Elvis has a new therapist, his name is Dr. Faber-Castell

A strange thing happened this weekend. Elvis and Emma Lee were stuck in Brooklyn, working at the restaurant, breaking some hearts, bruising some shins, and slogging through a nine-hundred page Michener novel…the usual… when Elvis had a bit of a panic attack. Itshouldn’t have been a big deal: they were just off work, and feeling okay, kinda sleepy and bummed out to be inside all the time, not sure what they were doing with their Saturday night because nine of their top ten were all out of town, either to new residences in other states or the outerbanks or Israel, and a boy that shouldn’t have been a big deal was being a big deal in Emma Lee’s brain, when it hit like a ton of cinderblocks. It was a profound sense of something like devastation; Elvis wrote “devastation” on the wall. That helped a little—much more than talking to assorted well-intentioned girlfriends on the telephone—so they decided to draw a picture about it with their favorite Faber Castells. The results, pictured above, did the trick. Elvis feels so much better.

Thanks you, colored pencils. And a big hat tip to Ed Ruscha.