*** LE FAX ***

A L’INTENTION DE: Monsieur Kurt Andersen
EXPÉDITEUR: Monsieur Graydon Carter
DATE: 22/12
NUMÉRO TÉLÉPHONIQUE: +011–1–718–XXX-XXXX

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Kurt,
Seasons greetings, Kemosabe. Always a pleasure to hear from old friends. What have you been up to lately? That magazine you sent me about trash was really terrific, just superb. I tore out the piece about those oven mitts made out of old gum wrappers in Bangladesh was it? Hysterical. I’m thinking of giving them out to the staff this year. Sorry I haven’t been able to sneak a Studio 360 item into Fanfair—it’s a real juggling act.

Your byline seems to be popping up everywhere. Did you have a piece in Details? Well done. And someone mentioned a spread in Martha Stewart Living. And something else in the Times about cooking okra. You were always in touch with your feminine side, and I envy that.

As for the SPY book, I’ve been musing about doing something similar for years. Great minds, as they say. Leigh sent over a copy of your intro. I’ve only just glanced at it, but looks really terrific, just superb.

A couple tweaks, if I may:

Don’t mean to quibble, but as I recall, Separated–at–Birth, the SPY 100, and the use of footnotes in a humorous manner were my ideas. Though you’re right, the Liz Smith Tote Board and the postmodern use of twee typefaces last seen on an apothecary bill of sale were your babies all the way. Good stuff.

I took the liberty of copyrighting the phrase “short–fingered vulgarian” a few years back on the advice of an overzealous attorney. But don’t worry, you can use it in the book. I’ll arrange a substantial discount, something fair.

That stuff about how we invented the Internet seems dicey. “Prefigured?”

LOVE the line about our being the “Patient Zero of the snark epidemic.” Let’s disc.

As Ever,
Graydon

P.S. The bellman just dropped off a parcel from my asst. It says “from Kurt A.” Was expecting George’s text but looks to be some nonsense about a farm from the slush pile. Will have a word with her.

[DICTATED BUT NOT READ]

DATE: December 24
TO: Graydon Carter c/o Hotel Du Cap
FROM: Kurt Andersen
FAX: +011–33–4–93–67–76–04

G,
I think you might be talking about the draft of my new novel. It’s called Heyday, a droll exploration of the techno–fragmentation of urban thoughtscapes, set against the faute–de–mieux of brand signifiers and hyper–identity politics—as seen through the eyes of an eight–year–old hip–hop prodigy.

I’ve attempted also to capture the bathos of the modern condition at its ne plus ultra, when the emotional negation of our “experience” is compounded by the blogging community’s embrace of neo–heuristics. You might also recognize the voice of Clytemnestra in Coco Bryant, an interpretive dance choreographer/A.I. programmer who falls tragically in love with my Proustian antihero, Thor Stainsright, a video artist who makes ends meet doing retail sales at Bang and Olufsen. As an exercise, I instituted a forced departure from the belle–lettristic tone of my past work so that I might better engage with the raw intensity of the streets. I think you’ll approve.

Would love to hear your thoughts.

And I’ll address your concerns about the SPY intro, thanks.

–Kurt

P.S. The Details piece was the work of an imposter—no doubt some degenerate freelancer we eviscerated back in the day. He set up a fake email account and duped everyone at the magazine, which does not appear to be difficult. I may sue but can’t help feel a certain sympathy for Dan Peres, the publishing equivalent of a horse with three broken legs. He needs to be put down, but I don’t want to be the one to do it.