Courtney Love.

A few weeks before The Paris Review’s Spring Revel, the Transom asked Courtney Love if she would be in attendance to watch her grandmother, the novelist Paula Fox, accept the Hadada Award.

No, she would not.

“Paula’s absolute dislike of me is shocking and inexplicable,” Ms. Love told us.

The strained relationship is perhaps not that inexplicable. Ms. Love found out about her literary lineage late in life, when her mother, Linda Carroll, tracked down Ms. Fox, who had put her daughter up for adoption. Ms. Fox had herself been abandoned by her mother, a Hollywood gadabout who party-hopped with her husband’s cousin, Douglas Fairbanks, out-drank F. Scott Fitzgerald and once got thrown into a lake by Humphrey Bogart.

Ms. Love and Ms. Fox have met only once, during a brief sit-down at the Mercer Hotel. And Ms. Fox has no relationship with her great-granddaughter, Frances Bean Cobain.

Much of Ms. Love’s animosity toward Ms. Fox, she told us, stems from the fact that she doesn’t know the identity of her grandfather. She’s wondered, given some evidence from the past, if it could be Marlon Brando.

This speculative genealogy lingered when the day of the Spring Revel arrived last week. Paris Review editor Lorin Stein had corralled Gay Talese, Jeffrey Eugenides, Zadie Smith, Sam Lipsyte, Mona Simpson and many brilliant others into Cipriani on 42nd Street, and they all mingled beneath the marble buttresses, exuding literary genius and ordering drink after drink at the bar.

The novelist Lynne Tillman asked if we wanted to meet Ms. Fox and then steered us to a tiny table. There sat Ms. Fox, the writer whom Jonathan Franzen called superior to John Updike and Philip Roth and Saul Bellow, diminutive and raspy but still vigorously alive.

“These chandeliers,” Ms. Fox said, staring up. “They look like tangerines.”

Or blood oranges, we countered.

“Blood tangerines,” she decided.

The subject of Courtney Love came up.

“She’s awful, she’s awful. She’s terrible!” Ms. Fox told us. “I met with her for an hour, and the hour was like an hour in the devil’s pocket, for both of us. Things last such a short time in this country. People have their moments. Courtney had her moment, and was very strong, and she had enormous vitality, but that moment is gone.”

She launched into a coughing fit.

“I don’t want to be mean,” she said after composing herself. Her eyes almost watered, and maybe she was on the brink of forgiveness. “Poor everybody,” she sighed.

A few days later, the Transom rode out to New London, Conn., where the Lyman Allyn Art Museum was hosting a reception for Mentoring Courtney Love, an exhibition displaying watercolors by Ms. Love and photographs by David LaChapelle. It is her first museum show.

“Over here, over here,” Ms. Love beckoned from the middle of a mob as we entered the lobby, squeezing by a cluster of local teenage girls clutching Hole records and posters, pens at the ready. “It’s like a record signing,” she said.

Later that evening, Nancy Stula, the director of the museum, had arranged for an intimate dinner at her home in Old Lyme, and we found ourselves near the head of the table, where Ms. Love sat.

Art by Courtney Love.

“You know, Nate met my grandmother the other night,” Ms. Love told the muted Connecticut gentry seated around her. That topic hung like a ghost in the room, and after a few moments, the discussion turned to Paula Fox’s onetime companion, the unknown man who begat Courtney’s mother.

“It could be a sailor, for all I care,” said Ms. Love, though she admitted that she would at least like to know who granddad is—and pursuing that theory is a fun parlor game. “Paula was living with Ellen Adler when she became pregnant, and Marlon Brando was basically a member of the Adler household then,” she said.

We rattled off the evidence to skeptical guests: Ms. Love had become intrigued by comments Brando made to her while hanging out at Carrie Fisher’s house, and then she discovered the connection between Brando, Stella Adler—the actor’s influential mentor who housed him before he became a star—Ms. Adler’s daughter, Ellen Adler, and Ms. Fox. They were all very close—Ms. Fox would dedicate her 1990 novel, The God of Nightmares, to Ellen, and Brando spoke with Ellen daily until his death. What’s more, during the period that Ms. Fox was pregnant, Brando claims to have fathered dozens of kids he’d never know.

But there is no proof. Ms. Love explained that she had a chance to steal Brando’s toothbrush and test the DNA, but decided against it.

Then she rose, though we were still on our salad course. She had to fly to Las Vegas to film a commercial for an electronic cigarette. But before leaving, she had time to offer one more clue as to her bloodline.

“If you look at me before my first nose job,” Ms. Love said, smiling, “I kind of look like Marlon Brando.”

Relax. (NJOY)

We've seen Stephen Dorff shill for E-Blu, but not one of the other very famous celebrities who vape have been willing to put their reputations on the line to be the face of electronic cigarettes.

Until today. Courtney Love has partnered up with NJOY to create an amazing 50-second spot that should delight anyone who is sick of those uptight, non-e-cig snobs. Or just likes to hear Ms. Love curse in a way that only the Hole singer can.

"Relax, it's a fucking NJOY" is our new favorite catchphrase. We're thinking of changing our masthead to include the new slogan.

Tom Hanks, cat head. (YouTube)

– We know: it's getting dark earlier, the elections are tomorrow and we're still suffering the fallout from last week's hurricane. (Um, not to mention the nor'easter headed our way on Wednesday. FUN!) On the other hand, here are some videos of Tom Hanks being really confused on a German sketch show called Wetten Daas!

http://youtu.be/PoXR2ibRx40
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJvFdi-scLg
– The owner of New York's Beach Bum Tanning Salon, where Amanda Bynes may or may not have stripped down in the lobby and run around like a crazy person: "Employee testimony and security footage have confirmed that Ms. Bynes was not acting inappropriately. She is a long-time client and we stand by her account." So wrote CEO James Oliver claimed in an official press release. But how much do we trust the word of a Beach Bum?

– Brad Pitt has done enough with this humanitarian stuff. From now on, it's all perfume ads and designing 24-karat-gold tables.

– Courtney Love, perpetual buzzkill, won't let a Nirvana musical happen. Hey, for once we agree with her.

Courtney Love and Frances Bean in better times (Getty Images)

The tempestuous relationship between Frances Bean Cobain and her mother Courtney Love have been making headlines for as long as the now-19-year-old has been able to talk. (Her first word? 'Adoption.') Though the two have been able to occasionally set aside their differences and smile for the press, much more often we hear about the skirmishes: the hotel fights, the custody battles, and most recently, a Twitter skirmish in which Ms. Cobain asked the creators of micro-blogging platform to ban her mother once and for all.

But now the only daughter of Kurt Cobain finally has gained what might be the ultimate leverage on mommy dearest: the rights to her father's likeness.

This comes from an exclusive from TheFix.com, who obtained sealed documents that allegedly show that after losing custody of Frances Bean Cobain in 2010, Ms. Love sold away the rights to Kurt Cobain's likeness for a quick loan...to her estranged daughter:

The documents show that Love agreed to step down as Acting Manager of End of Music LLC—the business entity responsible for generating cash from Cobain’s publicity rights—once she’d received a $2.75 million loan from Frances’ trust fund in 2010. The massive loan was transferred from Frances’ fund to EOM in Los Angeles, and then into an account held by Courtney’s then-lawyers, Pryor Cashman, in New York. Until Courtney pays it back, she won’t receive a dime from Kurt’s name, likeness or appearance from the deals formed by Frances and her advisers since December 2010.

The interesting part of this whole (or Hole?) saga is as usual, how Courtney Love has worked against her own best interest. Didn't she learn how much Kurt Cobain's public image was worth after she sold it on the sly to Activision for a Rock Band avatar just a year before taking the loan from Frances Bean? And more importantly....how is she going to sustain her Adderall and Klonopin diet without those residuals?

In statement emailed by her representatives, Ms. Cobain—an artist who shows under the name Fiddle Tim—has denied her mother's accusation, explaining:

While I'm generally silent on the affairs of my biological mother, her recent tirade has taken a gross turn. I have never been approached by Dave Grohl in more than a platonic way. I'm in a monogamous relationship and very happy.

Twitter should ban my mother.

For the record, that is her paragraph break. We should note that this is not a formal request for Twitter to ban Ms. Love, but a casual one, and is likely not the first time this sentiment has been expressed by the daughter of a mother on Twitter. Then again, your mother is not Courtney Love, and she's also not accusing Dave Grohl of hitting on you.

fkamer@observer.com | @weareyourfek

Courtney Love

Somewhere, a West Village landlord is popping champagne. Courtney Love, the terror of West 10th street, has packed up and moved out, the Daily News reports. 

Although Ms. Love won a legal battle against the owners of the townhouse at 250 West 10th Street, her lease is up and, shockingly, she has not renewed. And, in a wholly un-Courtney fashion, it seems the move was quick, quiet and relatively painless.

Love’s belongings were packed up in big boxes in her kitchen ready to be moved out. Staff is already gone, having taken off last night in a town car, and the house, which was lit up for almost the entire duration of Love’s stay, has gone dark.

Holey heck! (GVSHP)

This marks the end of Ms. Love's rather fraught stint at the address. This past fall, Ms. Love's landlord filed suit, claiming that the singer socialite had broken the lease agreement by redecorating without the owner's consent, owed tens of thousands of dollars and had set the curtains on fire late one evening. A judge ruled that she did not, in fact, owe the back-rent and that whole fire incident wasn't addressed in court.

So now she's out, and probably looking for a new place. A more humble abode, perhaps? She was, after all, paying a full $27,000 per month for the West 10th Street townhouse. Those Nevermind royalties don't pay like they used to.

eknutsen@observer.com

These are a few of Courtney's favorite things...

Yesterday, documents were released showing that in 2009, Francis Bean Cobain filed a restraining order against her mom, Courtney Love. This isn't that unusual: restraining orders against Hollywood parents came as regularly as Xanax/Adderall/Whip-It prescriptions out in L.A.

But despite having a history of screaming matches in public places, Ms. Cobain (now 19) took out the restraining order against her mother not only for herself but for her dog as well, Uncle Fester.

See, Ms. Love has a history of getting rid of the messy pets in the house:

The cat died after getting entangled in Love’s messy piles of ‘Etsy fabrics, boxes of paperwork, trash and other possessions,” according to the court papers, while the dog swallowed several of Love’s stash of prescription pills.

We knew that prescription pills could kill, but Etsy fabric? We guess Ms. Love has a bigger problem than we though.

Courtney Love vindicated! (Getty Images)

Despite a claim by Ms. Love's current landlord at her 250 West 10th Street townhouse that the rocker had not only fallen behind on her $27k-a-month rent, but set it on fire as well, the case has been thrown out of court. Mrs. Love will not be evicted after all. Hooray!

The owner of the building, Donna Lyon, was accused of trying to kick out Ms. Love in order to jack up prices on the real estate. Ms. Love currently pays $27,000 a month in rent, but was taken to court for owing over $50,000 in back rent, as well as $100,000 to restore the 1826 townhouse to pristine condition.

According to the New York Post:

Love’s lawyer, Eric Sherman, successfully argued that the suit was wrongly filed because Love was current on her rent. He told us, "We’ve always said that the claims were baseless because the landlord was unfairly seeking future rent. I’m really pleased for Courtney. She deserves this win.

"The issue of the renovations was not the subject of this lawsuit," Sherman said. "This was only about payment of rent, and we were able to establish that she was up to date."

Sources say that Ms. Love plans to move out of the building once her lease expires on Feb. 14th anyway...not the nicest way to spend Valentine's Day, but the Hole singer knows when she's not wanted.

Courtney Love,

Poor Courtney Love. After spending forever looking for a new place in the city, she finally found her dream home at 250 West 10th Street—with a little help from her friends at Curbed. But now Ms. Love's landlords are threatening to evict her, after she has turned the townhouse into a regular hellhole.

According to attorneys for the landlord, Ms. Love extensively redecorated the place without the owner's consent, something expressly forbidden in the lease agreement. We're thinking red-lipstick stains on the white walls. According to a suit, which will be heard next week, Ms Love "has wallpapered and repainted significant portions of the interior."

Not to mention that little fire in the upstairs bedroom. Fire crews were called in June when the bed linens and curtains went up in flames. Courtney, how many times have we told you, no more smoking in bed!

The landlord claims it will cost $100,000 to restore the 1827 townhouse to its former glory, which was created by noted architect Steven Gambrel.

Then there's also the teensy little problem of $54,000 in back rent. That may sound like a lot, but the case also reveals that Ms. Love is paying $324,000 a year in rent, or $27,000 a month. Perhaps those Nirvana royalties aren't paying like they used to? The landlord has begun a non-payment proceeding at the New York City Civil Court seeing Ms. Love's eviction.

Well on the upside, she'll fit right in on the street with her signature crazy-eyes, matted-hair and unintelligible babbling.

eknutsen@observer.com

Who is this lady??

It's quite impressive, really. In a post titled "Too Tired to Name-Drop,"  XOJane editor in chief Jane Pratt liveblogged on her iPhone yesterday during a conversation she was having in a tea shop.

Which seems kind of...rude? Liveblogging during a conversation? Especially since Ms. Pratt could have used the phone to look up the name of the very famous actress she was talking to. Instead, she just gave readers clues and asked them to solve the mystery for her.

What is the world coming to? That nice cool woman from the Sopranos and Nurse Betty -- the fantastic actress and fellow single mom I know from years ago -- is talking to me in the tea place and I can't use her name in conversation, even though she is using mine, because I can't remember it. Something with an E? Don't you dislike when that happens? I wind up saying "honey" way too much in these instances. As in, "Bye Jane!" "Bye honey!!" Ugh.

Ms. Pratt knew the person she was talking to was a famous actress who was on the Sopranos and Nurse Jackie. Ms. Pratt knew the woman's name began with the letter "E." She also knew that the woman was a single mother and a friend of hers from a while back. But she just couldn't think of the lady's name, because the former Sassy editor was too tired (and too busy using her phone to blog), because she doesn't drink caffeine except for kombucha and she spent all last night at Courtney Love's house (whose name she can definitely remember). Oh well.

Anyway, what do you do when you can't remember someone's name? (And who is this cool lady I'm talking to?) Good morning, y'all!

This is like a kid's TV show, where Dora the Explorer waits a beat so we can yell out the answer. It's EDIE FALCO! Yay!

We admit, we are a little obsessed by Jane Pratt's creative use of phone-blogging. It's so informal! Now, someone show her how to use Google on this damn thing.