The year is 1994. The Artist finds himself in a situation no one ever thought could happen. How does he get out of it, or perhaps more importantly, how did he get there in the first place?
The trailer, courtesy of @QueenofDisco ...https://youtu.b...
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August 27, 1994
**The Artist POV**
I woke up sometime the next day, head resting on my office desk amidst all manner of papers strewn all over the place. This is what you get for not going to bed like a normal person...
Raking my fingers through my hair and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, my hand slowly makes its way back to rub the kink out of the back of my neck. I raise my arms, and attempt to stretch my aching muscles as I take in the mess surrounding me; the events of the day before clamoring their way through my mind just as a sheet of paper I was working on the previous night unglues itself from my face; fluttering haphazardly unto the desk my cheek was resting on just moments earlier...
Yesterday was, in short a mess. It all started with me being startled awake by the disturbing sight of Randy and Dick hovering over my sleeping form on my office loveseat...and only went downhill from there when I reached for the nearest available phone to try and warn Lani of the impending storm this day would bring.
After several unsuccessful attempts to reach her, I found myself forced to succumb to this press conference only for my worst fears to be realized when the media somehow zeroed in on my Lani...demanding answers I not only refused to provide, but ultimately refused to acknowledge. At this point, my only hope is that she didn't actually witness what was quickly becoming one of the worst days of my life so far...
The conference itself actually went by in a blur; my answers coming out in a sort of autopilot I've become accustomed to over so many years in this business. I'd learned from a young age that I need to separate myself from events like this if I'm ever going to get through them.
So while my mouth was spewing words I barely even registered, my mind was spinning. I quickly became absorbed with thoughts of Lani...inspiring a new song which started whirling itself through my mind in a continuous loop. Well Lani...it looks like this song is for you...
Eventually to my relief the conference drew to a close, and Steve appears to escort me off the stage, through the crowd, and into the house. At this point I'm anxious to get inside and away from people like these, who really couldn't give a shit about me...but rather, what my hard earned fame and success can do for them. Can't you people just leave me alone?
Randy and Dick's appearance was simply the straw that broke the camel's back, leading to my snappish response to them before Steve escorts me into the house, where I again attempted to reach my Lani with no success.
Following an afternoon like this, I again found myself wishing for the peace, and unexpected love that came with my memory loss. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
__
The rest of the night went by in a blur, as a feeling of hopelessness with reaching Lani settled over me. Melancholy quickly started to set in...however with the tune from earlier still teasing the corners of my brain, a distraction was provided and I quickly got to work.
