I hadn't even gotten off my bike when a guy with long stringy hair, an unkept beard and the start of beer belly that will probably never leave walked up to me and with a frown that turned into a shit eating grin said, "Gandalf is broken, oh wait, your not a cop are you?" He holds out a long multi-coloured glass pipe with a cracked tip.
School is great. It doesn't seem right to call this school. There is nobody here who is doing it because it's what their parents want them to be doing. Unlike other schools I've been to, nobody is trying to impress anybody. There is very little ego involved from either student or teacher. We're basically all geeks.
I've been in class for two days and so far, I've drawn the plans for my guitar and glued the top and back plates together. It's modeled after a classic guitar called the Martin D-28 - a dreadnought style acoustic steel string.
Here are my drawrings....
Here is the top plate being braced, clamped and glued...(I promise not to geek out too much on the technical stuff, but at least I know my dad will enjoy reading about it.)
My room is next to the owner of Gandalf (Adam), a schizophrenic twenty something from Long Island, New York. He doesn't seem to show up to the school until after lunch. He told me today that he likes to get 12 hours of sleep because he wants to see what it feels like to be retired. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to retire.
Like the hotel in Revelstoke, there is no art in my suit, so last night Adam and I made some. His are the ones in blue ink. In his suit, he made a six foot high exploded diagram of a solar water purifyer / power generator scrawled on taped together ruled loose leaf paper.
Here's the view from my room. Sucks to be you....