“I’m telling you; if I got my hands on a One-Man-Band I would create some real art.” Ezra rolled his cuffs up. “‘Put Dick van Dyke to shame.” It was difficult to tell if he were serious or joking. Especially when he looked so silly, butt at the beds edge, multi-tasking with modern devices and wires the way he apparently dreamed of juggling a bygone set. His wide left hand swiped and stabbed empty space, exaggerating each point he made, while the right remained occupied on the computer keys.
“Without question. The only concern would be finding one around my size.“ The mic stand had to be adjusted along with the body of his Gibson Les Paul standard electric bass guitar. A classic faded darkburst beauty Ezra picked up a month ago. The opportunity to show her off in town had yet to present itself, but once he was home it was difficult to put her down. He didn’t feel the least bit rude working on a new composition despite having company. Considering Sasha’s relatable passions. “With a One-Man-Band I would have finished this track by now. First take.”