CELEBRITY SKIN

When we have an opportunity to meet celebrities or visionaries in the arts, it always seems very surreal. We are in limbo, somewhere in between defining our own character as we project on a total stranger this spanner in the works.

Is it because of the REALITY TV mentality that exists now, coupled with the place somebody on a pedestal just until we can rip them down aesthetic.

I was fortunate in this respect as a teenager because of my mother working with a celebrity. I was flung into a few environments where meeting these people was automatic. On many occasions I made a complete ass out of myself. What did I just say?

For example, I felt quite comfortable meeting a young, catlike and friendly Suzanne Sommers; not quite as comfortable talking with the legendary cerebral songwriter Kris Kristofferson. Iwas completely Tongue tied when meeting Gordie Howe and I was having a perpetual out of body experience when faced with Charleze Theron.

Strange days.

I also always seem to run into random celebrities on the streets of Toronto. Perhaps I am that stalker.

Just the other day I was walking with a friend and I pointed out Meg Ryan and John Mellencamp hailing a cab outside a hotel. My friend didn't believe me and she said that I was probably delusional.

(I love my aunts story about coming face to face with her idol Johnny Carson in the 80's. They were walking towards each other down the NBC hallway and just as they came into the same air space.......she put her head down and pretended not to notice him. She then ran back to see where he had gone, but the moment had passed)

Like most people growing up in the late 70's. I was sure that after being flown down to Florida for a commercial, celebrity lifestyle was coming my way.

Self paid trips to the Bahamas unescorted at 16, just didn't happen by accident. My thinking seemed to be that things came easily with simple attention. Charm was more important than hard work in achieving goals.

Perhaps somebody should have punched me out in an alley at that very moment and told me that this kind of thinking would lead me straight to a new kind of "hell". ( complete with white walls)

I would soon be in a therapists office, identifying with a book called "drama of the gifted child". Oh, and I was being filmed. The underlying message being.....don't let your kids do this, or else they may turn out like this poor guy.

Funny in retrospect. The truth should set me free.

Recently I had the luck of sharing some time with an author that I admired. Through a series of seemingly random events on a weekday, I was sitting waiting for a table at a restaurant when this gentleman approached. He seemed to be waiting for somebody.

I will refrain from using his name, just in case he remembers mine.

We obviously were going to have a couple of minutes together so I broke the ice with some random joke. Seemed to work. The conversation got on to our Hockey team and the Canadian mentality and somehow onto Shannon Tweed and Elton John adopting a baby with a Canadian guy. It was now obvious that I was completely aware of his celebrity.

I felt that I wanted to ask him something a little deeper about writing, before my time was up, so I gave it a shot.

RL " If you don't mind, can i ask you a question about your books?"

CP "Sure"

Speak Manchild.

RL "They say that there is no story without conflict. Conflict defines a character. Yet, your characters seem to just exist. They are incredible, I love them , yet, but I don't see alot of conflict going on, maybe I have the definition wrong"

What in hell did I just say?

CP "Are you a writer?"

RL " No just a random fan"

CP " In drama, action represents both form and content. The action and conflict aren't just the way you tell a story, but they convey the meaning of it too.

Most of my action is internal. That's the cascading landscape I am looking at. (beat) On most days"

RL (Laughing) "Well that went sailing over my head, but I appreciate it, I needed that"

CP (smiling) "Anytime, pleasure talking to you Rick"

And off he went to greet his girlfriend, or wife , or mistress or whatever she was.

Again I was strapped into my surreal chair. However, 2hours later....... It was back to my reality, home to buy some lettuce and some pizza pops at the local Loblaws.

Strange days.

Maybe I will do some writing. The problem. ..... I need to create something that is cascading.

Something needs to fall I think.

Rl.