"Temporarily living outside of her natural celeb-friendly West coast habitat where any late-night messiness is handily kept on the DL by celebrity-catering club warlords, the recently rehabbed star is currently staying in New York while filming All Good Things. And the many sightings sent in by helpful Manhattanites haven’t exactly painted Dunst as the soberific poster child perfected of late by Miss Lindsay Lohan. The NY Post chimes in today reporting that Dunst continued her boy-crazy habits of yore by making out with the DJ at the celeb-infested Beatrice Inn two nights ago. But a Defamer tipster had the pleasure of spotting Kirsten last night at the same bar, and rather than cozying up to the same DJ, the actress spent the entire night flirting, following, and eventually frisking another Beatrice regular: that talented thespian, Josh Hartnett. But it seems that as soon as master thespian Josh showed up around 1am, Dunst abandoned her cigarette bumming and devoted all her attention to the newly shaven star:As soon as Josh came in with a couple of wingmen of his own, Kirsten went straight towards him and spent a good half hour laughing and chatting him up by the bar — their faces were so close, they might as well have been eskimo-kissing. And even though Kirsten followed Josh whenever he changed rooms, up the stairs when he went up to survey the dance floor still lorded over by the seated Olsen, and down the stairs when he needed a refill, he was definitely reciprocating. The one non-nauseating sight? Didn't see Dunst take one sip of anything. MK/Olsen/Whichever, on the other hand..."
The icing on the cake? Another source tells us, "My friend saw Josh and Kirsten leave together." Source: defamer.com Kirsten Dunst waits her turn at the bar "It seems that being a Hollywood star doesn’t guarantee you’ll be served quickly at a bar. Kirsten Dunst patiently waited her turn at the opening party of Derrick Cruz’s new art installation in New York". Source: www.glamourmagazine.co.uk
"The word tragic is possibly the most over-used in the English media, but that's the only way to describe Heath Ledger's death at 28 at the beginning of this year.
The Australian actor had already completed his role as The Joker in Christopher Nolan's sequel to Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and here's a first, world exclusive look (barring the bravura but blurry five-minute clip of the opening sequence which keeps popping up online before being unceremoniously felled by the relevant authorities) at this most menacing of performances.
Hard to tell whether talk of an Oscar nod is appropriate from this short segment, which centres on the unwelcome arrival of the super-villain and his henchmen at a black tie dinner, but I love the hunched, feral intensity of Ledger's Joker. The facially scarred, heavily made-up criminal is looking for Harvey Dent, Gotham's new district attorney, and a man who (at the start of the film at least) has cleaned up the city's streets so effectively that Batman wonders if it might be time to hang up his Batcape for good.
Many wondered whether Ledger, a relative ingenue compared to Jack Nicholson, could match the veteran's famous turn in Tim Burton's 1989 Batman, but in my opinion this visceral new take on the character makes his predecessor's look like a hammy pantomime act.
"My mom says that I'll alway be a perpetual teenager, and I hope she is right about it. [...] So highschool is like an embryo of how your adult life probably will develop. It's the time you secretly begin to take notes in your mind about things you didn't suspect they existed" -maybe those jv years marked me so hard that after watching "Brick" I developed a crush on Joseph Gordon-Levitt, remember? and now, well, we have umpteen videos being uploaded by me dedicated to Mike Cera, so let's see, it seems to me this can be called a new crush in Weirdland. Kendra is in love again after watching two "high-school" movies as "Superbad" and "Juno", which partially were about pre-college days, both starred by Michael Cera. I resisted at first (mainly because he's way younger than me -although don't be fooled, my mental maturity is far away from my age- so that balances things a bit, k?) This canadian blonde guy Mr. Awkward Character reminds me of my high-school crush with whom I shared my little luxurious world at the time, he conquered my insouciant teen soul when he played -he actioned the play button- in a secret session a song that tuned my heart (although my heart got hurt in the process). Just in the moment we (very shyly) started to dance together I had this crazy thought of when the peak of the song would come maybe I couldn't stand it, that's why I was hurt, I was afraid of that moment coming, that could become real [...] how many times does the dull mute soundtrack outside of weirdland make me remember that song that melts my thought, that dissolves my fears? from the previous post New affiliate Michael Cera Source. continued:
I weighted for one moment the options I had with him, the shy interesting guy, and I got lost in a dubious jungle of cognitive decline. He approached to me and I parted from his loving ways... I was living in the librarian league, I read a lot the same four books that never were returned and I used glasses, my social life was very limited, whereas he was the outcast who attracted a variety of people, most of them very different of me. And I knew a relationship between us would make us an irreparable damage, so although it was painful cutting our bond out just after our particular prom dance I chose to leave it that way. Painful like an open wound, like a broken nerve, which in troublesome times would bleed again, and it would hurt because it had never healed. The good part is neither me or him are too dramatic persons, and as far as I know he chose another girl, very different from me. Probably she would flip when she figured out who his first girlfriend had been in highschool but whatever. So my mind would fly to under-construction Phantastes fields and in these episodes I imagined him turned into a rock star singing in front of highschoolers and receiving good critics from independent fanzines. His life had to be good, just to justify my own lack of it. And a Saturday evening we would find each other in a Chinatown corner, like in that tale, and his eyes would turn yellow and he would hide them wearing sunglasses, and only me would know his secret, like in that story “Rage” by Bachman/King, when in the Palahniukesque ending Charlie lives in a mental asylum, pretending he likes flan dessert when he actually hates it; one normal guy wouldn’t understand why he eats a dessert he finds disgusting, but Charlie says he likes to have a secret, something nobody knows about it, because that secret makes him more powerful. It’s intriguing how much this idea about a constrained mind by a secret can create a pathological blessing, how much our movie secrets are part of our starved minds and how these smooth motions alter our perception forever. And this guy, like Michael Cera could do, would sit in front of me inside an unknown bistro in a similar city to L.A. and would say “We have no idea where this will go" and he would try to explain me some hollywood novelties, but I would be very far away, and he would go on talking about self-generated awareness, deadpan encoding and his favourite tea brands, and I would be smiling at him, patient and quiet.
He would stand up and a window panel, sort of a hollow screen, would slide down, just like a theatre curtain would do over his shoulders, showing a transparent world where neither him or me would ever belong. And he'd drink from my glass, without noticing my traces of lipstick on it. "I liked your performance, and the line you had in the end" -I would whisper. And he would say: “you know that line, It was you”, but I wouldn’t want to believe him. “That world seems empty when you look at it outside”, and we, our words, the bistro, the stained glass, his awarded line, that highschool dance, his relucient lips, that kiss, all would become dust. And I wouldn't blush anymore.
But it seems that as soon as master thespian Josh showed up around 1am, Dunst abandoned her cigarette bumming and devoted all her attention to the newly shaven star:As soon as Josh came in with a couple of wingmen of his own, Kirsten went straight towards him and spent a good half hour laughing and chatting him up by the bar — their faces were so close, they might as well have been eskimo-kissing. And even though Kirsten followed Josh whenever he changed rooms, up the stairs when he went up to survey the dance floor still lorded over by the seated Olsen, and down the stairs when he needed a refill, he was definitely reciprocating. The one non-nauseating sight? Didn't see Dunst take one sip of anything. MK/Olsen/Whichever, on the other hand..."
Kirsten Dunst waits her turn at the bar
