The Fame Game

It seems to me the whole point of being famous would be the access to other famous people. The whole scene here seems to function as a giant Match.com for celebs. An actress has a crush on an actor? She just tells her manager to set up a meeting.

Then of course there’s the working in close proximity relationships that come out of productions. The actors get so used to pretending they are in love who can say where to draw the line in real life? LA largely is about pretending after all.

I’m not going to lie. I want to make it as a writer because that’s my passion but the name recognition that comes to the top tier writers is a tantalizing carrot. Part of the reason I’m bummed my parents didn’t push my teen modeling career is that if they had I’d most likely be dating a rock star now. Of course I’d probably have a hefty coke habit and narcissistic emotional issues but that’s beside the point. How else am I going to get a rock star boyfriend?

I got back to my indie rocker roots last night with a show at the new Safari Sam’s. It featured fantastic newcomers Monsters Are Waiting with a tight, upbeat sound and a magnetic front-woman who reminded me of a cross between Chrissie Hynde and the Cranes’ vocalist. Then the main attraction: StellaStarr. They are billed as New York Pop/Punk and their sound reminds me of old Cure, old Joy Division, and new Killers. The minute singer Shawn Christensen opened his mouth, I thought “Oh rock star boyfriend!” If only. Never mind that I’m probably ten years older than he is.

Dang it, why am I not in these higher circles of fame yet? I clearly just have to go out and get famous myself. Despite personal evidence that dating famous people is a disastrous proposition, that became my plan A for the evening. Find some way to launch myself into that starry world of pretend. ASAP.

Then I thought, that would probably work for a “performer” like K-Fed, but these guys are too cool. If Lindsay Lohan sent a note to them through her manager they’d probably blow it off. Or maybe meet her for the pure anecdotal potential. But I doubt young Shawn would be wowed. I could be wrong. But watching this powerful quartet on a small stage not very separate from the audience I knew they aren’t in it for the fame but because they have to make music. And that’s what we’re here to hear.

Then I remembered a girl with a different plan. A girl who would shoulder her way up to the stage and tell a band “Hey, I’m an LA DJ. I dig your stuff. Can we chat?” Haven’t seen her around for going on fifteen years. But I have the backstage interview cassettes to prove she existed.

As I slunk out the main entrance at the end of the set it hit me that maybe fame and pretending isn’t the best plan. How about Plan B? The possibility of finding someone because of mutual admiration for each other’s passion; not fame. I think the recapturing of youthful bravado it will require will be good for me. I gotta see if I can find my old tape recorder.