Yoko freaking Ono follows me on Twitter.
Carrie Fisher blogs. :) :) :) :) :)
My brain's a-swirl with thoughts which are stumbling over, in, about & around metathoughts. Um. Why did I very nearly pee in my office chair when my Gmail inbox very nonchalantly informed me that 'yokoono' is following me? I know her name and have seen her work in museums and she's one of the most recognizable people in public life... ever, but is she more talented than other artists I have dialogue with? Well, actually she may be. She's pretty fucking fabulous. But is that why I fell out of my brain, or is it because FAMOUS NAME FOLLOWS ME! gasp! GAWK! GULP! gasp!
And why did I struggle to categorize Carrie Fisher's blog in my feed reader? She is a person, so she ended up in 'personal blogs.' She isn't in the 'fangirl' folder because she's not inspired in me the culty squee of say, (you know what's coming:) Neil Gaiman. Why is Carrie Fisher just a writer, but Gaiman is in his own rarefied category? (Whedonesque used to be in 'fangirl' with him, but they post prolifically, and often about stuff that is doesn't trip my particular fangirl switch.)
It's sort of like Web 2.0 made a weird crack in the perception of celebrity as other. I know that Neil had a cold a while ago and precisely the sort of "erm's" he made via phone when he was told in the early morning that The Graveyard Book won the Newberry, and that makes him seem more like a guy I know from the net who does great work and w00t! people recognize it than a mere name on a dust jacket.
Well. Regarding Coraline and my own life:
1. If Bu mentions the movie 'Caroline' once more I'll stroke out.
2. We have a Recession-Strapped, Low-Middle Class* Date-Night Hack: I'll pick him up a few minutes early from work tomorrow, thus still scoring matinee ticket prices and then we'll have dinner after the movie. Fabulous. He carefully broached the idea of a Saturday morning date, but the idea of sitting around the house Friday night totally without adorable puppet horror in 3D (with shiny, shiny buttons!) was reprehensible to your humble, over-caffeinated narrator, so he got creative and appeased me with the new plan.
*Full disclosure: since the last time I whined about being poor as hell and whaaaaa pity me, I have realized that with Bu's ongoing temp work- looks long-term enough we think/hope/need- we do now have middlin' income. But, with our giant, scary piles of angry, screaming debt, things are not fabulous. But we have heat and food and more space than we probably need and I am now feeling incredible asshattish for whining.