Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Brushes With Fame

On some level, we're all obsessed. It's OK, you can admit it. I can admit it.

I saw Denis Leary walking out of a Burger King near my house.
I saw Imelda Marcos on the Great Wall of China.
I saw Dudley Moore leaving a tube station in London.
I stood in front of the most glorious lamb chop sideburns in all the land at an Avett Brothers show.
My kids' dentist is a roadie for the Avett Brothers.
I see Christopher Walken everywhere. Or maybe it's just my reflection.
I asked the Governor Richard Snelling of Vermont for his autograph at a Black Watch performance when I was 8.
Ditto the Commander of the Black Watch.
I saw Justin Townes Earle walking down the street in front of Pike Place Market, drinking a cup of coffee.
I see Gary Busey everywhere. Or maybe it's just a homeless man.
My dad sat next to Cokie Roberts on a plane and told her all of his thoughts on international politics.
Kylie Minogue tried to "bum a fag" from me at a club in Hong Kong.
A girl at my school who was a year ahead of me dated the drummer from INXS and she dumped him.
I am pretty sure I saw Jim Broadbent getting off the bus the other day.

Did you hear Whitney Houston died?

I went out to lunch with the Chief Lou the other day and there was a giant TV in the middle of the restaurant tuned to CNN. I have never had cable, so correct me if I'm wrong, but that stands for "Cable News Network", no? For some reason, I thought that meant they showed news. While we were waiting for our food, we listened to the coverage of Ms. Houston's death that played on a continuous loop the whole time we were there. It was three days after her death and they had no new information to broadcast, so instead, they interviewed (I am so not making this up) the guy who worked in the gift shop of the hotel where she was staying when she died.

When I go, I want to go out in a blaze of glory. That's what I always tell the Chief Lou. I want a big New Orleans style funeral with parades and dancing and zydeco. What I don't want, however, is some pimpled kid milking his Warholian 15 minutes and saying things like: "Oh, she was so nice and she smiled a lot, but she seemed kind of out of it. You know? Just out of it. I don't have any specific examples, really, it was just a vibe. She may have been a little twitchy and she scratched her nose. You know, out of it."

I don't want the contents of my stomach at my time of death to be of public record. (I can tell you now it will  contain at least one, and probably all, of the following things: refried beans, sushi, hummus, chips and queso, and lots of coffee.) I don't want people to whom I haven't spoken for years to show up and give tearful interviews about "everything she's been through". I don't want theatrically sympathetic people to analyze every bad choice I ever made in my life and  to speculate about whether I was still haunted by something I did in 1986 or not.

I get it. She was a celebrity, so she was "ours". We have this seemingly contradictory passion for celebrities: the tongue-tied idol worship combined with wanting to think of them as one of us. We have access to so much information about personal lives and intrusive photos and gossipy speculation that it seems sometimes we forget that these aren't actually people we know. But these people we worship, they have people in their lives who actually knew them. Who will go through the very real and heartbreaking stages of grief and the adjustment to life on this planet without their loved one. I cannot imagine how that is compounded by Gift Shop Boy and CNN and their hours of idle speculation, multiplied by the tens of thousands of media outlets doing the same thing.

When I go, I want the sales of my collected works to skyrocket. I would love for people to turn up out of nowhere and publicly claim what an impact I had on them in formative years. I want there to be readings in cafes across the land as weepy hipsters mourn my passing. I want fans, and I want them to miss my work when I'm gone. I don't want any of them to act like they knew me. Those are creepy fans.

I would, however, tolerate a sea of flowers and notes and photographs and stuffed animals on the street outside where I lived. 

30 comments:

  1. Thank you. My thoughts have finally been articulated.

    Now. What about candles?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Candles, yes. But only soy or all-natural beeswax, please. ;)

      Delete
  2. Please tell me you don't really look like Christopher Walken

    ReplyDelete
  3. just want to let you know that (a) "add a comment" did not show up until after i clicked on "reply" for the bottom comment {on two separate posts} and (b) my comment about your post just disappeared when i used my WordPress i.d. {sigh} i found you through NaBloPoMo Soup and i enjoy your writing.
    dani

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hrm. Thanks for letting me know. Blogger's been having some issues this week. Also, thanks so much for stopping by!

      Delete
  4. I just noticed that my icon appears to show up in the number one spot of your "fans" on your blog, Bottom line in the right most position, oh no, I had better get my post-you statements ready!

    "Yes, I knew her before she was a Tang led Lou ... That just goes to show you what happens when you have a Tang addiction. Sad, so very sad ..."

    ReplyDelete
  5. I don't know, T. Got problems with the "We're all obsessed…" Of the first ten names you mentioned (prior to Whitney) I only recognized three. If I am obsessed, it's with tomatoes. Truly sorry for all of this.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Surely you taught those middle schoolers something about hyperbole in your teaching days. I used relatively obscure "celebrities" on purpose.

      Delete
  6. The price of poker sure went up around here with the word verifications: the dreaded multiple-backgrounds, and two to boot. Heavens to Mugatroyd.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Good grief. I wonder what Blogger is up to.

      Delete
    2. I think I fixed the whole veri-word thing now. They no longer amuse me. Just kind of irritate me now with the new system.

      Delete
  7. The idea of meeting a celebrity actually makes me feel nauseated. My sisters and I were "this close" to an Oak Ridge Boy and I felt the bile rise. I love the Oak Ridge Boys, but I know that they are real people, and what they show to the public is their celebrity. Real and celebrity are two different things! I've been teased about this but the bottom line is if I see a famous person walking towards me, I'm turning tail and running. Even if it's the Avett Brothers!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am actually the same way. When I saw Justin Townes Earle walking down the street I just froze. I didn't talk to him. I thought about wishing him luck on the show he was about to perform (for which I had tickets) but then thought better of it because (a) my small talk is appalling and (b) I thought he might like to drink his coffee in anonymity without fan girls bugging him.

      Delete
  8. The few times I have actually run into a real celebrity (Leo DiCaprio, in Egypt, was the 'biggest'), they have been jerks to the people who recognized them. I'd love to say that I am not obsessed, - well, ok, obsessed is a strong word-but I still find myself glancing at the gossip magazines on the stands at the supermarket or in waiting rooms. I couldn't justify paying money for one, but if feels kind of naughty to peek, like voyeurism...that's the only way I can think of to explain the appeal. Creepy, anyone?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Obsessed is a strong word. I, like you, have some people who actually know me and need me that occupy most of my time and energy. I do glance at the mags at the supermarket while I wait. I'm fascinated by it from a sociological standpoint. And a bit of voyeurism, if I'm honest.
      You are totally creepy. What is wrong with you?! Kidding. Obviously.

      Delete
  9. Celebrities - I have zero time or interest in any of them. I don't pay attention enough to know if I am right but I am cynical enough to wonder if any celebrity has any real idea of how the rest of the world lives. Sure, maybe someone grew up in poverty and then, at some time, gained wealth and celebrity but then I think they check out - I am disgusted with celebrity worship of any kind. I'll tell you to whom I am paying attention these days: Elizabeth Warren -- but will she be corrupted? She is brilliant and her head is in the right place. SIngers, movie people - got no use for most of them. The handful that I want to respect - say, Jack Johnson, for example - I don't trust simply because they are celebrities and I am cynical.
    Do you want to know what I really think???? :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's a lot of emotional energy for something you have "zero time or interest" for. ;) I'm not a huge celebrity stalker, but there is a certain "what if" appeal to me. As in, what if I were famous and fabulous, how would I respond?

      Delete
  10. I heard the 'news' people today asking where Whitney's daughter is. I thought, what business is it of ours? Her mom died. She's supposed to check in or tweet or something?
    Tho' I'm not even close to a hippie, I will come forward and proclaim how much you impacted my life. But, then, I'm a lot older than you, so the chances of you going first are pretty slim.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, if you should read about some sort of hostage, stand-off situation in the Pacific Northwest where a crazed woman is clutching at her jeans to keep them up and spouting a manifesto, think of me fondly. ;)

      Delete
  11. One of my friends from high school posted a fairly long Facebook status update along these same lines. Whitney (or any celebrity really) occupied a certain public space, but it's the private space where she will truly be missed. And, like you said, the yammering from the press cannnot possibly make that grieving process easier.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I just wonder how that feels to family when the national outpouring of grief is suddenly preempted by a two-headed gerbil or something. We are a fickle people.

      Delete
  12. You know what's even more creepy than that? Think of how many people were acting like they knew her when she was still alive. Can you imagine? "Hey Whitney! I own all of your albums... it's like we grew up together!" and she's like "Um, who the hell are you?"

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That is excessively creepy. I always wonder what that might feel like. I would like to think I would be gracious, but I like my space. Thank you for stopping by!

      Delete
  13. I don't know if 40 is "formative years" but you've had an impact on me. Just sayin'.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. They are all formative years, no? Thank you for sayin'.

      Delete
  14. You have had an impact on me, and if we exchange tweets, don't we actually know each other? Please tell me I'm not one of the creepy ones. Hm.

    I was gloriously out of the country on the day of Ms. Houston's passing. I heard the news, though, because there was free wi-fi where I was staying and I am a smidge "addicted" to certain forms of electronic communication. Ahem.

    Though I certainly didn't know Ms. Houston personally (surely, I'd have called her Whit if I did), I did feel a bit of personal loss at the news. I grew up listening to her music. I have at least 3 albums. ALBUMS, TL. As in, vinyl. (Google that one, Larissa ;-))

    And tonight, they're playing The Bodyguard at the Alamo Drafthouse and I just might go for nostalgia's sake.

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for reading and taking the time to say hello!