Its late and the street is dark and empty. I can hear the screaming guitar solo when I open the car door. Inside it is smoky, in spite of the no-smoking law. The band is wailing through the final chorus of Purple Haze so loud that your teeth vibrate. Lips move but no sound comes out. My turn. I step over cords and amps and squeeze behind the drums on the tiny stage. We launch into a twelve-bar blues. The bass player smiles at me through the fog. Lights glitter off the cymbals and my mind drifts back to 1971, playing country music in a bar in Steamboat Springs, ducking beer bottles and generally trying to keep out of the usual Saturday night cowboy fight. Tim launches into another solo as the crowd cheers. I am content. Medium: Sanford Uniball Micro pen, Holbein watercolors. M Type: 3.5 x 5.5 sketchbook (travels with me everywhere!) - Joseph Stoddard