James Franco: The Worst Writer In the History of the Written Word

"When Obama entered, the crowd converged," says the poet James Franco. "Finally, I got to shake his hand. He knew me from Spider-Man."

I don’t even know what to call this kind of writing. Is it poetry? Is it creative/expressive writing? Is it gibberish — the thoughts of a man stoned out of his mind? Whatever it’s called, he’s serious and this stuff actually gets published. On that note, I thought I would take a crack at it.

My James Franco: I’ll call it, “When Worlds Collide”

I once drove my car down a river. Strange I know but roads are made for people going places. I imagined how strange it must be to a fish. To see a car driving down a river. Me driving my car through their living room. Their watery world full of bubbles and currents. Then I thought, wait! — probably not any more strange than when I see a fish inside a fishbowl in my living room.

You can see what I mean here. But here’s a taste if you must see now.

I love driving down an empty dark freeway, lit up intermittently by the lights at the side of the road, and when I see the lights, I think of all the little worlds out there, all the little animals living in their habitats out there, and how we could pull over and have an adventure at any one of these forgotten pockets of the world, just nothing zones, backwash refuse property in the wake of the great freeways… (Via Esquire)

Gripping…

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