For Bryan
This piece right here?
It’s called “For Bryan”, and like most of the best things in life, he didn’t start out with a name or a plan. He just kinda... showed up.
Last summer I was sittin’ in a sunbaked parking lot over on Ocean Isle Beach, sweatin’ through my summer side hustle, killin’ time between when school lets out and when it drags itself back in. Just me, a pen, a humidity-soaked sketch pad, and this old blues cat who crawled right outta the ink like he’d been sittin’ in the back of my brain waitin’ for the door to open.
And lemme tell you—this guy? He didn’t want to stay black and white.
He wanted color.
He wanted grit and stage lights.
He wanted to hum.
To that, I said… Lemme call you back... And I set him on a shelf for about six months and forgot to call him back. Hey, I’m a grown-up. It happens.
Now, here’s where it gets personal.
The real story behind this piece goes back to 1998—me and my best friend Bryan, fresh outta college, broke as a busted lawnmower, no cable, no internet worth a damn, no clue what came next.
What we did have was a big ol heavy TV with rabbit ears, a couple of worn-out guitars, and all the time in the world to figure it out. Our entertainment was Jerry Springer reruns, lukewarm ramen, and prank calls to ambulance-chaser lawyers advertising during Judge Judy.
Now, I can play guitar—in the loosest, most generous sense of the word. I can throw a few chords around, make it sound like I mean it. But Bryan? He stuck with it. Got good. Real good. Not flashy TikTok-good. Not guitar-face-in-the-coffee-shop good. I’m talkin’ the real-deal, slow-hand, let-the-notes-breathe kinda blues. Plays like the ghosts of Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters are sittin’ on his shoulders.
He don’t brag. He don’t need to.
And that? That’s cool as hell.
So when I sent him a pic of the original sketch over the summer, just shootin’ the breeze, he messaged back:
“Dude. That’s badass.”
And that stuck with me.
So a week ago, I pulled that dusty sketch back out, heard it whisperin’, “Let me out,” and I went to work.
This piece right here?
It’s called “For Bryan”, and like most of the best things in life, he didn’t start out with a name or a plan. He just kinda... showed up.
Last summer I was sittin’ in a sunbaked parking lot over on Ocean Isle Beach, sweatin’ through my summer side hustle, killin’ time between when school lets out and when it drags itself back in. Just me, a pen, a humidity-soaked sketch pad, and this old blues cat who crawled right outta the ink like he’d been sittin’ in the back of my brain waitin’ for the door to open.
And lemme tell you—this guy? He didn’t want to stay black and white.
He wanted color.
He wanted grit and stage lights.
He wanted to hum.
To that, I said… Lemme call you back... And I set him on a shelf for about six months and forgot to call him back. Hey, I’m a grown-up. It happens.
Now, here’s where it gets personal.
The real story behind this piece goes back to 1998—me and my best friend Bryan, fresh outta college, broke as a busted lawnmower, no cable, no internet worth a damn, no clue what came next.
What we did have was a big ol heavy TV with rabbit ears, a couple of worn-out guitars, and all the time in the world to figure it out. Our entertainment was Jerry Springer reruns, lukewarm ramen, and prank calls to ambulance-chaser lawyers advertising during Judge Judy.
Now, I can play guitar—in the loosest, most generous sense of the word. I can throw a few chords around, make it sound like I mean it. But Bryan? He stuck with it. Got good. Real good. Not flashy TikTok-good. Not guitar-face-in-the-coffee-shop good. I’m talkin’ the real-deal, slow-hand, let-the-notes-breathe kinda blues. Plays like the ghosts of Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters are sittin’ on his shoulders.
He don’t brag. He don’t need to.
And that? That’s cool as hell.
So when I sent him a pic of the original sketch over the summer, just shootin’ the breeze, he messaged back:
“Dude. That’s badass.”
And that stuck with me.
So a week ago, I pulled that dusty sketch back out, heard it whisperin’, “Let me out,” and I went to work.
This piece right here?
It’s called “For Bryan”, and like most of the best things in life, he didn’t start out with a name or a plan. He just kinda... showed up.
Last summer I was sittin’ in a sunbaked parking lot over on Ocean Isle Beach, sweatin’ through my summer side hustle, killin’ time between when school lets out and when it drags itself back in. Just me, a pen, a humidity-soaked sketch pad, and this old blues cat who crawled right outta the ink like he’d been sittin’ in the back of my brain waitin’ for the door to open.
And lemme tell you—this guy? He didn’t want to stay black and white.
He wanted color.
He wanted grit and stage lights.
He wanted to hum.
To that, I said… Lemme call you back... And I set him on a shelf for about six months and forgot to call him back. Hey, I’m a grown-up. It happens.
Now, here’s where it gets personal.
The real story behind this piece goes back to 1998—me and my best friend Bryan, fresh outta college, broke as a busted lawnmower, no cable, no internet worth a damn, no clue what came next.
What we did have was a big ol heavy TV with rabbit ears, a couple of worn-out guitars, and all the time in the world to figure it out. Our entertainment was Jerry Springer reruns, lukewarm ramen, and prank calls to ambulance-chaser lawyers advertising during Judge Judy.
Now, I can play guitar—in the loosest, most generous sense of the word. I can throw a few chords around, make it sound like I mean it. But Bryan? He stuck with it. Got good. Real good. Not flashy TikTok-good. Not guitar-face-in-the-coffee-shop good. I’m talkin’ the real-deal, slow-hand, let-the-notes-breathe kinda blues. Plays like the ghosts of Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters are sittin’ on his shoulders.
He don’t brag. He don’t need to.
And that? That’s cool as hell.
So when I sent him a pic of the original sketch over the summer, just shootin’ the breeze, he messaged back:
“Dude. That’s badass.”
And that stuck with me.
So a week ago, I pulled that dusty sketch back out, heard it whisperin’, “Let me out,” and I went to work.
