Bulb [not the brightest]

Before I divulge a little embarrassing tidbit about myself, I want to state for the record that I am horrible with names. I usually have to describe a person or their work to someone else "...you know, the woman who wrote that thing about the railroad and the utopian society, stopping the motor of the world and whatnot, you know, whazzername..." and have them tell me who it is. And I don't only forget the names of my favorite authors and directors and musicians and politicians, at one point or another I've had to resort to assigning pet names to family and friends because of a mental blackout, "Hey there!...(?)...Spunkypuss! How'd your interview go?" Trust me, I'm not that touchy-feely; all those "sweeties" and "honeys" and "darlin's" that drip out of my mouth are not terms of endearment, I simply can't remember who the fuck you are.

I've often wondered if my name block thing has anything to do with a childhood rife with abandonment. That remembering someone's name is one step closer to knowing them, and possibly loving them, and therefore hurting all the more when they eventually, enevidably, disappear. I've also wondered if it's the booze. Either way, I just suck at it and it's not getting any better with age.

That said.

Imagine my embarrassment today when I finally discovered that it was not, in fact, the Prime Minister of England Tony Blair who had caged himself over the Thames for 44 days without food; but controversial magician David Blane.

You have to give me a few points here people, it's not THAT big of a faux pas. I just figured Blair was doing it to atone, to make nice-nice for getting his country mixed up in the Iraq war. I thought all the egg throwing and laser pointing, the cutting off of his water supply and drum beating at dawn was part of the catharsis. And I only skimmed! I was skimming the damn stories. Jeeze.

Posted by Antigeist at September 25, 2003 03:18 PM