27 October 2002 - 4:11 p.m.

Sigh.

Richard Harris died.

I can go on and speculate what this means for the septology or whatever the hell you'd call the rest of the seven Harry potter movies, but I won't. Because, frankly, the studio era is long gone, and signing anyone for a seven-picture deal in this day and age is asking for disaster.

And as much as I hate to admit it, my first thought when Jess told me about this was "Damn! That sucks! But at least it wasn't Maggie Smith."

I'm a bad fan. Particularly since Richard Harris was probably my first favorite celebrity.

I was a FUCKED up child.

But those of you who are/were reading his obits or are/were as shamelessly into show tunes as I am will no doubt remember that R.H. (what is it with me and those initials?) toured in the revival of Camelot in the early 80s. The revival came to Pittsburgh twice in two years, and I saw it both times, at the ages of 2 and 4.

My grandmother wanted to broaden my cultural horizons. My mom wanted to instill in me a healthy sense of celebrity worship. I leave it up to you to decide who succeeded.

Anyhoo, I guess it was the second time around that my mom decided to help me get pumped up for the performance by helping me cut out a picture of Richard Harris in full King Arthur regalia from the newpaper. I taped the picture to my closet door. Aww.

Celebrity death is so important. It wasn't until this moment that I ever paused and considered that when I was all of freaking four I hung my first pin-up, and it was of Richard Harris. I could just stop this diary and end my life after typing that sentence, since it pretty much sums up my whole childhood, and points in the direction that my adult life seems to be going.

But, anyhoo. Camelot. It's gorgeous, and I listened to the movie soundtrack yesterday, on CD. My mom of course has it on vinyl, and before I started school (kindergarden, not university) I would listen to it every day after my nap.

Clearly, I was born obsessive.

But listening to the characteristically loverly Lerner and Lowe soundtrack, I thought maybe, since Gus and I are getting married in an Arthurianesque setting, maybe we should use some of the music from Camelot in our ceremony, perhaps the song that's called "The Wedding Ceremony."

Never fear, Bot. We will just have to push the outro from "Layla" to the recessional, which makes more sense, anyway.

But really, I feel like it's important to acknowledge the fact that I would seriously not be who I am today if not for Richard Harris, even if that is the scariest realization I have ever had to come to in my wretched life.

Sigh.

But, again, at least Maggie Smith is still alive.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: