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Revisiting Daul Kim’s “I Like to Fork Myself”

November 25th, 2009 | 8 comments | Posted by Jen

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Celebrity death vultures have been busy the last week picking over the bones of 20 year-old, South Korean model Daul Kim, who was found hanged in her Paris apartment in an apparent suicide November 19, which may explain why her blog, I Like to Fork Myself–scoured by reporters as though it were a suicide note (before the alleged existence of an actual suicide note was revealed)–has since been switched to invite-only and is no longer available for public rubbernecking viewing.

I, too, have been guilty of participating in this scavenger hunt, the search for the why behind her death. A year-and-a-half ago, I wrote about Daul Kim and the things I liked about her: her goofy-cool factor, her bangs, and her blog, which I described as a “zany, irreverent diary of her fashism experiences.” When I read of her death, my first impulse was to return to the site and figure out what I had missed. I mean, zany and irreverent? Were these words one could really use to describe someone who had taken her own life? What dark thoughts and creeping shadows had I failed to see on the edges?

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RIP John Hughes

August 7th, 2009 | 0 comments | Posted by Jen

Sure, he gave us Long Duk Dong and “What’s happening, hot stuff?”–which has taken about a generation to live down–but John Hughes also gave us “Bueller…Bueller…” and “demented and sad, but social” and, more broadly, a primer on how to be an American teenager, which was pretty useful stuff when you were growing up the child of immigrant parents who couldn’t understand why you cried your eyes out when all your friends forgot your birthday and why you, say, always needed a new dress for every school dance. In his movies, Hughes laid out the quintessential teen rites of passage: first love, sweet sixteen, prom, losing your virginity, being a misfit. While most of his films centered around losers, they were filled with a healthy dose of feel-good fantasy, too–where the geek would get the girl (or boy, as it were), or the criminal would get pinned by the princess, where the girls you were supposed to fall in love with were more awkward than pretty–plotlines too implausible for real life but ones you’d cling to nevertheless, because weathering those years of rejection, growth spurts, acne, and stuffing your bra was hard enough as it was.


John Hughes stopped making teen movies right around the time I became a teenager, and I remember it being so sudden. Who was going to continue to guide me through that awful, confusing stage of life, and the next one, and then the next one? His death at age 59, from a heart attack he suffered while taking a morning walk in New York Thursday, feels just as abrupt and unfair.

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