The Graduate

So, here I am at 22 years old, a fresh product of the California education system equipped with the skills to record and engineer music. Fat lot of good that's gonna do me. Turns out that the world doesn't care about the piece of paper I hold in my hand that certifies my well-rounded education. Apparently I gotta prove myself before I can hang in the big recording studios. It's bedrooms and garages for me, rigged up to record some starry-eyed loser who thinks he's got the next big hit. Luckily, I found a loser with a little talent -- great piece of Internet technology this Craigslist. His name is Jimbo, and he goes by the stage name "hired gun." The guy is ancient; looks like a wrinkled old hick more suited for a tractor than a guitar. But I gotta admit the man can play. He's got some experience too. Turns out he used to tour sometime before the dinosaurs became extinct. He needs me to record a demo for him. I said I would because I figure it's better than nothing. He's coming in this weekend. I'm hoping that he doesn't try and take over. He seems a bit overbearing drawing from the conversations we've had over the phone. But work is work, and right now work is scarce, so I gotta take what I can get. We'll see how the whole thing turns out.