Friday, August 28, 2009

B is for Fame

“doin’ it for the fame….” – lady gaga (love, love, LOVE that song)

When I grow up, I want to be a Patron. I want to be the guy who makes dreams happen. An’ ting. Missionaries need money; artists need funding; people need a universal blood donor…. I need to be a Patron.

Of course, as I think on this, I ask myself (again) what are my motives? Is it to really help people or am I looking for the fame, (fame) doing it for the fame (fame).

Last yr I decided that I TOO wanted my medal. I wanted cameras to see me kissing babies and offering support to the masses. I want… my medal. you see, I believe in the Biblical concept of never letting your left hand know what your right hand is doing (or is it the other around? No I’m right) which basically means – try yuh bess and doh let know body know dat yuh do somet’ing fuh somebody. So, for many, many years, whenever I did anything for anyone (and I’ve done some things. things that have at times left me broke for example), I did it discreetly. And I did it just to help people because people… need… help. And surprisingly, people don’t seem to see the NEED to help people. all we care about is runway models, Cadillacs and liquor bottles… The only one who really knew about my exploits was my mother. And God – whom I would gripe to when I didn’t get what I wanted (dammit I just spent my last dollar on people, I got so and so a job and you can’t even allow so and so to happen for me?! Why God? – silly boy). I just do… things (said The Joker). I like doing things. in the shadows. Write a cheque. Give a donation. Call up somebody and say “u have an interview” and then just fade into the woodwork. But then I decided, that in the same way that a good couple of people I (used to) know feel the need to have a trumpet section when they “do good”, so the heck will I. Isn’t it a shame, shame, baby? A shame, shame… but that… that doesn’t “feel” like a me thing to do.

What are my motives? And who the heck cares? Still I wrestle sometimes. I want that when I go, like Ted Kennedy (or Tedward as I like to say), people walk around my coffin and say “wow – he was great. Who will fight for us now?” but at the same time, I’d feel… embarrassed. Who cares? People need help. I could (should) do that.

Confession: I have a dream of having a bank account specially set up for “people projects”.

I want my fame. I want my fortune. I wanna live the live of the rich and famous. And God willing, if I settle down to the thing I’m doing… I will. But I still want to lurk in the shadows and help out situations. You got missionaries? I got a bank account. Oh you need blood? I’m a universal donor. You need an art space? I got an extra house – take it. But I don’t. But I will.

I want to be a Patron. Cause people… need… help.

(random lady gaga lyrics in bold and such)

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