Clarissa Coleman Re-Invented

I don't know why it never occurred to me before, but it's high time I did some inventing—re-inventing! That's right, I'm inventing what's previously been invented already. In short, myself. You will soon meet the new Clarissa Coleman, and I hope we can all get along.

It's the obvious thing to do at this point. When at first you don't succeed, vastly re-define the world's perception of you and try again, with more attitude. If Madonna can keep the world's attention, even moderately, as she hits the downhill side of 40 and shits out two kids, then a young potentially-hot property like myself should be able to come up with a new way to trick people in being interested in me again.

True, the commune thing hasn't worked out at all, at least in gaining people's respect. And writing book is a long job so I doubt I'm going the Carrie Fisher path of book-writing personality, whatever they call those. If I could get one of those ghost writers to write the book for me, but I think they usually work on biographies instead of fake books. And this might sound dumb to anybody who reads, which is practically nobody, but they aren't really ghosts, are they? That's some creepy Hellraiser shit to sell your soul just to get a book out there. They're probably not. But if they were, I would get that Homer guy who wrote "Space Odyssey" to ghost write mine. He's already real popular so he must be good, and hey, it doesn't hurt he has only one name, like Madonna. You gotta respect that.

My first instinct, like a lot of former child actors, is to do more "adult" roles—you know, snuff films. Or soft-core at least. But Dana Plato proved that's a no-go. I don't have anything personal against nudity or nothing, I'm not up on a moral high horse about it, or a horse that's high, and I would certainly do nudity if it were tasteful like that American Pie movie stuff. Soft-core movies just won't re-invent you, though, it always starts out with the promise that fans will see all of you, especially your butt, in a new light and ends in the cliché of the contested accidental death by alcohol and pills in a camper in some trashy suburban neighborhood. Maybe after I fail every other way of re-invention I'll try it, but not yet.

The music thing is a wash-out, so don't expect me to be releasing an album anytime soon. I'm still waiting for them to put out that Clarissa Coleman Gone Reggae album I recorded a few years ago, the one where the producer tried to set fire to the master tape, but they said it was going to ruin my career if I put it out, and possibly reggae music as well. I suppose I'll come back to music when I've failed at everything else, which should take a few weeks more at the very least.

I think it would be great if I can put together a one-woman show, but I don't know any women who could do it. I'd need the story of my life written up in a real funny way with some funky little tidbits of sadness and stuff, which can be made up, I'm sure, to make it more than just me doing stand-up comedy, but not much more. I'm not real funny, so maybe I'd get someone else to star in it and just sort of serve as an acting consultant on it or something. Put Katie Holmes or somebody in the lead role and it would be like a story about me that everyone would like and I'd get a reputation as one of these Hollywood behind-the-scenes powerhouses who touch something and turn it gold. Then touch someone and turn them to gold like Goldfinger and everyone would fear me, which is even better than respect.

These are just possibilities right now. I guess part of the mission of this column is to share this struggle for re-invention with the middling classes out there who don't know what it's like—the pressure to always perform, to receive love through whatever endeavor you can do, preferably the least difficult endeavor you can find. We all fight the good fight to re-invent ourselves everyday, and if you don't believe that, at least shut up and nod along 'cause it sounds like one of those great funky tidbits of sadness those one-woman show fans love.

No Credit Card for Clarissa
In all ladylike honesty, this is bullshit! I had a hit TV show, I've done some pretty notable movies like Return to Skank Mountain, and my pictures as a kid look so much like Little Debbie they officially have to pay me royalties. Why the hell can't... (9/30/02)

I've Been Scammed, Pulp Fiction-Style
Call the police, the Better Business Bureau, a lawyer—call somebody because I've just been scammed big-time, folks. Scholars of the Coleman Dynasty may know that my favorite movie is Pulp Fiction, I've mentioned as much in a recent article in... (9/16/02)

I've Just Done My First DVD Commentary
I return from a pretty fun weekend here, folks. The Divine Miss C has just finished her very first DVD commentary, and I can say without fear of contradiction (unless one of you dildos has actually done a DVD commentary for a film you've been in,... (9/2/02)

The Child Star Collector's Guide
I'm a ravenous collector myself—be it shoes, dresses, slacks, blouses, socks, or jewelry, if you can wear it and it impresses people, I can collect it. But it's not just limited to normal collectible items. I also collect strange and fun items... (8/19/02)

Wearning to Pway Guitah
So Conan O'Brien's people have yet to call me back. As you might know, or will by the end of completing this sentence, I used to have a sweet gig on that show doing a "walk on." Conan's gang thought it was hilarious when I came on and ate corn... (8/5/02)