How insensitive is it for me to be trying to make this movie inspired by the brutal murder of a close friend's girlfriend's father. That's an honest question I've been grappling with from the moment the idea first began to incubate.
     The more I got to know Tamara, the sadder I became when she was around. She's a beautiful, vibrant young girl whose suffering is clearly very deep and new to her. I can't even imagine what it's like to lose someone so unexpectedly.
     Rasheed's affectations or more on the embittered side. When he's sad, he's also pissed. For as long as I've known him, I've attempted with a certain amount of success not to piss him off. With this whole film idea, I came pretty damn close.
     The night following the death, I was at Rasheed's house watching TV. We'd spent a total of eight to ten hours together over the last two days just because Rasheed needed someone to talk to. I did a lot of listening.
     But after the onset of this idea in that first night, it was hard for me to disengage from that process and listen to Rasheed discuss these details without an ear to the compelling tragedy that had unfolded and what was left after the initial climax. For that reason, and perhaps out of fatigue and boredom, I found myself stupidly blundering into an explanation of the idea sometime after 2 am.
     It began okay. A simple explanation of this post-apocalyptic realm I'd imagined. Rasheed listened quietly. He may have even asked a question about it, something I could have mistaken for enthusiasm which gave me reason to tumble blindly into the crux of the story which was not-so-loosely based on the events that had transpired not 48 hours earlier.
     As if the pained grimace on Rasheed's face wasn't sign enough that what I had done was uncharacteristically insensitive, he went ahead and quietly asked me to stop talking because he was too tired to think about a project idea. We went back to watching TV for a few moments before he finally asked me to leave.