I'm constantly fascinated with the cult of personality*, living inside the entertainment bubble and why people are famous in the first place. (*For some reason, Jerry Hall always comes to mind when I think of the term. Yes, I'm showing my age.)
What is fame, anyway? On some level, I think it means people get to (feel they) know you before they meet you. Problematic? Possibly. Based on those very loose parameters, for better or worse, thanks to blogs like this and other social media, increasingly more of us are achieving some level of "fame" with incredible ease. Major recording companies use amateur video blogs as a legitimate means to scour talent. Major news agencies now look to twitter as a source of really knowing what's happening on the front lines. Yes. Times they are a-changin'.
Speaking of fame, a few weeks back while high (uh yah i know: not a surprise), I fantasized about David Arquette. Why? Because I was high. That's my answer for almost everything, B.T. dubs. Anyway, I always thought David was cute. But I really love him now that he's a little older, grayer and fuller. He looks like a crazy ass stoner. So of course I've got wood for the dude. The fantasy the other night started well enough, but it quickly devolved into me worrying about having our relationship inevitably discovered and dragged into the tabloids. No. Bueno. (Drug-induced paranoia. Again: uh yah.) But you know how it always goes when humans try to mate with gods. It never bodes well for the mortal. We've seen this story all the way down from Zeus and Danae to Ralph Fiennes and that Qantas stewardess. Both women were, shall we say, fired like Brunnhilde. Mmmmmm HMMMP! The media always finds out about celebrity scandals. I saw it all flash before my eyes: I'd be tracked down and confronted by a porch and sidewalk full of reporters and cameras when I opened my door. I know exactly how the headline would read and, trust me. It wouldn't be flattering.
If people feel they pre know you, they also feel welcome to pre judge. It's been brought to my attention how public and open I appear to be living with this blog. I'm an attention junky. I admit that's true at times. I'm an entertainer. Shocked? It's a fine line, but there IS one. I'm careful about outing people here (whether they're gay or not). Also, what I write here is such a small part of my life, but I get to decide what info is released. If I were under the microscopic scrutiny or reflected in the mirror of a Hollywood scandal, there's no way I'd be able to control professional journalists finding out EVERYTHING about me. There's no wonder people want to be anonymous. Still we go ever towards the light (Carol Ann) of stardom. What is it with us? We're a world of exhibitionists and voyeurs every one of us. And I couldn't be more pleased :-)
Black Spark seems to have discovered a quite tantalizing middle ground. It's almost like watching a music video, which is an art form that still wields a lot of power. When I see celebrities' videos, movies, international concerts and interviews, beauty and clothing campaigns, I just have to take a moment and think "what that must cost to be EVERYWHERE." Glad that's not me. Then I get random texts from friends and others saying "Hey. Hope you're well. Just saw your (dick, face, ass, video, whatever) on (some random ass blog, tumblr, etc). Did you know about this?" Actually, not always. I was quite surprised to be told that the infamous multiple loads video is still floating around the blogosphere (not mine). I completely wasted the energy deleting the video from Xtube :-) I don't even have a copy of that one anymore. Oh well. Hopefully, I'll look back on all this in 60 years (days?) and say, "I had it going on then."
Not So Anonymous