"Is this Christopher Hitchens?" I heard Susan say into the phone. Then: "Is this the Christopher Hitchens?" Then: "I guess you get that a lot."

Certainly from fawning fans like us. We has just discovered that the controversial hypocrisy-hunting journalist was listed in the phone directory. We were awed. Hitchens, who has penned acid anti-tributes to such revered figures as Mother Theresa and Princess Di, is one of the luminaries of our personal creative universe. His frequent specialty is skewering mighty public personages who enjoy widespread popular support despite ample evidence that they are not what they seem. Following the quick departures of those two targets, he has since turned his furious attentions on Bill Clinton. However we might squirm at his virulent condemnations of the alledgedly-progressive figurehead of our political affiliations, we admire the heck out of his capacity to stake out unpopular positions against what he sees as politically machanized con jobs.

Now Susan was chatting amiably with our hero on the phone, and it wasn't even long distance. She called to solicit his input on a book she's editing about another current holder of the celebrity limelight.

[Writing this, I became curious about the origins of the word "limelight." It's an idiom hailing from the 19th century, after a British chemist named Sir Humphrey Davy discovered that lime (calcium oxide, for the scientifically minded) produced a brilliant white light when heated to a high temperature. "Limelight" became widely used in theaters of the time, especially to illuminate the important actors on stage. "In the limelight" soon became a popular metaphor for "the center of attention." This etymological tidbit comes from the Word Detective, who has the enviable job of writing about words and language. I tend to believe that etymology might have been the protoform of postmodernism, in that it uses a medium (language) as a tool to deconstruct itself.]

Susan and I indulged in a brief fantasy that "Hitch" (as we hear he's called by friends and thus fantasized ourselves calling him) would soon be our pal. We considered how lovely it would be when Hitch came by to sip booze and chat in the back yard. We eventually came down to the more earthy assumption that Hitch has enough friends and may not be in the market for more. Hitch is, after all, relatively famous in some circles, and we, to our dismay, aren't. It must be difficult to become friends with people you admire -- there's all that nasty adoration to overcome, beginning with the inevitable discovery that they're shorter than you imagined. I have no idea how tall Christopher Hitchens is, but unless your idols are basketball players or Presidents, they seldom tower they way you think they will. Fortunately, Hitchens appeared interested in her book, so we may at least get to meet him.

We vowed that even when we're famous, we'll keep our regular phone listing in the book, just like Christopher Hitchens.

In other news, work continues on Omline, the upcoming zine about death and dying. The graphic draft is beginning to take shape, and I've had a few folks express an interest in contributing. I find myself wanting this magazine to emerge in absolute perfection, instantly attract a large and active community of readers, and become a cultural touchstone by, say, Volume 1 Number 2. It will probably take longer than that. While promoting it on the front page of the Seven Deadly Sins will likely bring in a few dozen visitors a day, I still have yet to assemble a complete plan on how we will advertise it to the general public. Since the zine isn't a commercial venture, there's nothing riding on it but the usual products of a labor of love. Still, a solid readership is the whole point; there's not much reason to do a zine without it. I want this to get some attention, and to do that, we'll have to do something attention-getting. But what...

If you want to lend your words to what is certain to be an engaging and controversial publication, I'd love to hear it. Send me your idea, and we'll see what happens.