We live in a disposable diaper, disposable cell phone, camera; a disposable celebrity society. Talent is cherished one second and trashed the next. Nobody is immune — writers, actors, politicians, musicians.
You disappoint your fans, and you’re history.
Small wonder anybody even makes the effort any more.
The saddest people of all are those who ride the talented musician’s coattails to fame, then fall from grace to an ugly, mundane existence of domestic monotony. A true artist accepts this fate, even embraces the inner solitude as a wellspring of inspiration. It’s hell on earth for those close to him, however; accustomed to the fame and fortune they never earned.
This ex-rock star is actually a very cool and charismatic character. He’s smart, funny, impulsive, drug free, honest, and alcohol free. His wife hates him and his confident smugness, though. She wants the old glory days back (more than he does)… the giant house, the wealth, the allure, all the jealous eyes watching.
This woman resents having to work. She resents a creative man who can make her come to sexual climax with the beauty of mere words and music. How dare he!
Still, it doesn’t go well for our rock star. He’s still searching for the Holy Grail to get back on the charts again. He will never find happiness no matter how successful he becomes. This is the kind of life we doom all high school, college, and pro athletes (after 1-4 years in the game) who fade from glory.
We lock their psyche into a “hero complex” that will wreck their lives for ever and ever. We doom them to risk everything when that one beautiful chance to get it all back walks in the door and seduces them with “hope and change.”
In retrospect, I think nobody would ever strive for fame if they knew it’s ultimate cost in terms of personal stability, relationships, and basic core values.
