On saving water and J.D. Salinger

I finally took a shower today. The other day when I told my ex-boyfriend that I don't shower anymore because all I do is write, he said: "Babe, writers do take showers, you know." By the way, he didn't dump me because I reek of onion-you-didn't-want-in-your burger, no, he dumped me because I refused to shave my mustache. Shave, wax, make it disappear, whatever. And if you're curious why he still calls me "babe" it's because I insist on it. (I know, I'm just sick that way.) I told him I will agree to let him go, only if he promised to continue calling me "babe" as long as I live, even when I'm already in a nursing home playing with my teeth. He said fine, it's a small price to pay for his freedom from a mustachioed Asian.

Anyway, I've been reading about J.D. Salinger, the recluse author of Catcher in the Rye. His house sat on a hundred acres of land in Vermont and at the back of his house was a concrete bunker where he holed up to write. Salinger hid from the press or anyone who fawned on him, he refused to give interviews and after the first printing of Catcher, instructed his publisher to not put his picture at the back of the book, because he didn't want people to recognize him and stop him on the street.

Salinger became famous for not wanting to be famous. So I'm thinking: If I continue to not take a shower maybe I'll get famous, (as a freak or whatever) but then if I get famous, I'd be forced to take a shower, you know. Naah, I don't really want to be famous, but maybe just famous enough to be stalked. By Hugh Grant. Hugh Jackman. This is sooo not wrong.