Famous people 

I used to wonder why people (including me) are fascinated by famous people. 

I was in New York for James Browns funeral and the streets were lined. Even I stood on tips to get a glance, but what for? The behaviour curiosited me. 

My conclusion is now that famous people become archetypical. The archetypical mother, father, leader, partygirl, dream boat, lad, son, villain. And they are so cool to meet because you already know them. They are imagined. 

It must be a boring pressure for the subject. Imagine every time someone meets you, they aren’t really meeting you. You would become a constant disappointment or (perhaps worse) a pumped up unachievable version of an imagined self. It might make you cold, disconnected or at least guarded and lacking in self esteem. You might try to morph yourself into what you thought they saw.

A famous person is a little bit of how it should be – rather than how it really is. The holy grail of existence to achieve the shoulds. 

My guess is most famous people don’t even open their mouths. The fan boys just fill in what they think they see. James brown didn’t say a word.

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