We're going to pause for a moment of silence on Unapologetic Fiction for a day or two. I'll be back with AMST as soon as time and mood allow. Mostly, I think that the death of Robin Williams deserves a brief break in normality.
I've never been a 'celebrity' person. By that, I mean, I've never understood our fascination with them. Probably because my celebrities have always been writers. I'll read countless articles on Stephen King but couldn't give two shits about some celebrities affairs or the clothes their babies are wearing. To me, they are simply people who act for a living. Some are more interesting than others, but at the end of the day--just normal people who do a job.
But once in a while some of them are more than average people who act for a living. Robin Williams was one of my personal exceptions. I have cried once (now twice) at the death of a celebrity. When John Ritter died I surprised everyone and myself by bursting into tears. I mourned him. I mourned Jack Tripper. I mourned countless hours spent enjoying goofy seventies hijinks. I mourned what I beleived to be a good person. Because he gave off that vibe when you saw him in interviews. I mourned a chunk of my childhood I could never get back.
Ditto Robin Williams. I grew up with him as Mork. I looked forward to seeing him and his susupenders and whatever misunderstanding he'd happen to have that week. When I walked into Dead Poets Society many, many years later and saw he was a main character in the film, I was shocked. Robin Williams in a serious role? No way, he'd never pull it off.
Oh Captain! My Captain indeed. Sleep well, Robin. You brought countless joy to people who sometimes needed a friend via TV. To a little girl who had lost her father and needed to laugh more than cry. I wish you peace and I would like to say, personally, that despite you falling into the category of 'celebrity' I loved you. For what you gave me and for who you were. And I will miss you being in this world.
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