She’s Only Seventeen.

Dear James Franco,

I grew tired of writing to you, so I took a one-year vacation. I’m back now because you screwed up. See, I wrote a contract to myself three years ago when I started this blog. I agreed that I’d make your fortunes and misfortunes my opportunity. I’m heartless and shallow. I realized this a year ago, and stopped writing. I couldn’t live myself.

That’s a lie. The truth is I’m ambivalent about your literary career, and therefore have nothing to say.   

I got dental surgery this week, I had an infection running from the nerves in my teeth all the way up into my sinuses. My brain has been altered because of the infection. The ethical and self-critical part of me, which has kept me away form this blog, has decayed. Now, without any shame, I’m back in gossip-mode, capitalizing on your woes in order to attract upwards of seven people to this blog. 

Here’s what I have to say about you being creepy, and how to get yourself out of trouble. Show the world the diversity of your affections. You need to bang a senior citizen. Climb up in that ass, as they say. Hit that shit, as they say. No, I’m not being insensitive here, because I’m not talking about your normal senior, someone just recently over the hill, but, rather, an impossibly great-great-great-grandmother, a woman older than coal… she’s got to have a bent hairpin posture, her skin has to look like a sun-bleached curtain that’s been eaten up by moths over the last fifty decades. Someone who wouldn’t be offended by this post; instead, she’d say, “Thank you Don for enticing that fine young man to fornicate with me. He’s certainly the fountain of youth! I feel so much better about myself, and I want nothing more to stick around for another decade.”

You like the internet. Here are some hook-up-with-seniors websites:


I also suggest you do the rumpy-pumpy with a dude. Look, I can view the search terms that have led people to my blog. Some of them are outrageous and absurd, like, “What is the song that makes Kirsten Dunst fart.” I have no idea why my blog was suggested for that inquiry. But I’ll tell you this: I see many, many search terms that indicate male erotic fascination over you. Half of them have to do with dudes who have a James Franco foot fetish. So why not let a guy suck your toes? 

See, widening the scope of your sex life will work better than claiming your recent activity was performance art or research for a role you’re going to play in a film. Nobody will believe that. If you apologize publicly for your behavior, people will immediately think it’s an insincere gesture. If you blame it on drugs (“I’d taken Ambien, and I don’t remember doing it”) and go to rehab, the world will wait for you to relapse (though, your familiarity with the 12-Steps and the Big Book of AA, as seen in your recent novel, have made me raise my brow). If you find Buddhism and denounce desire, we’ll think you’re a quack… that you’re going through a Madonna-finds-Kabbalah phase. These are all predictable, celebrity-in-trouble moves. What we wouldn’t expect is for you to go on a nation-wide fucking spree, one in which even the cows aren’t safe. Consider this hypothetical headline: “James Franco Sleeps with Everyone and Everything.” Case closed. You can’t argue with that. The people who voice moral outrage will be trumped by the hordes expressing their fascination. Everyone will think big-picture and ask one another, “What did James Franco fuck today?” rather than responding to an isolated incident: “I can’t believe James tried to hook up with a minor.”

Do it James. Open your legs for all of us.

If you’re going to dismiss my suggestion, at the very least I can offer some solace with a link to this old, old, rock video.  


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About Letters to James Franco

My name is Don Peteroy. I'm a PhD. candidate at University of Cincinnati. My major has a long name, so try to say it in one breath: "English and Comparative Literature with a Creative Dissertation." I spent the majority of my adult years as a social worker. I decided it's pointless to help people, so I've devoted the rest of my life to reading and writing. Here's all my publications and works in progress: My novella, "Wally," published by Burrow Press, in the fall of 2012. Novella: "A World Without Owls" Unpublished. Novel: "My Helicopter Heart" Unpublished. A failed playwright stalks Kirsten Dunst during the Christian apocalypse. My short story, "The Circuit Builders" is the winner of the 2012 Playboy College Fiction contest, and will appeared in the October 2012 issue. Here's are more published and forthcoming short stories: "The Trouble With Hello is Goodbye": Arcadia Magazine 7, 2014. "Kurt Vonnegut Didn't Like Me" Online Sundries, 2/14 "Because I Want to Know You" forthcoming reprint in Short Story America "A Hole Without A Rim," forthcoming in the Florida Review "Keeping it for Good," The Heartland Review. Forthcoming. “A Penny In A Pill Bottle,” Dislocate, Winter 2012. “Because I Want to Know You” Yemessee, 19.2, 2002. “The Sluggers” Santa Carla Review. Spring 2012. “Maps and Legends” Chattahoochee Review. Spring 2012. “Melinda, Listen to Me” Permafrost, vol. 33, 2011. “Rondo” Licking River Review, Fall 2011. “The Ugly Marriage Counselor” Eleven Eleven, vol.11, 2011. “The Healing Frequency” Newport Review, Summer 2011. “His Name Equals His Name” The Ultimate Writer Magazine, Summer 2011. “This Is How I Will Hold You” The Westchester Review, vol. 5, 2011. “In Accordance To The Needs Of A Canadian Literary Magazine” Worcester Review, vol. 31.1, 2011. “Too Much Anthropology” Cream City Review, vol. 34.2, 2011. “There Are No Fragments” Ellipsis, vol. 46, 2010. “Confessions of a Misunderstood Sidekick” Farallon Review, vol.3, 2010 “One Day, God Will Kill Everyone” Oyez Review, vol. 37, 2010. “When Hawks Make Love” The Susquehanna Review, Fall 2009. “Goddess Corpse” The Maynard, Fall 2009. “Misconceptions About the Nature of Blood” CRIT Journal, Summer 2009. “Go Up” The Cynic, Fall 2009. “The Misuse of Old British Words” Two Hawks Quarterly, Spring 2009. “Dead or Unlisted” The Rejected Quarterly, Spring 2003. “Sleep Log” The Timber Creek Review, Spring 2002. There are other stories out there, somewhere, but I've lost track. Awards: “From One Object to Another.” Finalist for the Glimmer Train Short Fiction Award, 2009. “His Name Equals His Name” Finalist for the Gulf Coast Donald Barthelme Award, 2009. “In Accordance To The Needs Of A Canadian Literary Magazine” 2011 Pushcart Prize nominee. "A World Without Owls." Finalist, Gold Line Press Chapbook Contest, 2011. “Confessions of a Misunderstood Sidekick” Sacramento Stories on Stage Series in California, June 2011. "The Circuit Builders" winner of the Playboy College Fiction Award 2012. "The Trouble With Hello is Goodbye" nominated for a Pushcart Award.

4 responses to “She’s Only Seventeen.”

  1. Elissa Lauren says :

    Thanks, James. I’m glad that you’re back.

  2. Anne Elise says :

    James, I respectfully disagree with what you are suggesting. An apology, however contrived and insincere, is better than no apology. Especially when it involves your sex life. If you feel up to it, take the Shia LaBeouf approach and put a bag over your head. Invite random people to sit at a table with you in a small room so you can just stare at them and cry.

    No matter what, never leave people hanging and wondering what you’ll do next becaus

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  4. Terry Lee says :

    This post is so good to read. Amazing!!
    Many thanks for sharing, I will post it on my blog to share with my friends?

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