...about myself! I may be getting older and more forgetful and spiritually confused, but at least I can dress myself modestly for my national television interview (when that day comes). I promise I'll blog about opera or world events next time. For now, let's revel in the weirdness that is falling-apart-at-the-seams, celebrity style.
I know I've been domestically isolated lately because my thoughts have this weird, surreal, almost "Plan 9 From Outer Space" quality to them. Like a pop culture monk I am. Yesterday I was doing some laundry (so much laundry lately--where does it all come from?) and I was digging lint out of the trap in the dryer and thinking: do celebrities dig their own lint out? If so, do they think in terms of: This banal chore is now more significant because I'm doing it? Or do they go the other route and think: This is what keeps me humble.
And why was I thinking this at all? It's like my dream life and my real life are converging at times.
And then tonight I was making soup and this overly dramatic voice screamed in my head: Will this miso ever mix properly or do I have to get the whisk!?
It's like I know how my life has become so every-day, so my mind is going on these hysterical tangents that are all drama-queenish and fake but entertaining and disturbing at the same time. God--maybe I understand Britney a little more. Maybe we can all find a little tolerance in our heart. Forgive Denise Richards and Richie Sambora--it was love. Let little Lindsay Lohan find her inner calling in the bars and speakeasies of both coasts. And Paris Hilton will one day pull it out and become a human being at some point in time--if we just wait patiently and with compassion. Oh fuck it, I'm going to bed.