Celebrity
I don't usually get light headed, but when I do I need people to prick my head with a really sharp needle so that I will come crashing back to planet Earth. I inflate quite well given circumstances allow it.
I mean its like, I took down my blog for a while to do some adjustments and of course, I don't see the need to inform anybody about my disappearance, or why I'm taking the blog down. But no, within 24 hours of its removal, I received three emails, two messages on my web profile, four SMS, and two MSN messages (one offline message sent at 3.12am) asking me where my blog had went and whether or not I was okay.
Like, these people, avid followers of mine I presume, for some reason, had discovered (within 24 hours) that my blog was missing and sought to find out the reason to this. I must say, I felt flattered, surprised almost, that people would take the time to send me emails/messages to find out if whether or not I’ve fallen off an elephant and died or I just woke up one day and decided that it was time to DELETE the blog.
Ok so I'm getting lame. Who cares. I'm flattered, I really am. Thank you.
But at the same time I realise, I don't want to be a celebrity. I don't want mothers to tell their kids not to read my blog, or teenagers discussing my discourse about anal sex and pornography addiction. I don’t want gay men all over the world reading this blog and then abusing me for the things I say or don’t say. I don't want housewives and salesmen gossiping about what I have to say or the pictures I take on my blog. I don't want to hear about my blog on the radio, or in the newspaper, or the telly. I don't want people promoting my blog for any reason (even if it means more visitors) because I don’t like all the extra attention that advertising brings. I don't want little gay boys to become like me when they grow up just because they were fervent supporters of my literature and looked up to me as their ROLE MODEL.
Ouch. Those two words. Role Model. Very painful.
I don't want to become popular, because this blog really is about me and my sordid life, and making that something popular sometimes can be very disturbing. Look at Anwar Ibrahim and where it got him. Lindsay Lohan. Paris Hilton. Britney Spears. I don't want to end up like them!
Kennysia also experienced this form of celebrity-bashing, and you can read about it here. Just take a look at the number of comments. Past 1000! Shit.
The day my posts become as influential as Kennysia's is the day I will TRULY close this blog, because I know I was not born for stardom and will never be fit to deal with all the bullshit that comes along with being popular. I don't want to be popular, period.
Even if it means I don't get to name a perfume label after me.
I mean its like, I took down my blog for a while to do some adjustments and of course, I don't see the need to inform anybody about my disappearance, or why I'm taking the blog down. But no, within 24 hours of its removal, I received three emails, two messages on my web profile, four SMS, and two MSN messages (one offline message sent at 3.12am) asking me where my blog had went and whether or not I was okay.
Like, these people, avid followers of mine I presume, for some reason, had discovered (within 24 hours) that my blog was missing and sought to find out the reason to this. I must say, I felt flattered, surprised almost, that people would take the time to send me emails/messages to find out if whether or not I’ve fallen off an elephant and died or I just woke up one day and decided that it was time to DELETE the blog.
Ok so I'm getting lame. Who cares. I'm flattered, I really am. Thank you.
But at the same time I realise, I don't want to be a celebrity. I don't want mothers to tell their kids not to read my blog, or teenagers discussing my discourse about anal sex and pornography addiction. I don’t want gay men all over the world reading this blog and then abusing me for the things I say or don’t say. I don't want housewives and salesmen gossiping about what I have to say or the pictures I take on my blog. I don't want to hear about my blog on the radio, or in the newspaper, or the telly. I don't want people promoting my blog for any reason (even if it means more visitors) because I don’t like all the extra attention that advertising brings. I don't want little gay boys to become like me when they grow up just because they were fervent supporters of my literature and looked up to me as their ROLE MODEL.
Ouch. Those two words. Role Model. Very painful.
I don't want to become popular, because this blog really is about me and my sordid life, and making that something popular sometimes can be very disturbing. Look at Anwar Ibrahim and where it got him. Lindsay Lohan. Paris Hilton. Britney Spears. I don't want to end up like them!
Kennysia also experienced this form of celebrity-bashing, and you can read about it here. Just take a look at the number of comments. Past 1000! Shit.
The day my posts become as influential as Kennysia's is the day I will TRULY close this blog, because I know I was not born for stardom and will never be fit to deal with all the bullshit that comes along with being popular. I don't want to be popular, period.
Even if it means I don't get to name a perfume label after me.
Fell from the sky at 4:37 AM
5 Comments:
Gay role model? Moll model!
Okay so following our chat last night I made a serendipitous discovery in the blogosphere: an article about how Australians are primed to "experience other cultures" and the harsh gap between that happy (stupid) expectation and the dense, confusing, distressing messy details of the reality:
http://firefly.yourjapan.jp/post/2/358
;o)
Guess it's not that easy being a role model. Poor Kenny.
Wasn't there another post here for a while? Nothing too surprising in it, but I guess when the choice comes between choosing fame and infamy...
well no one choose to be famous but famous comes to them when the time is right! uHMNN hopefully fame wouldn't come to you so that I still able to read your blog eh ahah!
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