The Monster

I sit with this pink machine, our motives at a standstill. To sew or not to sew is not the question, the question is how to sew, or more directly how to set up the sewing machine. As I sit and ponder this, the radio hums the tunes of Summertime, one of my favorite jazz pieces, this one on trumpet. I have a copy of Summertime on guitar by Doc Watson which is fantastic. I spent some time yesterday trying to figure it out, which makes this experience somewhat prophetic in nature. The fire is crackling in the stove but my hands are still cold. But I digress, back to the machine. One might well ask why a large twenty something male is trying to motive such a small pink machine into any kind of productivity, that question can be left aside for now as long as we accept that I feel the need to create, and currently that creation wants to find its true form under the needle. Now that that is settled to the machine itself. They are very complicated to the untrained eye, I have seen them in use before and been the unlearned operator of a properly adjusted machine on just one other occasion. So here I sit, with a distinctly pink contraption full of springs and strings trying to make end from end.