Open Mic Night

I took this picture of a good friend of mine playing at a local pub. I couldn't resist but to draw the image in charcoal.

Photography and jumbled thoughts

This town is sucking me in. I love it. I haven't been able to sit down and do as much art as I want, but I've been thinking about setting up my easel in my room to paint. It's a medium I've never been great at, and I could use the challenge.

I'm still inspired, everything around me warms that need for beauty in life. I still wish my life were a musical, but that's such a silly desire. So instead, I sit and listen to Moby's "Alone." Something about the ambient melody repeating for 10 minutes, with no words, is soothing to my jumbled brain. Maybe it's a serenity I can pretend to have...

The best music to me is what my friends play. I have a few friends who are local musicians, and a few more that are still budding. This night, a close friend tried his hand on stage, and rocked it. It was more about overcoming his nervous ways, and knowing that his love for the music was way more important than what everyone else thought. I was irritated a bit though, because this friend looked looked to another companion of ours for inspiration, guidance, and courage. All said companion had to comment about this show was "nice guitar." Only because it was his.