I know someone, no names, no pack drills, who yearned and longed for fame, and by jove didn't he get with millions watching him on TV and people stopping him in the street - so this is fame then is it, he wondered. You walk along the street carrying something extra like a pistol in your hip pocket
and people do kow tow as if on crutches or in braces and wheelchairs, your head is swimming with this new responsibility, fame, but you wear the cloak of fame lightly as a cloak to preserve your decency.
None the less you are burdened for you are expected to uncork the bottle of your genie to prove to others why you should be famous, it is an unwanted responsibility.
When his brief liaison with fame ended; when the pyrotechnics ran out and it all squibbed back down to earth, he thought of George Harrison speaking of his mega fame with the Beatles,
'I just thought what was all that about then.' (You need to hear the Liverpool accent to appreciate it).
'It is as if happened to another person.'
But if we enter into a more intellectual place of what fame's essence is;
first your self reliance is given a jolt,
'I always used to do things like that but not...well I do look over my shoulder...'
You find people who were once resentful are now obsequious and that can be embarrassing.
Mysteriously, one is abruptly valued. All that anger of not being recognised in the past has been replaced by something else. There is an assault on one's sense of rebellion, one is tranquillised Valiumed out.
Come on, come on, you have had it, fame, and is it better than anonymity, don't lie.
Yes, now that I don't have it - it was better than anonymity, but then I have always been
a self regarding egotist.