Celebrity

 

It is a pleasure to amble through a shopping centre, knowing that at no time will a celebrity show up to ruin the ambience. Sometimes shoppers have a sad or distracted appearance. This is due to the music in their earplugs which is being performed, alas, by a celebrity, or even worse by two celebrities in a duet. In the city I sometimes see a large circle of admirers surrounding a busker. This is a pleasant sight so I join them, happy in the knowledge I don’t need to make a quick exit, having mistakenly gatecrashed a celebrity autograph event or celebrity selfie opportunity. Busking, on a Chinese erhu violin or treated Fender Stratocaster, cheers up my already cheerful day. Celebrities spend much of their time walking along red carpet in the latest gold-spangled overalls. Overalls as you know are the fashion this year but only celebrities wear gold-spangled overalls. They wear resilient sunglasses, which are not like other people’s sunglasses, only don’t ask me why. They do strange things like filling their lips with air so they look puffy and choosing a facelift that leaves me thinking they are auditioning for parts in a horror movie. Celebrities, a very great many of them, are usually seen on film sets, which means happily they are not at the swimming pool, the library, the native gardens, or other favourite places. The exponential increase in movies seems to be related to the exponential increase in celebrities. I have it on good authority that a celebrity is someone more successful than me, that I must look up to as a god. Obviously our world has become so full of little idols that we are spoilt for choice. If that’s a choice I wish to make. I notice that celebrities are always on something called an A-List. It is not of the slightest interest which list they are on, as far as I’m concerned, given their main purpose in life seems to be having their name on some list. Wandering around town, travelling on a tram, it is pleasant to see anonymous people of every persuasion going about their lives with the slightly anxious, slightly wondering look that people have in large urban spaces. Anonymity is, I sometimes find, my A-List. This is quite an extensive list yet, paradoxically, a blank list for the simple reason that everyone is anonymously nameless. This pleasant scene is not, however, to be taken for granted. At any moment a perfectly presentable person will appear in the urban area wearing a celebrity tee-shirt, or else is yabbering on about some celebrity being the most supreme being hovering above a lotus flower. Still, anonymity, that is where everything returns, unbeknownst it seems to celebrity. It is a relief to see celebrity in relief, the song of the celebrity about the burden of celebrity, their trademark payoff, their byting opinion, their ego badinage, their instagram statistics. Seeing one coming, I cross the street, even though they seem to be doing their darndest to appear anonymous, behind their resilient shades.