I saw Elizabeth Berkley in the foyer of my office today. She was asking about some photographs in another hallway of the building which she said "really affected her." They're nice photos, but more conducive to reflection than emotion. I don't want to keep mentioning celebrities I bump into, since I really don't care, but Elizabeth Berkley represents someone very special to my generation. She was a star of Saved By The Bell, an important pop culture reference, and then went on to star in the biggest nudie film of our teenage years. Let's face it, we all wanted to see Slater's girlfriend naked, and we all did, and we were all disappointed, not because she didn't have a great body but rather because the horrible movie it was couched in made it impossible to appreciate even when she showed her vagina. Showgirls has gone on to be a kitsch masterpiece beloved by the GAY community. When you have a movie with that many firm luscious female tushes and its primary audience is gay, well, that's an accomplishment of some sort.
As for me, I'm doing alright. I have the rest of the week off from work (Yay for not making any money) and hope to write feverishly. I think that what I've been doing over the last couple days is psyching myself up to go for broke. To be humiliatingly honest and let whatever I do stand on its own, not worry about how it reflects on me. I think that's a good thing. It takes a certain level of confidence, or being cornered, though. Nothing left to lose is just another word for freedom.