Media Slut.

I am a media slut. That is because I have been interviewed by journalists no less than three times over the last two weeks for the show I am currently working on called “Let’s Mixit.” I love being interviewed because it forces me to think about my life in a sensational and entertaining way so as to provide the journalist with stuff that will make stimulating reading. Luckily my life has been quite strange so far so I haven’t had to fabricate anything just yet. I don’t know many other people who make a living performing as other genders, races and now, religions. (I am currently playing a middle-aged Muslim woman.) Being interviewed makes me feel less ordinary and cellophane-like. It is my ambition to eventually be so famous, and have had so many interviews, that I eventually find them tedious. Not a very original ambition I guess. Not as original as the man in Seapoint who has spent his life, trying to look exactly like, Rod Stewart. He must enjoy the attention he gets when people mistake him for the vintage rock star as he walks on the promenade. He is an original by making himself into a replica and I admire his dedication and attention to detail. I mean, he could have chosen Brad Pitt or even Warren Beatty but chose Rod instead.
I like the idea of thousands of copies of my name and face being printed out and distributed world-wide. I imagine the ink from the picture of my face smudging the hands of hundreds of strange people that I will probably never meet. Maybe my face will become a fish and chips parcel or a contributing aspect to a ten-year-olds’ paper mache’ bowl. Sweet!
Maybe someone will see my picture and read about me and fall madly in love and know that I am the person they are to spend the rest of their life with. Hopefully this person will be gorgeous, wealthy and not mentally unstable. I would hate to have to get a restraining order as I doubt how effective they are in South Africa. (I imagine the police are so busy fighting the hectic crime that they wouldn’t find the time to help me keep a freak at bay.)
Maybe this is the start of my spectacular career and all these interviews will act as a catalyst to catapult my reputation onwards and upwards. Then I will finally pay off all my debt and eventually start getting in the property market and buying fabulous fashionable and faddish things.
Then some time after ten years from now I will drive past the promenade and see a complete stranger and say to my chauffeur: “Strange, that man looks just like me.”