I want to be famous, really famous.
I want to be so famous that movie stars hang out with me and talk about what a bummer their lives are. I wan to beat up photographers who catch me in hotel lobbies with Winona Ryder. I want to be implicated in vicious rumours about Drew Barrymore’s sex parties. And, finally, I wan to be pronounced DOA in a small, tired LA hospital after doing speedballs with Matt Damon.
I want it all…
I realised a long time ago that the best way to get famous in this world is to become an actor. Unfortunately, I’m a terrible actor. I’m not even a mediocre actor, which rules out a second attractive path: marrying an actor (they inbreed, so you cant marry one unless you are one).
For a while I thought about becoming a Rock star, but for that you either have to be immensely talented or have sex with a studio executive, and somehow I just couldn’t foresee either of those little scenarios in my immediate future.
So that really leaves just one option: to be young, very cool, and very, very rich. The great thing about this particular path to fame, Oprah and line jumping at nightclubs is that it’s open to everyone.
They say anyone can make it in this world, and its true: you can make it all the way to the top and a vacuous, drink-slurred lunch with Madonna. All you have to do is find something you’re good enough at to make a million dollars, and do it before your twenty-five.
When I think about how simple it all is, I cant understand why kids my age are so pessimistic...
