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…).
