I formulated the idolatry theory, which says, “everyone is bound to have strong sense of idolatry; that at a particular time in one’s life, one is ought to be obsessed with a well-known character or group (i.e. TV/movie star, musician, politician, boyband, athlete, artist) to the point of beaing ridiculously passionate about the person or group.” I did fall for one.
I could practically fill out the dude’s bio-data for him. All he had to do was put his thumb mark. For me it was a fixation, more of a delusion, actually. I first saw him way back in highschool when he was an informal instructor and was attending an activity in the writing center. It was like seeing an apparition. I only knew the basics then: He was a poet, he had a “rock” band and he was the frontman. “so that’s him,” I thought, “The dude who wrote those cool poems I read in the library.” Somehow, the gods or the muses or cupid toyed with me and the next thing I know, I was a full-fledged stalker. He indirectly reintroduced me to literature. I started calling myself a “groupie” of this poet-musician. It was supposed to be a healthy thing for an aspiring writer, till I started looking for his battered sedan(whose plate number I memorized) each school day in the university parking lot just to know if I’d see him. He was shorter than the average guy, definitely no matinee-idol material with his receding hairline, thick goatee, gaunt frame and beer belly. Still I called him god. Maybe it was his pseudo-celebrity stature that got me or maybe it was the way he slouched and moved in a loose-jointed way. He was a modern-day beatnik and I adored him…. Hahahahha pagkabuang jud nako sa!? Unya…. He was paneling for school-wide literary fellowship and I knew it was my chance. But first I had to become a fellow to the writer’s guild where being a member was like being in a frat. So one had to practically go through a literary hazing before one could become a fellow. I had to submit five poems that would be screened by writers and the director of the writing center; take an exam; and undergo an interview. And I had no knowledge in poetry then save for a few nerudas. Guess what? I passed. With my “MAERYL D. fantasies” as the driving force. I got his cell phone number for business matters and that could have been the worst day of his life. The electronic stalking started. He was friendly at first but things got offhand. I texted him madly for months, professing, uhm, love. He didn’t reply. I was convinced I could kick the habit and the idol-worship would stop. To celebrate my “freedom” I rounded up some friends for a few drinks(some of them he knew too), but things got wayward. We all got drunk and things became bloody. On the way home, a guy friend and I fell hard on the damp street pavement and he smashed his head. He lost his two front teeth.(lol) we both sustained bruises in the face. I was hysterical as we took him to the hospital. I did what only an obsessed drunk could: I texted my idol at 4 a.m: “I am so f---ing drunk. This guy lost his teeth in an accident and we are in the hospital. This is all because of you. Die.” The morning after he told a common friend, a schoolmate, to relay this message to me: “Do you know angel? Could you please do me a favor? Please tell her to f--- off.” I seriously considered seeing a shrink because of that pathetic scandal. I was depressed for a month. NGAONONG NI ENTER!!!!! MAO TO…. I stopped watching gigs and poetry readings altogether. I’ve been clean since.i started meeting new friends and years later had a classmate-friend who turned out to be his pal, too. Classmate and I agreed to watch rock star’s gig. He reintroduced us and the rockstar nearly choked on his beer and said : “kaila man ko nimo!” “sorry for all the troubles before,” I said. “wala ra to oi,” he replied. I started watching gigs again and brought along people who would bring along people to the gigs, too. Years later, the common friend whom he asked to tell me to “f--- off” said that rock star’s girlfriend at that time had found out about my stalking. He said she found it ”cute.” Kudos to her for that. Now, rock star-poet and I are on beso-beso terms. I’d see him on gigs and readings. This is not to inspire crazy colegiala stalkers or aspiring groupies; not everyone could have claim to my, ehem, success story. This story should show what fan-girls could do for their beloved bands. Crazy, obsessive and scary, and sometimes fun, they’d do anything and everything for their idols to ridiculous limits… sabot!? ok
loco..confessions of an ex-GROUPIE!(im stupid..i know!)
Originally Posted by angel²
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