LITERATURE À TROIS: Hilton plans to work in the tradition of Wilde and Gramsci. That’s hot. |
On Sunday, June 3, just after 11:30 pm, Paris Hilton entered the Century Regional Detention Facility in Lynwood, California, to begin a 23-day jail sentence for violating her probation on a DUI and reckless-driving case. According to the New York Daily News, Paris is planning to keep a prison diary for publication later this year. “No doubt Oscar Wilde’s Ballad of Reading Gaol is one of her inspirations,” the News quipped. Well, make that Naomi Campbell. Indeed, it seems fair to assume that Paris’s prison diaries will prove decidedly less political or closely observed than those of, say, Antonio Gramsci and Nelson Mandela.
Below are several entries Paris might feel compelled to record.
June 4, 1:10 am
Dear Diary,
This place is HEINOUS. It’s The Simple Life, but not a joke! I don’t even know where to start. It smells weird. I look horrible in this orange jumpsuit. But I worked it out in my mug shot. I was the Hotness. I hope they use that for the book cover. I’d be partying at Les Deux right now if I weren’t here. Why is the world so harsh? :’(
June 11, 6:33 am
Dear Diary,
I haven’t been woken up this early by the sound of someone else crying like a little bitch since I was dating Stavros and he peed in our bed that one time. OMG, it’s been a week. An entire fucking week without texting, drugs, booze, or sex. I don’t know if I can do this!!! Even my hair hurts, and it isn’t even real.
June 13, 5:04 pm
Dear Diary,
In the yard today I could hear the paparazzi screaming stuff. They couldn’t see me, but I posed anyway. It felt so good. I’m starting to realize what’s important to me. I wish I could fly, and feel my freedom while floating in the sky. Hey, that sort of sounds like poetry! :P Jail is really bringing out my creative side.
June 22, 10:42 pm
HOLY SHIT, DIARY! It’s almost over. Gross food. Fugly guards. The worst mattress ever. I’m still pretty relaxed cause I’ve mostly been staring off into space and sleeping. I did re-read the first few pages of The Secret. I just don’t get what “the secret” is, so I used the book margins for doodling pics of baby animals. Ugh, whatever. I’m tired of writing. (Note: have someone else put something here that sounds like I’ve learned stuff.) I hope they let me drive home. I’ll keep below the speed limit of course . . . yea right! LOL! ;)
XOXO,
Paris
