Fame

As of this moment, 10.08 am July 28th 2007, I really can't claim that I'm famous. My cat, Eric, is actually more famous than myself, having been seen nearly half a million times worldwide, playing the piano. And yet he's blissfully unaware of it.

Yet I, a dull and muddy-mettled rascal, have spent much of my life wanting the attention of others, thinking that fame would somehow solve all my problems, and rid my of all my self doubts. Fame would be the Elysium, my final home. Reaching fame, I would need to make no more effort. Like in the fairy stories my mother would read me as a child, fame would be the happy ever after, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

It's funny how people react to fame and celebrity. I used to date a woman many years ago, when fame seemed much easier and nearer to achieve, and I was young and so was she. I was the quintessential angry, passionate young actor and she was the young girl in search of someone successful to be with and be associated with. It's funny how some people want to be associated with fame, and famous people, like the kudos was something that would rub off, and they'd get a little of the stardust on them now and then.

When my career didn't seem to be going as well as she'd hoped, we broke up. A few years later we met again, just as I was embarking on the next love of my life, and one of the first things she said was that she knew Dennis Waterman and Rula Lenska.

Nothing about her, or her life, particularly. Nothing about her having done this, or that, or the other. But that she knew some famous people. Well, they were famous at the time. A glamorous item, the two of them. Although it all ended, of course.

I was surprised at her reaction. That she'd given her power away so readily to the illusion of fame, and people who were in the public eye. I mean, after all who are these people, that we consider "celebrities"? What is celebrity, exactly? It must be the most awful thing in the world to be one, and having to put on some constant show for every single person out there in reality land.

Having said that, I'd really like to know what it's like to be famous, just to get an idea of how it changes your perspective on life and society.

I've been doing one of the "lowest of the low" jobs of late. Telemarketing. Only for the local ballet, so it's not like I'm selling long distance or something - how those people do that is beyond me - but there's still enough "anti-kudos" associated with it to notice how certain kinds of people treat you. I can't help thinking it's always the social climbers that are the worst. These are the ones who you know that at the same time they're dismissing you and having no time whatsoever for you, they're also arselicking of others. They'll be the kinds of people who'll treat waiters like shit, but suck up to the rich and famous. They're the ones who'll desperately need to be associating with the famous, and boast about their famous friends.

I can't help wondering what the famous friends think of them, though. Do they see how they treat waiters and such?

I met Prince Charles once. Well, I was "presented" to him, along with Diana. Being in the mood I was in at the time (extreme angry, pissy at The Establishment, etc) I was kinda nonchalent towards the pair of them. Oddly, they seemed rather impressed. I can't help thinking it's always the lesser people who demand special treatment, and to be treated like VIPs.

In society it seems that the aristocracy, seeing as they're already there, understand the illusion of fame. I've heard it said before that they're more interested in people because ordinary people aren't sucking up to them. When you're rich and famous it's true that you really don't know who to trust. Odd, but that's how it goes. I wonder how many rich people have missed out on fabulous relationships with ordinary people, just because they've assumed they'd be more into them for what they are than who they are?

Anyway...I'm off to do some filming now. Gonna be famous, at least for a bit.