At the tender of age of thirteen, my remarkable acting talent was already gracing the stages of one of the outer boroughs.

And, as always, the forth estate was there. The press photo for To Kill A Mockingbird, in this clipping from a local newspaper, hints at the passionate depths of my performance. In this one moment, captured forever only on paper, I am able to convey so many things — standing, looking, wearing overalls — that one cannot help but wish that one could travel back through time, if only to watch a few moments of my remarkable portrayal of "Jem" live.

I received, of course, a rave review:
• "Jon Van Gieson is totally winning..." [Advance, 6/15/87]

The day of linkage, like the pale light of the sun bouncing off the lawn chair of existence and dropping slowly and with the soft splash of regret into the rancid swimming pool of my next door neighbor's back yard, has come to an end.

To those of you to whom I linked, there is no need to thank me. In a way, I envy you. Never again will I know the simple joy of being given, if only briefly, the thrilling gift of a celebrity's attention.

Yes, I miss that simple joy, and all the simple joys of being one of the little people, like you. But I have chosen my path, and — even though a tear glistens, on occasion, in the corner of my eye — I will never look back. I will never look back.

Will 601am ever stop stalking me?

I make a cameo, alongside Harry Connick Jr., in "Philllipe and Jorge's Cool Cool World", which (if I remember correctly) was — for a newspaper column — a fairly tasty sandwich.

For some reason, editrix Elizabeth Spiers neglected to include me in the Gawker six month roundup. I can only assume that this is because she was drunk off her blogging ass when writing the post. Although I don't have exact numbers, at rough estimate my coverage on Gawker falls somewhere between that of Trucker Hats and Jayson Blair.

Why would this woman link to me one day, and then pretend not to know who I am the next? Was she dazzled by my charm? Intimidated by my good looks? Humbled by my fame? Or was it something... darker?

One fan is up at arms about The Times' failure to quote me in their last article on blogging.

One of the sad truths about fame is that when you give of yourself by graciously deigning to make an appearance, it is inevitable that some overzealous fan will snap a picture of you and sell it to the press. In this shot, I am being accosted by a strange woman who claimed to write for a website called "Gothamist," which, according to the OED, isn't even a word.

Apparently, someone commenting on Below 14th has "smelled me."

Every so often, bitter readers submit complaints about the low level of linkage on jvg.com. In an attempt to rectify that oversight, today's posts will link to blogs I've encountered with items of interest.

RouletteGirl's back from the concert in Baghdad, reporting that Kid Rock stole the show. And how could he not? "Kid" has built a career using a mix of vintage JVG c. 1993 style with a snarky JVG c. 1987 attitude, a surefire recipe for success.

I await — with a mix of trepidation and desire — the day when some savvy marketer melds JVG c. 1975 style with a JVG c. 1999 attitude. Ladies, start your engines.

My 15-year old brother wonders:

"Do you think there's a pumpkin for every monkey in the world?"

After a few minutes contemplation, he concludes:

"I guess pumpkins are out of season right now."

Being the fifth in an ongoing series of rare and unpublished works by the author which, for one reason or another, were never presented to the public at large.

Title: "Turtleneck-Clad Semiotics Student Fails to Recognize Artistic Merit of 'Comic Strip' Genre"
Date: 1996
Created for: "The Grand Opening of the Brand New Gallery of Low Art, featuring the works of Jonathan Van Gieson" (Required Senior Year Solo Art Show)
Intended purpose: Con art department into awarding me undergraduate degree
Success rate: 94%

Excerpts from Review:

"Van Gieson's 'Mockery of Self' Consistently Fails to Hit the Mark" by Jay Veegee (Good Clean Fun, 1/96)

...The title of the show presumably attempts to challenge the conception of cartoons as “low art,” however, there is no evidence in support of that challenge in this exhibit. Van Gieson is unflagging in his defense of the medium, often to the point of nausea... What Van Gieson fails to realize is that even if they were not “cartoons,” one would be hard pressed to classify his efforts as “art.”

The persistent self-deprecation extant in the presentation and publicity for the show was more wearying than poignant... This mockery of self, prevalent throughout the exhibit, consistently missed the mark, and one found onesself wondering if Van Gieson is at all aware where the true deficiencies in his art lie.

One got the feeling, as one often does with student shows, that Van Gieson spent more time with the concept of this exhibit than with the content. It is sad that neither of the two have much depth..."

I was reading Ulysses.

In order to serve you better, Verizon has downgraded your DSL to dialup. Also, because of unusually high call volume, we are unable to take your call at this time. Please call back later.

JLY writes:

"I'm not jumping off a bridge after all -- this reminded me that life is worth living:

http://wingmusic.co.nz/listen.html

After several kegs of "research," the Huber Brewery website has been tapped, putting a smooth, frothy head on an intoxicating pint of internet.

My favorite feature: the Beerfinder, conceived and developed by FictCo, which recommends the perfect Huber brews for your particular needs, based on your tastes, desires, and friends.

• Huber Brewery
• Beerfinder

This week: the incessant pressures of fame leave me with very little time to share my wisdom with the world in "blog" form. Therefore, another Italy photo:

Venice, 03.11.2000

My sources have revealed that Yeardley Smith, the voice of Lisa Simpson, is developing a show called The Good Life, which—if my insider info is accurate—will include juicy Hollywood gossip, sordid personal secrets, and the story of her bathroom-tiling stalker. Apparently, they're doing a work-in-progress sneak-preview reading over at Joe's Pub this Friday.

• Reading of The Good Life by Yeardley Smith, at Joe's Pub. Friday, June 13th @ 7:00pm. Twelve bucks.

Rome, 03.18.2000

Walking down Greenwich Avenue towards 7th, accompanied by a woman arm in arm with Bill Clinton. Clinton is shorter than I imagined, the top of his head even with my shoulder, a charismatic dwarf. We talk of many things. Around us, a street fair. In a doorway, four giants, well-built, naked, four shades of bronze, towering over us, perhaps holding the lintel in place. An American flag hangs from their heads, an art installation? A protest?

I mock as we pass... are they patriots or patriarchs? This tickles Clinton, he chuckles. He chuckles, and doesn't stop.

He is chuckling still as we reach 7th Ave. A truck runs over some detritus; it rolls out from under the back tires towards the curb. I point out that it looks like a fox. Clinton is still chuckling. Then I notice: the detritus has picked itself up and is trying to drag itself out of the road.

It is a cat. A grey, fluffy cat, limping, right eye red with blood. Cars zoom by, it is almost hit again. I run over, yelling, waving cars away, and pick it up. Its paws flail wildly. It is attempting to purr. I am crying.

Its paws, almost fingers, flail. It nearly mews. I say goodbye and head up 7th to a vet. I remember there is a vet nearby. I am taking the cat to a vet. I can't stop crying.

Clinton is still chuckling as they walk downtown.

Friendster, in their "weekly email," posits the following query:

>*** WANT TO BE FAMOUS?

Speaking of Friendster, after a couple of weeks of playing around with the service, I've discovered what it's best for: toying with the delicate psyches of your friends and acquaintances. Ah, the bitter joy. Ah, the delicious power.

Top Friendster Power Games:

The Pre-Rejection
You just signed up for Friendster, and you notice that I've been using it for a month, and didn't invite you. Perhaps we're just not as close as you thought we were.

The Delayed Approval
You can see by my profile that I was active yesterday. You sent me a "new friend request" three days ago. I haven't approved it. Maybe it's because I'm waiting to see if anyone worthwhile signs up to be your friend before I commit to having you on my friends list.

The Unreciprocated Testimonial
You wrote me a very nice testimonial three weeks ago, yet your page still displays the pathetic notice: "No testimonials yet. You can add the first!" Gosh, it looks like you're more interested in me than I am in you, doesn't it?

The Mexican Standoff
You're one of John Smith's friends. I'm one of John Smith's friends. We know each other, we can clearly see each other in the "John Smith's Friends" page, and yet neither of us has attempted to add the other as a friend. It's a battle for status, and the first person to send the new friend request will forever be the loser.

Once again, Movable Type comes through, allowing jvg.com to introduce an high-technology RSS feed.

Of course, the jvg.com has not a clue what an high-technology RSS feed might be, but those of you with the knowhow and gumption have my permission to go "hog wild."

RSS | XML

God, can I visit a city without getting press? A brief stop in Providence for a chat with the FBI (indictments pending) and lo and behold, three days later, I make the papers. The price of fame is paid in blood and ink. Also in pudding. Sadly, such has been the case from the very moment of my birth.

In the more recent article, the author describes me as "a brainy guy with chest-length hair and gold rings in each earlobe." One supposes it could have been worse: he could have pegged me as "a chesty guy with ear-length brains and gold hairy ringlobes."

• Cianci Saga Goes from Page to Stage [Providence Journal]
for those who want to read the article without the lengthy registration process, use this login:
email: projo @ jonathanvangieson.com, pass: famous