What’s It Take To Be Famous?

Hello Beautiful,

Well, well, well. Here I am. Just tippy-typing away… wishing to connect with you.

You know, I’m supposed to be “working” today. But I just can’t focus. You’re so distracting! Beautiful you.

Can I share something with you? I’ve been working on something. Something really special. Something really important to my heart. It’s a book. And I’ve been writing, been writing this book - for a very long time. Seven years, to be exact - except that’s not exact, because I’m not sure when exactly I started writing, and it might be more like five years, or it might actually be my whole life up until this point - that might actually be how long I’ve been writing this book, this dream with a book binding. But who actually knows. I’m not good with time and I don’t like keeping track. Anyway - I’m going to famous. That’s my statement for the day. I’m just saying it out loud.

F.A.M.O.U.S. means… “known about by many people.” And you know, I just want to go ahead and get a couple things off my chest… right now… about fame. Okay?

Screw it. We don’t need it. We don’t even want it, not really. Even though it seems like we do. What we want is connection. What we want is “a relationship in which a person, a thing or an idea is linked with something else.” And that something else is us. We want closeness. Intimacy. Respect. Validation. Esteem. Fulfillment, And daily inspiration. To feel inspired and to feel alive every day that we breathe; every moment of breath. And you see we’re all already famous.

We’re all already known about by a great many people. We have our ancestors, for one. Although immediately right out of the gates I know a lot of us are going to discount that; ancestors = dead. And who cares about dead people, they can’t follow us on instagram. We have our parents. But they sorta have to love us right? Or do they? Don’t a lot of people feel unloved, by their parents? But whatever, at least they know us… I mean your mother birthed you, and your father was probably there. Or… you know what… maybe he wasn’t. Maybe you don’t know your parents. So we better discount that too, yeah. Well, okay… your… dog knows you…. do you have a dog??? Your dog thinks you’re fabulous. Your dog would follow you on instagram, if he or she had opposable thumbs. Hmmm. My argument is falling apart. Maybe you don’t have a dog, and even if you do… it doesn’t make you famous, does it? Being loved by your dog. Little tricky thing I’m doing here…

Wanna know what D.O.G. spells backwards? Wink, wink, wink…

I’m going to go ahead and write it all out! It spells… duh, duh, duh… G.O.D.. That’s right! The big “end of all ends.” Oh… but you’re an “atheist” you say? Or maybe you’re “agnostic?” Or maybe “nihilistic?” It’s all okay… all those things, all those “viewpoints” and “perspectives” count. I don’t get to discredit you. Nobody does. And come to think it… I sort of agree. Because the word “god” makes me feel a little itchy. Like a too tight turtleneck sweater, up around my neck… made of wool; yuck. That word, even the word itself… for me… feels a little off. And that’s just my personal opinion, at this point in time… because at other points in my life, that word “G.O.D.” has felt… pretty nice. Like a breath of fresh air (horribly cliché metaphor, let me try again…) Like sitting alone, in a little room… and writing a love letter to your most favorite human, sitting quietly and reminiscing about all your favorite things… this person; their smile, their eyes, the way they make you (me) feel… that’s the breath you take it, that’s what I meant to say. Like a breath of “this human.” The word G.O.D. can also make me feel so warm, and so full… like a breath of you. Like a breath of Y.O.U.. And it’s crazy! Maybe I don’t even know you! Or maybe I do! Maybe we’ve met, maybe we haven’t. Maybe we’re actual lovers, or maybe we’re actual strangers. Who cares!!! Because this feeling is undeniable, either way… “unable to be denied, disputed; discounted.” Unable to chase away. And it vacillates, it does… G.O.D… sometimes it’s Y.O.U., beautiful you… and sometimes it’s E.V.I.L. The devil himself. Herself. The devil being cruel. The Master Of Misery… I put that in all caps for effect. Do you like it?

F.A.M.E. = “the state of being known or talked about by many people, especially on account of notable achievements.” Wow. Pretty fancy. “I’m going to be famous.” I just said it. Earlier in this letter, couple of paragraphs up…

And now I’m looking at a painting, it’s in my mind. I’m imagining, fantasizing… it’s you and me, we’re kissing. And it can be every and any sort of kiss possible… playful, tender, friendly, familiar, erotic, platonic… it’s just a kiss. K.I.S.S.. “A touch with the lips as a sign of love, sexual desire, reverence or greeting.” Hey beautiful, guess what… ?

I’m already famous. Duh. I’m already “known about by many people.” Because you’re not a rock. Because you’re not lying around waiting for someone to pick you up and skip you across a pond. You are not an inanimate object. You’re not a lifeless “hard material made up of one or more minerals.” You are a…. S.O.U.L.; the “incorporeal essence of reason, character, feeling, consciousness, qualia, memory, perception and thinking.”

You are a “spiritual, immaterial, immortal…” endlessness. You’re the “end of all ends” (could also here substitute the word “G.O.D.,” but that’s a story for another time.) You’re untouchable! And categorically indefinable.

I’m already “known about by many people...” because you shape-shift, and change, and morph - more times in just one lifetime - than can possibly be counted, encapsulated or contained. Just when I think I have you figured out… there you go, you open up and begin again… you keep expanding. Gah, it’s infuriating… and so alluring…

Yup. I’m pretty famous alright. I’m “pretty important and pretty special,” pretty “known about” by some beautiful dreamers… by some beautiful “versatile thinkers with mutating ideas…” but uh-oh, here goes… it’s happening again; the definition is changing… because I said “screw it,” I said “we didn’t need it…” said “I don’t even want it…” but…

Maybe I do? Maybe I want to be famous… truly famous… if famous means… “being known by all parts of you.”

Well, guess I better get back to work. This book isn’t gonna write itself. And I’ve got some thinking to do.

Kiss… on the cheek, on the forehead, on the lips; wherever you want it… kiss; to all my adorning fans.

I’m so in love with you.

Photo by Annie Spratt