The real world is a lot to get back to, especially just the next day.  Adrian asked me yesterday outside of the mausoleum:  Are you sure you still want to do that tomorrow?  Ryan, Tony - everyone will be totally understanding.  Yes.  It’s beats sitting around home watching everyone cry.

It was just a little windy, and the sun was bright enough to push the buildings to the ground.  I could see South Bend in ruin (like I always can when I’m not quite here).  10,000 years ago, or from now - I won’t be here and it won’t matter.  And the VAB building will be the shell of the ugly that it always was.  I ordered ham and potato soup and surprised Adrian that I was eating.  I had Arby’s right after Chris and I finally broke up - I’ve given up on that fasting thing.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t bitter - just sharp.  Very real.  I didn’t feel a need to express my pain to the world, though Ryan and Adrian waited for me to stand and throw a chair (just cause).  But, the cafe furniture at Fiddler’s looks like wrought iron - it probably wouldn’t be fun.  I don’t have the strength to hardly move, anyway.

Tony sat and I shook his hand.  I did not show the cards of my loss.  Less than a week ago, so much was different - but all the same.  And here we were, pressing on, even if it killed me.  It quite could.

He had a large portfolio bag with him, and he shifted in his seat as he set it on the ground.  I wondered what was inside, and if this would be what we were looking for.  Months of searching for special effects gurus had originally proved –bad– and then exploded - hopefully we’d see something similar.  And, as he started to speak and tell us of his passion for pen and paper, I looked to the sky and wondered if Mom was watching.  Was this the one?  Could he sketch our dream?

We’re getting together Thursday to try some boards.

Chris is waiting for me, but I don’t want to go home.  I came over to Adrian’s instead.

7:52 pm

tags: chris, fiddler's, mom, storyboarding, Tony