Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)

Here is our friend trying to ward off the evils of transition writing (not his forte, but the melodies make up for it).. But this wasn't enough for me.  I had to draw yet another doodle that was more explicit.

A more explicit one:

I would run too if a gigantic, screaming, 11-letter word were chasing me. I wonder if he is running to the river(!)

Tchaik recounts his musical/creative formula - whatever works.

Get me back - the Russians are too depressing!