|
It's January 3rd, 2024 and I'm listening to the blues. It's a music that speaks to me - an aggressive, passionate wail that in my heart I understand as a direct predecessor of the grunge music that first spoke to me as a teenager. You can HEAR the contact of the instrument to the skin, and that's a huge part of my joy of guitar. The sheer physicality of it all. Fingers on fretboard and nails on phosphor bronze, flaking and bending and doing what feels right to get the emotion across.
I dreamt that I was at a folk conference and I was trying to laundry after we'd done a showcase... (never do laundry at a folk conference) and I was wandering the crowded halls getting little smatterings of compliments and advice and cards but all I wanted was a place to do laundry. A really pretty woman catches me for a sec to tell me "you know, it wouldn't have been that hard-".
"What?"
"You know, it just wouldn't have taken that much effort to learn how to do it right. You know, to learn how to play?"
"Oh. Right."
I went about my business looking for the laundry machines and thinking about things I could've said and wake up feeling vaguely lost and even more aggressively self-satisfied that I play the way that I play.
Still lost tho. |
