I think about how it could be, sitting around and thinking up shit to film, experiments and such. Brainstorming. And doing. I don’t have those kind of friends. My friends get annoyed when I drone on about film stuff. Well, at least the local ones. Even if they don’t say anything, I can feel it. The faraway ones probably would too. Not the really, really faraway one, though, the one I miss the most. He probably would have indulged me (he did before) and probably would be here right now egging me on to do something cool. Challenging me. Daring me. Triple dog double daring me.
But he’s not here.
I’m trying to do something good. Something unique. Something me. Something that other people might appreciate – if only after they’ve publicly ignored it. But it stayed with them. And they recognise what that means.
I’m trying to something that’s me. I don’t know what it is, but it seems whenever I actually do it, it IS me, like it or not. Win or fail.
I’m tryin’, Ringo, I really am.
Why are the ones who support me the most dead?