Stupid Rachel, stupid.

I'm at the Motley working on my thesis, and less than 15 minutes ago freaking John Cameron Mitchell, director of Hedwig and the Angry Inch (one of my favorite movies ever), was sitting at the table next to mine. He's here for a screening of Shortbus (his infamous non-pornographic movie in which all the actors and actresses nonetheless have actual sex on camera), and he was talking to a couple of students from the organization sponsoring the screening...not that I was trying to listen in or anything.
So anyway, I introduced myself during a gap in the conversation, and while this encounter managed to go a little better than my last encounter with a famous gay guy, I still managed to come off sounding like a tongue-tied, starstruck idiot. I guess for all my cynicism, I get just as caught up in the whole celebrities-as-demigods mythos as everyone else. Or maybe I was just so afraid of saying something stupid in front of the artistic genius that I couldn't say anything substantial at all. Argh.