on a particularly sultry night in june, the elevator to the sunrise apartment houses, the downtown luxury high rise building, opens onto the 52nd floor. you can reach kathleen and joey's condo by private elevator, as it takes up the entire floor and is completed with a wraparound balcony. inside, massive floor-to-ceiling windows offer unbelievable views of the twinkling isle, a view that spans miles: from the beach-going tourist crowds to the downtown-dwelling locals. that being said, the view from kathleen's apartment surely has to be the best in the city. perchance, and this would without doubt done to avoid a 'pissing match,' as the doll would say, with the scenes of such splendor, the decor is intentionally minimum. floor and hanging flora and fauna dot the house, as well as handfuls of photographs - all black and white - that are seemingly shot by kathleen or joey. in all, the locale agrees with the doll's infamous level of class, yet still seems rugged enough for the reigning hood, joey kiss. in the kitchen, their chef - an old southern man by the unforgettable name of shuggie bo bellski, sits huddled over a portable television with headlock; their two sets of eyes transfixed on a sports game. as kathleen and joey make their way into the room, shuggie snaps to attention and pours her a hot cup of tea. as for joey, shuggie turns heel and pours him a cocktail. kathleen makes a quick hand motion to headlock and he silently produces a pack of pre-rolled blunt (cigars) to her. she hands one to joey, keeps one for herself, tucks one behind her ear and the pack is returned to headlock for him to fill again.
kathleen is wearing her signature pink ballet slippers, a pair of hip-hugging denim sailor pants and a white button-down cotton shirt. her ratty blonde hair is pulled out of her face in a ponytail, giving her a classic tousled american look. she herself even remarks that she could easily pass for the casual weekend look of any 1950s homemaker. there's something about her appearance, almost as if she's wearing a mask - the life of a happy wife and mother, as opposed to the life of a troubled libertine. it's almost as if, through such a simple outfit, so unusual of her character, that she's demonstrating to the world a different, previously unseen side of her.
even her condo implies this, as all of her residences up to this point have been large mansions on the top of hillsides that generally overlooked whatever city she had currently selected. joey takes a lighter from his pants pocket and lights kathleen's blunt for her, complaining that she "always makes it run," but with a smile. she leads to the living room and takes a seat the sofa-couch. she grabs a remote and powers on her flat screen television - a popular news programme is on. the doll converses with joey for a moment, until a joke with the mention of her name forces her attention; she switches the television off and wanders over to her balcony.
this evening, the small isle of grimaldi is hidden underneath the violet clouds of sunset, though the slight chance of summer rain haunts nearby businesses, with tourists clinging close to skyscrapers for fear of bad weather. "there's nothing quite like the view of the city and the ocean, is there?" joey says half-modest and half-portentous. he nudges kathleen with a grin and says, "it's just the beach."
for her time and genre, kathleen is one of the most popular artists around. she got her start at a young age - thirteen - with the help of her parents, two well-to-do arcadians that owned a handful of successful nightclubs, restaurants and businesses. at fifteen, she was a published novelist. in her 20s now, she is no longer a child - in fact, she's ready to bear them. this brought her worldwide attention last year when the announcement of the doll's pregnancy ushered in opinions from just about everybody. the good news was all anybody could talk about for months; that is, until kathleen and joey were devastated by the loss of their unborn child, not four weeks away from birth. now, although 'in hiding,' as kathleen calls it, she rarely skips a night at her downtown studio, located not blocks away from her condo. often working until dawn on her new book entitled 💘, she attests that she rarely has time to glance at the news. "even if i did," she says, with poise, "i know people are still talking about my baby." true, the event did bring her even more unnecessary attention - including a highly publicized prime-time interview on network television.
when the anchor would ask her a question that was obviously pushing the limit of appropriate and inappropriate, kathleen would glower, sigh and then respond, "did you say something?" near the end of the programme, the anchor eventually became fed up with the lack of effort kathleen was exuding, and decided to ask about kathleen's well-documented libertine behavior, to which she responded, "i'm the doll. that's who i am. i do what i want and as the doll, my work is never finished." joey pipes up and says that her attitude would be frowned upon by traditionalists, she ignores the negativity and focuses on proving her point.
"i'm glad you said that, baby," she says, beaming, "you know, i've always believed that in order to be #1, you have to be the best at everything.
"think about all the people who have come before me: kat hanna, barbie and malibu stacy, huey p. newton, woody guthrie, artie kornfeld, babs stanwyck, dimebag darrell, jackie o. and john f. kennedy, the girls of L7 and the people of mumbo gumbo - they were the best at what they did, just like me." kathleen smirks, " i mean, once you've achieved a certain height of fame like i, you have to realize that the people beneath you are either critics or fans."
we settle onto a black leather sofa and shuggie places a plate of fresh fruits onto the glass coffee table in front of us, right next to a stack of books, about the illuminati, the ramayana and copy of ☺ in german, hindi and spanish, respectively.
kathleen grabs a slice of fruit and has shuggie retrieve another pre-rolled blunt from the pack in his shirt pocket. the doll rarely gets ashamed, but as she's lighting the 5th blunt i've seen her smoke all night, she has a look of indignity on her face. she then says, "judge all you want - i'm trying to have babies, so i 86'd the ciggie smoking months ago." in her defense, kathleen has always been a candid person. but at this point in the night, everyone in the house (sans headlock and shuggie) is stoned. kathleen especially.
joey laughs at her. "oh, baby," he says, "you now people don't care if you smoke grass or if you smoke crack-cocaine. people will still love you all the same."
she passes the blunt to him. "i've never said people will hate or love me. i'm not perfect and i can't try to achieve everyone's respect, because that's not real life.
"you want to know something? honestly, i don't think i'll ever be the greatest writer, but if i have a book dropping, you can be damn sure it's the best around. even my favorite artist hasn't done half the shit i've done. so, it's no wonder that nowadays all people ask me are things like: do you ever miss lux? i heard you still talk to jimmy kiss, is that true? are you high right now? do you believe in aliens? are you a natural blonde? - because the only thing i can respond to these types of questions is: fuck yes, only always."
she walks to the massive sliding glass door and gazes lovingly at the view of the city. "at the end of the day, it's the only thing people care about; and i couldn't care less."
