Pen & Ink #13: The Professor
This one almost didn’t happen tonight. I had a very long day teaching guitar lessons, and I taught a class that didn’t end until 8:30. I got home exhausted and saw our monstrous electric bill. Stress. Tomorrow is my estranged father’s birthday. More stress. The gash on my back from this morning when I awoke with a full bladder, wasn’t wearing my glasses, trying not to squish two cats and hit my lower back on the protruding air-conditioning unit. Pain. Two false starts.
I almost didn’t do it at all. I started it and got discouraged. I told my wife that I wasn’t going to do it tonight. Then the shame set in. I HAD to finish. For myself. For you, whoever you are.
I did as half-assed a job as I can possibly allow myself to do without hating myself for it. It’s much looser than the other ones. In some ways I really dig it (the vibrancy, the motion), and in other ways I hate it (dammit! I can do better).
But I couldn’t leave you without someone to tie your respective Penelopies to the train tracks (tremolo diminished chords ascending in minor thirds…).

He’s standing on the Buddha for good measure. And his form isn’t so good…


