I had to meet a Famous-Person-Who-Is-Totally-Beyond-Criticism at their palatial home which was, naturally by the sea. They asked me to be bring a bottle of sealing wax to repair their vintage, partially decaying sailboat. I gladly obliged, seeing as it was, like the bridge toll, something I could easily expense. They began the interview by watering their plants, telling me, “one day, plants will water us.” The syntax reminded me of a young Yakov Smirnoff making me long for the simplicity of the Cold War. Remember when biggest mystery was what was on Gorbachev’s head? They told me about their latest album, upcoming gallery show, recent memoir, coffee filter sponsorship, and a line of fashionable dog collars for an unnamed Italian clothing company. I nodded in agreement; seeing as agreement was all I was instructed to do. By the end of the day, my neck ached so much for all that nodding. I wanted to bow, but it was easier to sink into their couch.
I figured the couch was Italian, somehow connected to the coffee partnership, but they corrected my error: it was Croatian. I had never sat in a Croatian couch before. Then again, I once took a nap in a Serbian chaise lounge, which is a part of a double dispute: one of borders and one of seating. When does a chaise lounge become a day bed or a full-on sectional? You can sleep on anything, and anywhere. I knew if I didn’t have some caffeine, I’d be out like a eco-friendly light, slowly dimming until a quick flickering and then dark.
They were off caffeine entirely. I had to satisfy my urges on homemade kombucha. At first, I wanted to retch, until I was informed the cost. That made me want to rethink my recent investments.
They told me about being an artist and how hard it was living in the public eye. My mind began wandering at this point, which is normal when speaking to celebrities. I pictured the public eye as an actual eye with schmutz in it. Whether it would be better to blink out to remove the grime or use one of those emergency eye washes found in every science lab from New York to Los Alamos. They explained how money isn’t everything, but how everything you want costs money. I agreed. Although I was getting money for this interview and I didn’t want it.
I mentioned how many people consider them groundbreaking, revolutionary, insanely popular and yet, despite this, quite marginalized. They nodded and said that fame and success is a horseshoe. I’d heard this theory before only about politics. But they were saying how the most famous people are a hair from ranting on a subway platform in a soiled Armani suit. When said like that, I couldn’t help but agree.
Their live-in chef made me a tuna salad and even removed the mercury from it by hand. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.
Before leaving, I asked if they had any job openings. How I was good with animals and quite handy. They seemed to have heard this before, ignoring me until I found the exit. I was a journalist, now I do PR. It’s easier, pays better, and there’s no shortage of coffee.
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