attention!

Hey, you! Yeah you, the one with bloodshot eyes staring into the computer monitor. Pay attention to me for a minute, will you?

Thus pleads the writer, the musician, the actor, the go-go dancer. We who are compelled by the spirit of art along with the indelible indignities of our childhoods to entertain anonymous masses merely ask that you sit down, be quiet, and pay attention to us. Then make lots of noise at the end by applying one palm forcefully against the other, and shouting in Italian.

Isn't it funny that you typically pay us for the privilege of providing this grotesque substitute for what Mom or Dad should have supplied when we were little? Optimally, that kind of work should fall to mental health professionals, who are well paid, or to significant others, who ideally can work out some kind of barter arrangement with one another. You in the audience should wake up to the fact that your labor is being exploited. Consider forming a union.

Having long hungered for fame, I find myself feasting on odd crumbs of it this summer. The latest fifteen minutes came to my attention today when I found out that one of my News.com stories was Exhibit 2789 in the closing arguments of the current trial of the century.

MR. LACOVARA: WITH THAT AS PROLOGUE, I WOULD LIKE TO OFFER INTO EVIDENCE AND PLACE BEFORE THE WITNESS DEFENDANT'S EXHIBIT 2789, A NEWS.COM ARTICLE -- AND I CHECKED -- THAT CAME OUT APPROXIMATELY TWO HOURS BEFORE YOUR HONOR'S COMMENT, AND WAS ENTITLED "WEB-BASED APPLICATIONS DEBUT IN DROVES." SOMETIMES, YOUR HONOR, WE GET LUCKY. YOU WILL NOTE THE PUBLICATION TIME IS IN THE DOCUMENT, YOUR HONOR. AND I OFFER IT AT THIS TIME.

I'm not sure what comment of Judge Jackson's the Microsoft defense is referring to. I include this information because the judge later pays me a very nice compliment related to it.

MR. BOIES: MAY I INQUIRE AS TO WHAT THE PURPOSE OF THE OFFER IS -- WHETHER IT'S BEING OFFERED FOR THE TRUTH OF THE MATTERS ASSERTED?

MR. LACOVARA: IT IS BEING OFFERED AS THE EXPRESSION OF THE WRITER'S OPINION ABOUT TRENDS IN THE SOFTWARE DEVELOPMENT ARENA.

The writer's opinion? Whose, mine? Microsoft is reading my little old opinion into evidence? Oh stop.

MR. BOIES: ON THAT BASIS, NO OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR.

THE COURT: DEFENDANT'S 2789 IS ADMITTED.

(WHEREUPON, DEFENDANT'S EXHIBIT NUMBER 2789 WAS RECEIVED IN EVIDENCE.)

BY MR. LACOVARA:
Q. AND I WOULD LIKE TO REFER YOUR ATTENTION --

THE COURT: PRESCIENT WRITER.

MR. LACOVARA: SORRY?

THE COURT: PRESCIENT WRITER.

That's me. Judge Jackson is complimenting me--twice. He's calling me a prescient writer. OK, so he's being a little bit facetious, but still. If I never get a good review I'll always have this to put on the dust jacket:

"Prescient writer." -- District Judge Thomas Penfield Jackson

BY MR. LACOVARA:
Q. I WOULD LIKE TO DIRECT YOUR ATTENTION, DEAN SCHMALENSEE, TO THE LAST PARAGRAPH ON THE FIRST PAGE, AND THERE IS A CARRYOVER LINE ON THE SECOND PAGE, WHICH I SHALL READ INTO THE RECORD. SPEAKING ABOUT THE PHENOMENON OF WEB-BASED APPLICATIONS, IT SAYS, "IT HAS ALSO OPENED UP VAST OPPORTUNITIES FOR A NEW GENERATION OF UTILITY-BASED BUSINESSES SUCH AS EVITE AND TIMEDANCE, WHILE POTENTIALLY THREATENING THE TRADITIONAL DESKTOP SOFTWARE MARKET AND LESSENING THE IMPORTANCE OF THE COMPUTER OPERATING SYSTEMS ON WHICH THEY ARE DESIGNED TO RUN."

Hey, that's mine. My writing. They're talking about my prose. In court, in Washington D.C., the city where St. Monica went down on the altar of fame. I am so famous now I can't stand it.

A few coffee breaks later:

MR. BOIES:
LET ME TURN TO SOME OF THE EXHIBITS THAT MR. LACOVARA HAS USED WITH YOU. AND, FIRST, LET ME START WITH DEFENDANT'S EXHIBIT 2789, JUST BECAUSE THAT WAS THE LAST ONE HE USED WITH YOU. DO YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE THAT?

A. I DO HAVE IT.

Q. THIS IS THE ONE THAT MR. LACOVARA OFFERED FOR PURPOSES OF SHOWING THE AUTHOR'S OPINION. THE AUTHOR IS A MR. PAUL FESTA. DO YOU SEE THAT?

Oh my God, they said my name. "A MR. PAUL FESTA." I don't like the sound of that "A," though. You wouldn't say "A MR. ROB LOWE" or "A MR. GORE VIDAL." But still, that's my name resounding in the halls of justice. Now they're talking about it, about me!

A. I SEE THAT, YES.

Q. DO YOU KNOW WHO HE IS?

Why yes, indeed I do. Mr. Festa is quite a fine young man. He's not just a terrifically agile and thoughtful reporter, but a brilliant essayist and fiction writer and an ace violinist. He's got a great sense of humor, and terrific listening skills, and he's very good looking, with luminous hazel eyes, a good strong jaw, and the majority of his hair. Also he's hung like a horse.

A. NO, I DO NOT.

Uh-oh.

Q. DO YOU KNOW WHAT HIS QUALIFICATIONS ARE?

OK, and your point?

A. NO, I DO NOT, OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT HE IS EMPLOYED BY CNET NEWS, WHICH IS AN ENTITY I'VE HEARD OF, TO COVER THIS AREA. BUT I DON'T KNOW THE MAN'S BACKGROUND.

Q. DO YOU KNOW WHAT RESEARCH, IF ANY, HE DID FOR THIS ARTICLE?

Implying, of course, that I pulled it directly out of my ass.

A. NO, I DO NOT.

Q. IS THIS THE KIND OF THING THAT YOU ORDINARILY RELY ON IN DOING YOUR ECONOMIC ANALYSIS?

Oh, great. Now he's is making it sound like Microsoft introduced my starfucking post into evidence. Boy, if they did that I'd really be famous.

Meanwhile, back in San Francisco, what remains of the fifty thousand printed copies of The Official 1999 San Francisco PRIDE GUIDE is sitting around in disheveled piles in bookstores and sex clubs and bars. This week, tens of thousands of images of me will be pulped, as fitting a fate for that lousy orange picture as I can imagine but also of course for fame, my temptress, my charlatan, my toxic banquet of crumbs.