(1.) Kevin Smith, whose debut film, Clerks, just played a late-night and obscure-slot at a New York film festival, picks up his phone: “Hi, this is Amy Taubin, of The Village Voice.”
“Who is this? Is this [such-and-such]? Are you fucking with me?”
He doesn’t believe her.
(2.) Chuck Palahniuk visits the set of Fight Club, starts giving David Fincher shit about an Ikea desk they’re using. Fincher doesn’t say anything.
Chuck Palahniuk’s at home, film’s wrapped, the doorbell rings, “DING-DONG—” (“Yeah, yeah, Chuck, keep talkin’ … “) “—Delivery for Chuck Palahniuk!”
(3.) Woman flies into New York City to see Theodore Dreiser in person — she’s such a fan of his writing.
He shows up, and she says, “Oh, you’re not very good-looking, are you?”
Midwestern polite, he says, “I’m terribly sorry,” and leaves.
(She comes after him, later, anyway … )
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SOURCES: (1.) I can’t remember which-of-the-voluminous documents of Kevin Smith’s career, jump in, I’m sure you’ll find it somewhere; (2.) reading at Portland’s Bagdad Theater for Palahniuk’s then-latest novel, Damned (” … I’m auctioning it off for charity! I got a lot of use out of it.”); (3.) introduction to some-edition-or-other of Theodore Dreiser’s A Gallery of Women.
