I'm sure though, that it hurts me far more than it hurts you. To my handful of followers, and assorted friends that actually read this, I apologise from the bottom of my nauseous and feverish heart.
I'm sick. A full-blown, run to the toilet for fear of chundering in my bed, fever'd up, tissues littered around the bin sickness. It ain't pretty, I'll tell you that much for free. It also means that after being on a film shoot all weekend and not earning money, I've spent the last two days dragging myself to various places of employment and bailing after a couple of hours, thus still not earning any South America party-money. Luckily it's also the kind of sickness that makes it all too clear that I'm certainly not faking, so that's one thing I don't have to worry about.
Back to bed I went, to have bizarre sickness dreams. These include but are not exclusive to: wading around in pools of dead fish and monsters, and finding a boy I used to see in a jail in Denmark, doomed to spend the rest of his days living in a dirt pit. We had sex, then it was Christmas, then I woke up. I woke up confused, and had a coughing fit.
|What the fuck was that.|
Being sick means I now have time to write.
It also means that if I were to choose a word to describe the state I'm in at the moment, it would not be "winning". And certainly not #winning. Certainly not.
In a conversation earlier tonight with Dave, we discussed (amongst other things), the way in which various celebrities are treated during and after a spiralling trainwreck episode, whatever that might entail. In addition to this, it's interesting to note the difference between the reactions afforded to male, as opposed to female, celebrities.
For instance, let us ponder for a moment, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and to a lesser extent, Winona Ryder. During and after their spiraling downfalls, it seemed inconceivable that their careers would ever recover, given the vitriol and hatred sent in their directions, and the glee that everyone seemed to take in watching the trainwreck unfold.
Fastforward a little while, with the media and blogosphere having moved on somewhat, and their respective careers have recovered to varying degrees of success. I mean, if you call Lohan getting her tits out in Machete a "come back", that is.
|Probably not #winning.|
After being fired from his hit TV show, and having endless nights of publicly described debauchery involving hookers and trashed hotel rooms, it seems as if his career is far from being shot and dead on the floor. Rather, he's become something of an internet hero. It almost seems as if now when one describes something or someone as "winning", then one must add a hashtag at the beginning of the word, and tip one's hat in Mr Sheen's direction.
Gaunt, chain-smoking and erratic, Sheen's interviews of late are a sight to behold. Soundbite after soundbite, interview after interview. It's fascinating, is what it is. Seemingly taking any interview that he gets requested for, Sheen appears to be on a mission to prove how much he just does not give a shit. That, in my opinion, is part of the reason why suddenly it's so hard to hate this person who really shouldn't be endearing in the slightest. He beat up on his wife, right? He's kind of fucking psychotic, right? But man, there's just something about Carlos Estevez that has made me spend the last half-hour or so looking up his recent interviews on Youtube.
I can almost imagine his publicist having a sudden brainwave.
"What the fuck do we do? Charlie was fired! He's fucked! I'm fucked!
Then, after an interview or two, and a few cocktails or lines of coke with his cash cow while watching the fall out of said videos ...
"EUREKA! Just let him say whatever the fuck he wants!"
I do think that there's something about Sheen's complete lack of remorse that is not only kind of transfixing, but also rather ingratiating; albeit, not deliberately so. I can't imagine he gives much of a shit about what Australian twenty-somethings think about his antics.
At any rate, I found that while I was watching "that" interview at the end of February, I was thoroughly entertained by this dude with a terrible TV show that just did not seem to give a shit about what the interviewer thought. Typically, a fallen celebrity will do a tell-all interview in the hopes of reaching as many screens as possible with their remorse and shame and "I was in a bad place and I'm so happy to be out of it and I'll never do it again please re-hire me" message. Sheen though, declared that he was in fact, proud of his recent drug binges (despite being clean at the time of the interview), and then seemed shocked that the interviewer was shocked that he could be at all proud.
The now-infamous interview spawned that first barrage of sound-bites, that Sheen proclaimed he was "bi-winning", not bi-polar, that he was "bangin' seven gram rocks, and finishing them!", that "dying's for fools!", that so much of his behaviour could be attributed to the fact that he has one speed, that of "GO!". He claimed that he made Sinatra, Flynn, Richards look like "droopy-eyed, armless children". Perhaps it's a respect (is that the right word?) often afforded to someone who sticks it to the man, who flicks a cigarette in the direction of the haters, but the steadfast, complete lack of shit-giving and the complete lack of self-censorship made me suddenly like this train-wreck of a man. It's as if his game plan at that point was simply, "Fuck it. Tell 'em everything."
Since then, the game plan seems to have altered ever so slightly. "WINNING" has now become Sheen's catchphrase, his battle cry, a brand if you will. Countless interviews later, and Sheen seems hell-bent on constantly mentioning how much he is, in fact, winning. Having been asked about what he planned on doing with regard to his child custody hearing, he texted People back with, "Born ready. Winning." Not that I mind that he's beating "WINNING" into the ground. If we focus on WINNING, then we overlook his comments about warlocks, tiger blood, not being of "this particular terrestrial plane" and countless other gems.
Charlie Sheen's incessant interview giving, and his complete lack of self-censorship during his at times almost stream-of-consciousness ranting has spawned all manner of Adonis-blood infused warlock children. These include not only countless youtube remixes (including this dubstep one I particularly enjoy), but also a game on Newgrounds, t-shirts and a Jimmy Fallon spoof that is actually completely on the money and hilarious.
In particular, I'd like to direct your attention to this, a video starring Sheen on Funny or Die. On one hand, it's a shame to see the former superb young actor of Wall Street and Platoon (God, he was good in that...) fame reduced to this sort of stupidity. On the other hand, it's kind of fucking funny. It's Charlie Sheen's Winning Recipes in which the actor details the ways in which to cook while also winning. I laughed. I also felt my liking of Sheen rise a little more. Isn't that crazy? Perhaps then, we can equate "winning" to being synonymous with "not giving a shit" and "having a sense of humour and taking the piss out of oneself". Sure, much of the endless "winning" ranting on any talk show that'll have him is probably an attempt to stay in the headlines long enough to get a new television deal, but watching this video I find myself being sympathetic and laughing with (not at) someone who probably doesn't really deserve my sympathy.
Charlie Sheen's Winning Recipes from Charlie Sheen
I think there's a few lessons we can garner from this Sheen business.
I think most importantly, if you're going to go on a drugs n' hookers binge and get fired from your hit Emmy-award winning yet utterly terrible TV show, don't lie about it. Instead, embrace it! Revel in it! Then everyone will like you. Drug busts and debauchery don't have to be your downfall! It could be the resurgence your career's been waiting for. Isn't that right, Kate Moss?
Try to Win, just like Charlie. Adopt an "I don't give a shit" attitude, insult a few people, get one or more (preferably more) porn-star live-in girlfriends and dub them your "Goddesses"! Hell, get yourself a catch phrase! Soon you''ll not only be the toast of the internet, but you'll have a regular spot on the nightly news. Any publicity is good publicity, right? Maybe you'll get a TV deal out of it! And an entirely new generation and demographic of fans wearing your face on a t-shirt!
I wonder what Martin Sheen is thinking, when he turns on the news or ET and sees his hilarious train wreck of a son? I wonder if Emilio parties with him? I wonder if fellow brat-packer heart throb Rob Lowe wishes he could have his scandal over again, in this day and age instead of the 1980s?
For now though, I have to admit that I'll be following this whole saga with some interest. That is because I honestly have no idea of how it's going to play out. Will he OD? Will one or more of his "Goddesses" kill him? Will he get re-hired onto Two and a Half Men after publicly insulting the show's creator, Chuck Lorre? Or will he suddenly get signed up for his own talk show? I'm really not sure. Judging by the recent Sheen's Korner however, my money's certainly not on the last option.