anyway, almost thirty years ago, as i walked lost on the avenue of the americas in nyc, feeling like the loneliest person surrounded by strangers in the horrendous dirty little planet that manhattan was (and is), i run into Robin Williams. actually, it was more like i rammed into him, because i am clumsy and as usual, i was walking distracted. he smiled, perhaps expecting me to recognize him, which i did a few steps later (coño, that was mork!). but then, right in front of him, i just kind-of-excused myself and continued walking north, feeling, yes... a bit suicidal. but just a bit, like probably everyone else that walked around me. and a bit is never enough courage to complete the deed. a bitonga perhaps is the right amount...
but i was not a fan then, and never was, really. however, as a young-not-so-acid-me i loved Mork and the frenzy in his blue eyes when he went off in rampages of high-velocity apparently silly humor. it seemed that he owned the world and all of us inside it in those sharp-quick-tongue-twisters of his. so, i guess i had my fifteen seconds of brushing-with-fame when i crossed his path that day and saw his twinkling blue eyes up-close... so there, much more intimacy than most people have in their whole lifetime... with a star.
and now he is dead, perhaps because he wanted to be it, dead. and so it goes, the perfect ending action to always wanting more, or less, as an answer to the constant quest... so restINpeace, frantic-robin... but i know there´s an oxymoron hiding in that wish...
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