One of the advantages of a blog over a regular journal, or an autobiography, is that you can say just as much or as little as you want about yourself. And what you say might not even be true: I did warn when I started this one that I made no claim to candidness. Will you believe me if I tell you that I have yet to take advantage of that latitude?
But even though I have so far never lied to my dear readers, they don't know all that much about me: I am French, I like food (I know, it's implied in the previous one, but at least you know some of the food I particularly like), I have a knack for insulting people from other countries (I know, implied), my social life relies heavily on a set of German foldable boxes... Quite sketchy, isn't it? If you have a fertile imagination, you might be thinking that such scant information has to hide some dramatic secret. Maybe I am some serial killer taunting the police with, in each of my posts, some cleverly disguised clues to my next vilainy - in which case I am probably playing it quite safe: how many of Scotland Yard's best are reading this blog?... Or maybe I am someone famous who has chosen the cover of anonymity to say at last what he really thinks. Not that my posts are hugely controversial, but between us, would you like people to know you wrote them?
Anyway, at the risk of disappointing the thrill-seekers, I am not a murderer. Too bad: it would make my posts so much easier to write! And probably so much more exciting to read... But does this mean I have to be famous, then? Indeed it does. Of sorts. Do you remember that I told you I had appeared on TV quite a few times, and in different countries? Well, you may even have seen me; that is, if you like quiz shows. After all, if you read this, you must have a lot of free time. No, I am not Gail Trimble, and you are not about to see some photos of me, however tasteful. But I have appreared to this day in about a dozen individual shows, not counting repeats. I even won a few, and I have a small glass pyramid to prove it (the cash is long gone unfortunately).
Even apart from that invaluable addition to the decoration of my house (actually, it's in a box somewhere), this interest of mine has brought me countless fringe benefits. I have been offered a behind-the-scene glimpse of how TV shows are recorded, I have been able to talk with game show hosts who are household names, and to realise that however difficult the questions they ask, a monumental intellect is not necessarily a criteria for their selection... I even had the priviledge to stand in a public urinal next to a very famous French director!
One side effect that it did not bring me is instant recognition. In fact, nobody has ever told me: "Don't I know you from that show?". Of course, they may have recognised me, and not said a word to avoid being outed as a dork who watches quiz shows... Whatever the reason, I should be thankful. Nothing would make me more uncomfortable than to have complete strangers stopping me in the street because they have seen my face on their TV screen, and think they know me because of that. Still, you can't help wondering if you are that unremarkable. Ah, to be a serial killer...
But even though I have so far never lied to my dear readers, they don't know all that much about me: I am French, I like food (I know, it's implied in the previous one, but at least you know some of the food I particularly like), I have a knack for insulting people from other countries (I know, implied), my social life relies heavily on a set of German foldable boxes... Quite sketchy, isn't it? If you have a fertile imagination, you might be thinking that such scant information has to hide some dramatic secret. Maybe I am some serial killer taunting the police with, in each of my posts, some cleverly disguised clues to my next vilainy - in which case I am probably playing it quite safe: how many of Scotland Yard's best are reading this blog?... Or maybe I am someone famous who has chosen the cover of anonymity to say at last what he really thinks. Not that my posts are hugely controversial, but between us, would you like people to know you wrote them?
Anyway, at the risk of disappointing the thrill-seekers, I am not a murderer. Too bad: it would make my posts so much easier to write! And probably so much more exciting to read... But does this mean I have to be famous, then? Indeed it does. Of sorts. Do you remember that I told you I had appeared on TV quite a few times, and in different countries? Well, you may even have seen me; that is, if you like quiz shows. After all, if you read this, you must have a lot of free time. No, I am not Gail Trimble, and you are not about to see some photos of me, however tasteful. But I have appreared to this day in about a dozen individual shows, not counting repeats. I even won a few, and I have a small glass pyramid to prove it (the cash is long gone unfortunately).
Even apart from that invaluable addition to the decoration of my house (actually, it's in a box somewhere), this interest of mine has brought me countless fringe benefits. I have been offered a behind-the-scene glimpse of how TV shows are recorded, I have been able to talk with game show hosts who are household names, and to realise that however difficult the questions they ask, a monumental intellect is not necessarily a criteria for their selection... I even had the priviledge to stand in a public urinal next to a very famous French director!
One side effect that it did not bring me is instant recognition. In fact, nobody has ever told me: "Don't I know you from that show?". Of course, they may have recognised me, and not said a word to avoid being outed as a dork who watches quiz shows... Whatever the reason, I should be thankful. Nothing would make me more uncomfortable than to have complete strangers stopping me in the street because they have seen my face on their TV screen, and think they know me because of that. Still, you can't help wondering if you are that unremarkable. Ah, to be a serial killer...
8 comments:
Mais qui donc était ce fameux réalisateur ? Des indices !
Nouvelle vague...
Godard ?
Rivette ?
No again. Think about a very nice dish...
truffaut avant sa crise cardiaque ?
Still no. I think there are only two left... ;-)
Chabrol ?
Post a Comment