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There is fame and then there is fame. I have the former and I’m pretty happy about that. With fame, every week or so I’ll have someone come up to me and tell me how great I am, and about half those times they’ll insist on buying my coffee. With fame on the other hand, every day dozens of people clobber you in the streets, demanding to have your autograph. Fame—discount spa treatments. Fame—you forget what the night sky looks like without flashbulbs going off. See the difference?
To a large extent this is asked for. It’s rare to become famous without wanting it. People who want to play music get a standing night at their local watering hole, people who want to get famous playing music wear outrageous costumes and have their songs written by committee. I’m not judging, I have a Top 40 station programmed into my radio, I’m just saying it’s a choice. The flip side of this is people often get into “be careful what you wish for” situations.
I once dated a woman, who shall remain nameless, who this was the case for. Like I said, I’m no stranger to fame, but fame was a whole other animal. It was actually kind of fun at first. You don’t just get discount spa treatments, they pay you to show up there and be seen. You never wait in line, there are town cars everywhere and people surround you, 24 hours a day, telling you how great you are. But, in the end, it’s like Antarctica—it’s a great place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there.
I was in the fortunate position where I could leave. My ex-girlfriend was not. She was, and is, talented and passionate about her craft. Notoriety may have been a part of what drew her to it, but it was the talent and the passion that truly set her on her path. The notoriety was a side effect, and it quickly became malignant. Now, I don’t want to paint her as a suffering recluse, because she is not. She goes out, she lives her life and she smiles for the cameras. But if it was up to her, I think she’d save the lights and the cameras for when she’s on set, and just leave the action for real life. The limelight is just an occupational hazard she has to endure in order to do the thing she loves.
I could debate the rightness and the morality of this until I was blue in the face, but instead I’ll just say I am glad it is not something I have to worry about. Even if I put a picture of myself in the top corner or every page in my books I’d never reach those levels of fame. By those terms I believe I’ve chosen the perfect profession. Fame is not why I got in this business. I got in this business to tell stories, to entertain people, and most importantly, to date famous women. Not really, but it was nice. Too bad I can’t tell you who it was.
To a large extent this is asked for. It’s rare to become famous without wanting it. People who want to play music get a standing night at their local watering hole, people who want to get famous playing music wear outrageous costumes and have their songs written by committee. I’m not judging, I have a Top 40 station programmed into my radio, I’m just saying it’s a choice. The flip side of this is people often get into “be careful what you wish for” situations.
I once dated a woman, who shall remain nameless, who this was the case for. Like I said, I’m no stranger to fame, but fame was a whole other animal. It was actually kind of fun at first. You don’t just get discount spa treatments, they pay you to show up there and be seen. You never wait in line, there are town cars everywhere and people surround you, 24 hours a day, telling you how great you are. But, in the end, it’s like Antarctica—it’s a great place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there.
I was in the fortunate position where I could leave. My ex-girlfriend was not. She was, and is, talented and passionate about her craft. Notoriety may have been a part of what drew her to it, but it was the talent and the passion that truly set her on her path. The notoriety was a side effect, and it quickly became malignant. Now, I don’t want to paint her as a suffering recluse, because she is not. She goes out, she lives her life and she smiles for the cameras. But if it was up to her, I think she’d save the lights and the cameras for when she’s on set, and just leave the action for real life. The limelight is just an occupational hazard she has to endure in order to do the thing she loves.
I could debate the rightness and the morality of this until I was blue in the face, but instead I’ll just say I am glad it is not something I have to worry about. Even if I put a picture of myself in the top corner or every page in my books I’d never reach those levels of fame. By those terms I believe I’ve chosen the perfect profession. Fame is not why I got in this business. I got in this business to tell stories, to entertain people, and most importantly, to date famous women. Not really, but it was nice. Too bad I can’t tell you who it was.
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