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Mon | February 06, 2006

moby and opium

On Saturday night I went to the release party for opium .print #2. Moby was there. I have no idea how Todd got him there, or if it was just coincidental. I doubt it was coincidental.

I was standing with Curtis and Tao and Curtis said, "he could walk out with any woman in this room." I think the topic of discussion was whether Moby was cool, and this was Curtis's reasoning.

"He couldn't walk out with me," I said.

But a few seconds later Moby looked at me (and I of course looked at him, though I have no idea what expression was in my eyes when mine met his). Thereafter he seemed to be keeping track of where I was. Then, at the break in the reading when I left the people I was with and made my way through the crowd and down the stairs to the bathroom, he appeared a half-minute after me at the bottom of the stairs. There was one person between us on line. The guy two people ahead of me had started a conversation with the girl behind me because she was wearing some Seattle-connected t-shirt. We were not standing front to back, but side to side, and it would have been easy to say something to Moby.

I really wanted to. I wondered what the etiquette was-- whether it was rude to talk to a celebrity. Everyone else was letting him be. I wondered if he would react negatively. If I should know more about him first. I have some of his music but I'm not sooo familiar with it. And I wondered what the point was, really. What could I possibly accomplish with a few seconds of chit chat. Then I went back to wondering whether he would be happy if I said something to him. I tried to think, if I were a celebrity, or if I were Moby, whether I would want to be bothered. Whether he would think I was pretty or intelligent or both. Whether he thinks anyone is pretty or intelligent, after all the women he undoubtedly sees. What his motivation was, what he could possibly get out of it. My motivation was clear. But I did not know what I could possibly give him. Certainly not insight on his career, since I had not followed it. There are very few, if any, celebrities to whom I could give informed advice to, or even make an intelligent comment about something they did.

Nigrash. My word for the mess of doubts and thoughts and what if's that jumble up inside my brain when I am considering some hypothetical action-- a maby bubble. Usually the maby bubble is something that I on some level know that I would be much better doing poorly than not at all.

This was definitely such a case. It had been awhile since I was ever in such a situation-- I did not recognize it at the time. And yet that's another excuse. I should have swept my doubts aside and just said something. Anything. I totally could have.

The question I never considered before last Saturday and that I am now turning over in my mind is, Would I sleep with a celebrity?

Whoa, how do I get from talk to sex? Partly that's Curtis fault for putting it in my head at the beginning. But I like to think all the possibilities through to the end. It informs how I am. I would say how I act, but I don't really act. I just am one way or another or another.

So I have been thinking, would I talk to a celebrity, would I talk to Moby. And if he said come hang out at this other place, would I go. And if he said come back to my place, would I go, and then if... I suppose the ultimate answer is yeah, if I wanted to. It all goes back to whether you're attracted to the person or not. At the end of the day (or night) it's a question of person, and not of celebrity.

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