Build Your Own Celebrity

First off, I have to draw your attention to this Yahoo! News item: "Giant invasive oysters found in S.F. Bay." I didn't put a link because I didn't actually read the article. There was no way it could live up to that title.

But the main reason for this post is that my friend Beth wrote a great post on the nature of celebrity. (Beth was once a celebrity herself, to me, anyway, until she got promoted to "super-cool-and-talented friend," or "friend" for short.) As I thought about what celebrity means to me, the first two things that came to mind that set celebrities in general apart from the rest of us are: image saturation, or seeing pictures of the celebrity anywhere and everywhere, doing anything and everything; and fan websites.

Now, I can't promise to follow any one of you around taking random pictures of you. You should be grateful for this, because I have not mastered the art of taking candid shots in which the subject's eyes are 1) open and 2) not red.

I have not made a website on my own since Theatre History class, which was something like aeons ago in computer years. So that's not really going to work, either.

Fan blog posts, however, are an option. For the subject of my first fan blog post, I will use Beth Dekker, because she inspired the whole thing.

Beth Dekker was born Name-Which-Must-Not-Be-Used-Never-Mind, in a small town west of Calcutta. She is trained in absurdist theatre and the finer points of making gallons of salsa at one time. Her hair does this fun wavy thing, and she also has beautiful eyes. My first real recollection of interacting with Beth in a meaningful way was in a Playwriting class. Later on, I would take part in a Bible study to which Beth invited me. I remember meeting at her apartment, and I would marvel at the number of herbs and tomato plants growing on her balcony. (Notice my self-validation through talk of personal experience with this celebrity.)

And now for some fanfiction:

Beth Dekker strode into the empty theatre and stopped abruptly. She squinted to stare at the empty stage. It wasn't empty enough. She tilted her head to listen to the silence in the theatre. It wasn't silent enough. 'We can do better than this,' she implied with a subtle lift of an eyebrow. As she turned to leave, she ran into a familiar-looking man.

"Mark Rylance!" she gasped. "My hero!"

"I'm no hero," said Mark Rylance humbly. "I'm just an out-of-work actor."

"Out of work?" Beth asked incredulously.

"Since my last show wrapped, yes," Mark Rylance replied.

"When was that?"

"Last night."

Beth stared speechlessly.

"I heard you'd be here," said Mark Rylance. "I was hoping...."

Beth waited.

"Well, you see...I've always wanted to play Man in Beckett's 'Play,' but I've never heard of a director I trusted to bring it off."

Pause.

"Until today."

Beth gaped.

Mark Rylance waited.

A silence louder than any crowd rushed over the theatre.

'This is better,' Beth said (but only with a twitch of the lips that was almost a smile).

Mark Rylance nodded.

They raised their eyes to the stage.

It was empty.

Empty.

Of all but hope.

SCENE