Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Dream jobs
What I'd be if I weren't me-Dialect coach. Too bad the only accents in my swag are Bad Irish and Worse British. And Insultingly Stereotypical German and French as well.
-Documentary maker. The type where you interview people and make them cry and tell their deep dark secrets and make the audience feel a shiver down their back while they vow that never again will they let massacres and holocausts and wars and suicides and rapes happen. None of that re-enactment shit, no dramatic music or voice-overs. Just people telling stories.
-Interviewer, à la Andrew Denton. As above.
-Chef, like that guy on that Sunday cooking show you watch when you've slept in and are too lazy to do any housework, you know the one, who goes around on a yacht and finds the freshest ingredients and cooks them for the working men who catch or pick or grow said ingredients and who politely eat their avocado paté with caviar pasta while secretly longing for a hearty pie, damnit.
-Writer, because you can just take off to Patagonia or Timbuktu and all you need is your pen and your Moleskine and your flaskful of absinthe for a suitably tortured soul.
-National Geographic photographer. Too bad I can only think in text, not pictures.
-Director. You can create your own world, nuff said.
-Actor. You get to kiss the beautifulest people around, nuff said.
# posted at 12:49 pm
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