Thought You Might Like to Know....

For clarity, if such a thing exists in my universe, I advise you press "play" and then read.




I've been looking to try out a little parlor guitar with nylon strings. My guitar is very nice and I like it, but I find that I want to capo it at the third fret for everything. I think it's because at that fret my fingers are closer together, and the strings have more tension and they don't get all buzzy.

I went down to Pick n' Grin last Tuesday and found that it was closed. I like Pik n' Grin because it just seems to be staffed with friendly people who like to play instruments. How simple. Suddenly there was a little knot in my stomach. My other choices in my area were Rik's (ugh, as lame as it sounds), and the Guitar Center. You see, I'm a girl. There's not a lot to swing around down there, and that's what you get into at these places. A bunch of guys playing How Big's Your Johnson, and not a lot actually playing music. Humility is a rare thing among those who call themselves musicians, almost as rare as talent. Just 5 minutes in one of those places and you'll hear some punk blasting out the sounds of a cat passing slowly through an undustrial shredder amplified to 11. He's usually got a little entourage of slack jawed mouthbreathers, dreaming of parties and groupies, who think he's Jesus H. Clapton, and want to be sure to stick around for when he hits it big.

A funny thought...there's a lot of young fellers out there who seek to meet chicks by hanging out in places that are full of dudes, doing things for the approval of other dudes, playing songs that, in general, are mainly loved by dudes. What they don't know is that while they are all congregated doing their dude-stuff, all the girls are congregated somewhere else, usually in the company of some guy who's figured it out.

But I digress.

(Don't you think that would be good engraved on my tombstone? I'll live forever though, cause I'll be dying, then I'll forget what I was doing, and get up from the hospital bed and walk out in the hall and go "I know I went in there for something," and if there's no nurse to remind me that I'm supposed to be dying, I'll just go on forever. Kind of like this post.)

Anyway, I hope in 400 hundred years when I'm a blind old bald man who forgot to die, I will be able to play for my friends at least one joyful little arpeggio as beautifully as Andres Segovia did.

....and now you know.