My creative comrade is currently traversing the steppes of the United States of America. Following the trail I left, and blazing his own footstamps.
We had a small conversation this morning whilst I wasted away in bed, suffering, perhaps in normal guilt over my first use of a sick leave. He said he had lots of GOSS for me. And by goss, he means adventure stories. A portraiture of the empty fields of green, the towering mountains as they pedalled across destinations and states, the variety of winter/autumn/going to summer jackets and pantaloons. I follow him in a basic, alternative way, my viewing window the size of a smart phone. Apple or banana.
We chatted cordially infused with superlatives and exclamation points. Of course I felt thrilled for him, exhilarated for his journey that I dragged him to go along to after my own. And we came upon a pow-wow about his return – his seeking my aid upon his return back home and the back and forth’s we will bestow upon our favourite media-sphere and its various universes. We both want to eventually return to that land and seek out a glorious way to serve.
He plans for five years, I plan for four. Working professionally for the experience and the earnings whilst I continue to expand my creative horizons side by side. Scripts in progress, producing and directing roles for the weekends to come, a novella creeping in…
Row, row, row the boat, gently down the stream,
Over the mountain gullies,
And tempest, storms, squalls.