Truths of Old

You know, the thing that celebrities have in common with gods is that without the hordes of hormonal groupies wet between the thighs / worshippers foaming at the mouth, they're reduced to pale, powerless shades of who they once were, or who they could have been.

Terry Pratchett writes tongue-in-cheek about forgotten, emasculated Gods in his novel Small Gods, and Neil Gaiman gave the issue some thought too in "American Gods".

And it strikes me that that's exactly what most celebrities are, small gods. Here today, gone tomorrow (eg Geri Halliwell, whatever happened to her) or here today, gone tomorrow, back the day after (eg Anna Nicole Smith) Bigger and Bouncier Better, and then after that... gone again.

"Celebrities" need to be loved. Much more so than us ordinary folks. That's probably why they decide to chase down dreams and become celebrities in the first place. Somewhere inside them, they have a burning desire to be recognised, to be wanted. To be loved, in a way that the people around them or their partners cannot provide.

It must be a very sad and lonely life, being loved barely-enough one day, and not the next - or never enough in the first place. The not-quite celebrity who never-quite makes it big... is the unwanted child. The beautiful baby that... never quite grows up.

And once you're on your perch, how easy it must be to fall off into dreaded, mundane obscurity - the kind of stuff other people - ordinary (shudder) mortals are made of.

Sometimes the simple ravages of time do the dirty, as voluptious curves gradually fill out and high cheek bones begin to round up, and the World loses Interest. And the job offers slow down. Or the two-bit roles become the only options.

It's funny moving between two worlds, two cultures. Two sets of very different Gods. Looking at our mini-gods in Singapore and realising their mini-flocks of followers are... just enough for them, but in the big bad arena of the world... just insignificant dewdrops in a vast ocean of worship and veneration, and Celebrity.

This post has nothing to do with my spotting Mark Richmond (?and Beatrice Chia? Dunno. Some rather tall, rather ordinary-looking -to me anyhow- girl sans-makeup) at fencing, tonight. Honest.

It's nice to be a mere mortal.

And I really mean that. =)

*****
Every

One of the things that bugged me in one of the relationships that didn't work out was how the then-squeeze didn't understand :

That every hello should be a surprise.

And every farewell may be our last.

Every second sipped together is a lingering ambrosia in the brewing

Every petulent tantrum unleashed an indelible scar in our pasts.

Every moment, every immortal permanence taken for granted

is a step towards our eventual demise.

- re-minisce.


I too could not remember, towards the end. Perhaps that is the simple truth - pick your battles, and your allies wisely. Only the right ones will endure.

*****
Checkmate

I checked. Yesterday.

I shouldn't have, but I was weak, and so I checked.

And it was renewed.

And so I knew. I am here.

And You are there. For Real.

How strange this life is. How very, very strange.

East is East, and West is West, and East is West, and West is East, and never the twain shall meet again.