Dear Derek...

Spent the afternoon talking to a friend. He's helped me out, of late. For real, you know; the kind who picks up the check--not that this is about money; friends aren't about money, let's be real clear on this.

Did you buy your friends a lot of dinners, Derek, did you huh? Better still, did you listen to their problems a lot and like a loon try to solve them all. *grin*

That is more of what I see as a friend. Don't you think?

I spent some time this evening, emailing another friend who I hope will be a writer, some day. He told me lots. I told HIM lots. That's a nice sensation--have you experienced that, in your life, before, Derek--I bet you have; I bet there were a lot of people in the life of Derek Taylor, yes? Some who even stayed behind, after the movie and music and the madness stopped, am I right?

I'll have some of that, please. Bring it on, I'm waiting. *griN*

I got a message from some guy in a tribe. He has thousands of friends, apparently. And he asked me to join him.

Sounds more like a fanbase. I spent most of my day with only two people; I'm trying to imagine the numbers he suggested.

How can you have that many friends and still be friends, is my question here. Or is that just a fanbase, Derek. Did you have a fanbase? Oh, I'm sure you did, but I think it was more than that too.

Least I hope so.

Sleeping well, I hope?

Talk to you.

Heather, wondering about friends, this fine cool evening.
(I wrote this last night and posted it to my
heatherlovatt.modblog.com)

Derek Taylor is my muse, of sorts. Though he _was_ a real man. A friend and press agent to the Beatles. You heard of him?