Luca knocked lightly on the open office door of Professor Rathais, a smile curving her lips as she entered the room when he looked up at her. “Well, class was interesting today,” she said, referring to the fight that broke out between two jocks within the first five minutes of the first class of the semester. The fall semester had come and gone quite quickly. It had been a whirlwind of classes and of Luca orientating herself to her current home. She’d been Professor Rathais’ TA all last semester, an occupation she took quite a bit of pleasure in since she did get to pick the professor’s brain from time to time. She’d come to appreciate his knowledge even more than she already had as well as his wit and personality. As much as she wish she could have a crush on him, seeing as he was a perfect specimen of the male form in every which way, she just found the idea… impossible. Some how, he just wasn’t her type.
“I just came by to pick up the roll and any filing for today’s classes,” she continued with a smile.
It is perfectly clear that the goal for all art–unless of course it is aimed at the “consumer,” like a saleable commodity–is to explain to the artist himself and to those around him what man lives for, what is the meaning of his existence. To explain to people the reason for their appearance on this planet; or if not to explain, at least to pose the question.
Let me tell you cats a story: One morning I woke up and saw this ring-a-ding note from this ring-a-ding broad about what a cool cat she thought I was. And I said to myself, well, look at that, you’ve got fans.
But this pussycat doesn’t do anything halfway. No, she goes and draws my old girl Dolly, not once, but twice. She even says she wants to mention her in her fic with Ean.
So I stuck my nose in her blog and I thought, say, Ean’s a swingin’ character. And for all this dame’s done for me, I oughtta give back.