Dear James Franco (can we call you James, or do you prefer Jimmy, or Mr. Franco?),
You give so much of yourself to the world, we feel like we know you. And we can’t help but be a little concerned. There is only so much James Franco to go around and by putting so much of yourself out there, it’s a wonder you haven’t gone into eternal solitude from all the attention. I mean, honestly, how do you do it?
As one of the most famous multi-hyphenates around, is it hard to keep up with it all? You’re an actor, director, producer, screenwriter, teacher, author and a poet. (Are we missing anything?) When there’s only so much of you to go around, it’s amazing how you keep up with it all and how you keep on giving. Your latest short story in Vice? Where did you find the time? We wouldn’t want you overextending yourself and can’t help but think about the exhaustion you must be feeling after churning out that kajillion-word essay.
Oh, that deep, meaningful,
not-so-short story — making Lindsay Lohan the main character? Genius. But, at the same time, slightly obvious. One hears the name “Lindsay Lohan,” and can’t help but associate it with the Chateau Marmont. It has been her hell-raising stomping grounds for what seems to be decades so we guess it’s understandable. But to make it about a young woman who is famous for slurring her words is a little harsh, no? Trashing someone who doesn’t really need any help destroying her own reputation is a little low, even for you, James. Plus, it’s not entirely believable. Lindsay isn’t clever enough to come up with an insult as brilliant as “bookworm punk blogger fa**ot.”
You bounce back and forth between Lindsay and Gus Van Sant, with mentions of River Phoenix, Leonardo DiCaprio and Lukas Haas in between and your complex prose was all a bit much for those of us whose brains don’t function the way yours does. We do want to point out, James, all that name-dropping? Come on, man, you’re better than that!
So Lindsay stalked you while you were both living at the Marmont, she forced her way into your bungalow, and instead of sex, you read her J.D. Salinger stories because innocent girls dig ’em. Such a gentleman. You did stroke her hair, you did converse her but WE GET IT. You did not put your thing in her thing.
James, you’ve insisted numerous times that you did not or would not have sex with Lindsay but we can’t help but wonder, since that wacky mind of yours works in mysterious ways, perhaps it was your warped way of chasing us off the scent, you know, that whole “doth protest too much” thing. Like, maybe if you say it enough times, people will believe that you did not have relations with that woman. It’s her word against yours and since you are so reputable and she is — what did you call her? — “this dragon girl, lion girl, Hollywood hellion, terror of Sunset Boulevard, minor in the clubs, Chateau Demon,” why would anyone take her word over yours? Just curious, though. Was it really worth all the effort of stringing that many words together? All Lindsay did was put your name on a list with other dudes she claims she boned. No biggie. But like all the other guys who made the Lohan sex cut, you also could have just kept quiet about it and saved yourself some time and energy.
There are worse things than being on Lindsay’s bang list. (Right?) You could hit on underage girls or post icky underwear selfies of yourself on social media. Oh, wait… The difference is, you can delete awkward photos. Lohan will be branded a liar for years to come. Your words can hurt, James.
Are you lying down? At the very least, you should be sitting, resting that brain, perhaps being fanned by someone while another feeds you grapes. Though we do have a word of advice, James/Jimmy/Mr. Franco. Take a break, without any sort of technology nearby. No computer, no tablet, no phone, no Twitter and, for the love of all that is pure and holy, no Instagram. Just enjoy some good old-fashioned quiet time. Oh, and one more thing. Don’t ever invoke Salinger again. Consider him off limits.
With the utmost sincerity,