to deliver. That would be a shame (and also surprise me).
My guess is she’s either once burned twice shy, or she’s saving it for the writing she’s getting paid for.
Time will tell.
Seth, for some reason I am going to reply. I guess I am in full procrastination mode again.
Tell me, do you think you’ll go and read that woman’s (the one who wrote about Emily) blog once every couple of months? I went there, to her blog, and was bored stiff. The truth is, Emily’s summation of that post was a heck of a lot more entertaining that anything that woman wrote on her entire blog.
Seth, I have read a heck of a lot of books. And I talk about them, with other educated folk and with dumbass fools alike, enough to know that even the best literature appeals to some and not to others.
So. Emily’s writing doesn’t appeal to you. You are not entertained. You are not inspired. You are obviously also not too bright, because you keep coming back every few months to torture yourself with it. And you can’t understand a very basic concept: that people, the others that drive you crazy for defending Emily’s writing, would only do that because they ENJOY it. They relate to it. I myself enjoy and even, though we (EG and I) have little in common, relate to it. So leave us to what we like and by all means, go enjoy what YOU like.
FOOL.
In my opinion, when someone writes something that makes it clear they are envious of you, and which is hence embarrassing to them, the morally correct thing to do is to take no notice of it. It is a faux pas on their part. Calling attention to others’ faux pas is unnecessary and exploitative.
The illusory “Ms. Critic” seems to think she is giving you constructive, legitimate criticism– the I-would-never-do-it-I-have-taste career/tattoo snub and the most unhelpful ‘you can’t be helped’ message are NOT constructive (what are you supposed to do with that? get it all surgically removed?) Especially annoying is the lordly “I am really sorry”… as if her tirade is disinterested.
Hal, honestly I think you are reading too much into all this….
@Seth has no balls: Those were really more spelling errors than grammatical. Admittedly, I didn’t put too much effort into my comment because I am not a loser. Also, one does need to be a writer to have a valid critical opinion. And the fact remains that I am right/write and you are wrong. PS: I do not live under a rock, but a nice 3 bedroom / 2 1/2 bath detached house in a pleasant suburb of a western European city with a charming thrice weekly green market just a few blocks away. You should come for a visit!
@Hal Jay Greene: an “artistic creation?” Okay, crazy, go back to dressing up your cats.
@Rebecca A: I’m not saying I don’t enjoy her writing. (Although I don’t.) I’m saying she’s not a good writer. (And she’s not.) But you truly hurt my feelings, blog commentator, by saying that I am not too bright. Boo hoo poor me.
I come for the blog, but I stay for the fantastic comments!
@Seth: So you neither think the writing here is any good, nor do you enjoy it. And you are sarcastically caustic about the comments. And yet you keep coming back. And yet you claim you are not a loser…?
Hey Seth, baby,
Don’t know and don’t care if you got kahunas or not. That’s kinda gay anyway…
I do know and do care that your comments are boring - the worst sin.
Put some goddam verve into your comments, you silly Eurotrash boy. Then come on back around and entertain us.
I keep up with Emily Magazine kind of sporadically, so I’m only just reading this entry now.
This woman’s post was so utterly unworthy of any response. I understand you’re much too close to the situation to realize that but, trust me. Writing an entire entry on the flaws of someone else is not something I’d criticize. But someone who writes an entry that is filled with qualifiers that essentially amount to: “I expect to take no responsibility for my shit-talking” is stupid, spineless and totally fucking absurd. If she had left out the personal entreaties of “Her writing isn’t TERRIBLE, I suppose, but it isn’t Goethe for God’s sake! Oh, Emily, I implore you not to think ill of me! Please, Emily, it’s not that your little tattoo isn’t terribly amusing to YOU, as I’m sure it is, but I just always assumed you knew better,” it wouldn’t be so ridiculous. As it is, this woman is a cartoon character.
And you’re more than “not a bad writer.”
terrible thing about internets: stupid shit that girls write about you in their diaries becomes public shit that haunts your memory if you are reckless/egotistical enough to google yourself.
I always said that diarists wouldn’t write diaries if they didn’t secretly want someone to read them (otherwise, what is THE INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD for?). this brave new world of blogness confirms it…
the hardest thing to come to terms with isn’t that people write mean things on blogs
it’s that people think mean things all the time inside their heads and sometimes, some of them write them on blogs.
if you can come to terms with that - with strangers sometimes thinking you’re an arse, or not loving your tattoos, or thinking you’re a bad writer - and still like yourself -
you’ll be a man, my son (or more appropriate words to that effect.)
i say this as a fellow sufferer. I once read a series of internet attacks on me by a stranger, and I obsessed for years about finding out her real identity and RUINING HER LIFE somehow. I still feel THE BURN OF RAGE about it occasionally. But the thing is, if I’m realistic: it’s pretty clear she doesn’t know me personally, and if she doesn’t like my writing or my public persona, that’s nothing I can change. (I don’t have tattoos but if I did I bet she’d hate on those too.) Obsessing over people who don’t like you is the same insecure-teen tendency as chasing after boys who don’t phone back. Concentrate on the people who DO appreciate you!
and speak to yourself frankly about whether your gripe is with the all-revealing internet, or with being criticised at all…?
in closing though, you devalue yourself by giving time to the thoughts of some mealy-mouthed insecure person who hardly knows you and (reading between the lines) thinks her husband fancies you.
Bottom line is that this post was very entertaining and got 92 comments. Y’all are missing the point! Catty shit like this and the stuff on Gawker was her specialty. Very well written and entertaing.
Which is why I always post as anonymous. She’s scary!!!
Emily, I love your writing style!
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[...] Socialite Rank, Gawker and yes this long line of Internet “research” led me back to Emily Gould. I first heard about Emily nearly a year ago at a Gawker drinks night, the new-mediarati had [...]