Baby got interviewed for a newspaper today. I, of course, sat in the sidelines, desperate to start talking about myself, about her, about anything. Baby is famous in ways I can only dream of. Google her and you’ll see, she’s practically Wikipedia material.
I’d love to be an interviewer. I imagine it must be like taking portraits photos. You kind of warm them up a little then step by step strip away their masks till you get down to their naked soul, which you steal and encage – it’s just like falling in love.
I think I will do that, I will interview people. One thing I’ve learned taking so many people’s pictures – they love talking about themselves, and I love them all. Ah, the freedom to love everybody without reserve or incarceration.
I’d love to be an interviewer. I imagine it must be like taking portraits photos. You kind of warm them up a little then step by step strip away their masks till you get down to their naked soul, which you steal and encage – it’s just like falling in love.
I think I will do that, I will interview people. One thing I’ve learned taking so many people’s pictures – they love talking about themselves, and I love them all. Ah, the freedom to love everybody without reserve or incarceration.
1 comment:
How does one not love talking about oneself?
Oh, wait. Maybe that's just ol' narcissistic me.
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