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bohemian_mark"Where're you going?" Mark looked up from his desk, as Roger grabbed his guitar.
"Don't you know?"
"No, I actually don't have any clue where you're going, Roger. Care to enlighten me?"
"I'm going to my gig, dumbass." Roger rolled his eyes, grabbing a bag of music along with his Fender.
"A -gig-? When'd you get a gig?" Mark turned around in his chair, puzzled. Pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless.
Roger glared at his roommate, putting down the guitar to cross his arms. "Oh, I see how it is. You're so caught up in everything, in your movie work, in that damned bar of yours, in Maureen, that you haven't even taken the time to realize what's going on right in front of your face. I started up the band again, Mark. Four fucking months ago."
Mark stared, gaping for a moment. "Roger, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I'd been that oblivious, that's wonderful. Where're you.."
"Shove it, Mark. You haven't cared up till now, and why should you start? I'm tired of you being so caught up in your work, and cutting yourself off from everyone else. You never stopped doing it."
"Yes, I have, Roger. I've tried to..."
"No you haven't, Mark, and you know it. You're just as isolated now as you were two years ago. It's just now you're fucking famous for being isolated."
"Roger, I'm sorry..."
"No you're not, Mark. If you were sorry, you'd change what you're doing. Nothing changes around here. Sure, there's money floating around now, but that's just trimmings." Roger grabs the guitar and the bag. "I'm moving out, Mark. I've got enough money from gigs that I don't have to hang around here anymore."
Mark dropped his notebook and stared at his roommate. "Roger... no. You don't have to move out. I'll be around more, I'll realize what's going on."
"Shove it, Mark. Nothing fucking changes with you. Ever." With that, Roger stalked out the door, and Mark closeted himself in his room, with camera and notebook.
The next morning, when Mark woke up, Roger was gone, along with most of his clothes, and his guitar and music. No note, nothing. It was going to be a very long day.
For someone who longs for a community of his own, who's with his camera, alone?
"Don't you know?"
"No, I actually don't have any clue where you're going, Roger. Care to enlighten me?"
"I'm going to my gig, dumbass." Roger rolled his eyes, grabbing a bag of music along with his Fender.
"A -gig-? When'd you get a gig?" Mark turned around in his chair, puzzled. Pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless.
Roger glared at his roommate, putting down the guitar to cross his arms. "Oh, I see how it is. You're so caught up in everything, in your movie work, in that damned bar of yours, in Maureen, that you haven't even taken the time to realize what's going on right in front of your face. I started up the band again, Mark. Four fucking months ago."
Mark stared, gaping for a moment. "Roger, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I'd been that oblivious, that's wonderful. Where're you.."
"Shove it, Mark. You haven't cared up till now, and why should you start? I'm tired of you being so caught up in your work, and cutting yourself off from everyone else. You never stopped doing it."
"Yes, I have, Roger. I've tried to..."
"No you haven't, Mark, and you know it. You're just as isolated now as you were two years ago. It's just now you're fucking famous for being isolated."
"Roger, I'm sorry..."
"No you're not, Mark. If you were sorry, you'd change what you're doing. Nothing changes around here. Sure, there's money floating around now, but that's just trimmings." Roger grabs the guitar and the bag. "I'm moving out, Mark. I've got enough money from gigs that I don't have to hang around here anymore."
Mark dropped his notebook and stared at his roommate. "Roger... no. You don't have to move out. I'll be around more, I'll realize what's going on."
"Shove it, Mark. Nothing fucking changes with you. Ever." With that, Roger stalked out the door, and Mark closeted himself in his room, with camera and notebook.
The next morning, when Mark woke up, Roger was gone, along with most of his clothes, and his guitar and music. No note, nothing. It was going to be a very long day.
For someone who longs for a community of his own, who's with his camera, alone?
