not sleeping anymore

on going solo

The strings on my guitar are filthy and they’re making me sneeze (at least I hope it’s the strings- or quite possibly I’ve developed an allergy to my guitar). Some sort of greasy dust has attached itself to that spot just above the bridge and below the sound hole. Cleaning it is almost like flossing. I dread it, but it needs to be done, and it’s usually fairly satisfying once you get into it. I’ve got my chin rested in the nape of the body and I’m staring through the action. This is what I’m thinking. I’m thinking about how dirty my guitar is.
That,
and how terrified I’ve been of the damn thing.
6 days ago someone said, “oh yea, you like zeppelin?” to which I replied, “I listen to fool in the rain everyday” to which this person then responded, “oh yea, what album is that off of?”

and I laughed and said:
“how the hell should I know. first name: led, last name: zeppelin. man, that’s what I though until a few years ago, so how the hell should I know. but really, I love fool in the rain.”

defining moment.

I realized just a bit ago, as I was stumbling through the blues scale, just singing about how bad I’ve been… I’ve been missing.
really, I have.
Playing a solo is like proposing what you want, taking it, and actually getting it. I’ve never done that before… instead I’ve been strung out and anxious about sounding bad. You can’t really get what you want when you don’t even know what it is that you want.
or, depending on the song, you can’t always get what you want.
but (at least) you can try sometimes.

posted by d @ 10:28 PM