I did an illustration yesterday and part of today for an article about blues musicians, including but not limited to Robert Johnson, who allegedly sold his soul to Satan for the ability to play anything he wanted on the guitar, before being poisoned in 1938, at the age of 27.
No other things to write about today, although I did do a double-take yesterday because I thought I saw the Guy Who Threatened to Kill Me For No Reason Outside of the Mirage in Las Vegas at the gas station, out of the corner of my eye. Thankfully, it wasn't him, but now I'm more worried about the psychological impact of that encounter (see previous entry).
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