“Something’s shifted in me.”
“The world is not the same anymore. And so my priorities aren’t either.”
“How will you move forward?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I know art will always be a significant part of my life, but it’s not going to be the same. I mean, I can’t see myself caring for, say, a Honda commercial when our lives are going to change forever. Everything we know as a given is going to be flipped on its head.”
“You make it sound like a tsunami’s going to hit.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. It doesn’t look good. I have very educated, political people in my life who run companies that protect our constitution and they are worried. If they are worried, then I am very worried,” he laughs nervously.
“What can you do?”
“Start small. Attend our weekly meetings, make calls to our local representatives — you know they record those, right? They work — learn about laws, I might nominate myself to be in the Santa Monica Democratic Club.”
“You’d be great for that!”
“Yeah. I mean, politics has always been important to me. Straight out of college, I went to volunteer in South America to help implement effective educational systems for the children in small pueblos. I write plays about politics, I mean, it’s what I do. This is me.”
She nods and smiles at him.
He sighs. “All I got are the next steps through to December. We’re hoping to shoot some political videos, we’re hoping to get our representatives on the phone, and we will continue to expose Trump’s actions throughout his campaign. That’s what I got.”
Her mind trails off… What am I doing? Am I taking this seriously?
To be continued…