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I miss my guitar. She is at home in the black hardshell case leaned up against the wall scratching the paint. She is a she, her name is Caramelo. Archtop darling.
So yeah, I really miss my guitar. I want to strum barum pick! bass and slam syncopation in perfect chords to my words, get down that reggae rhythm and just be able to feel my fingertips pressing down above the frets. Maybe I'll bring it back up after break.
Except whenever I play I get sad, cos I'm not really playing, I'm trying to play. I'm flailing. Honestly, I'm failing. I used to take lessons and I would practice sometimes. Then I stopped taking lessons and I stopped practicing, and because I stopped practicing I sounded worse, and cos I sounded like such shite I didn't want to practice...You can see where this is going. But I'm so grateful to have this guitar, body like ropes of ribbons of burnt sugar caramel and pale wood, shiny metal fingerprinted and neck held with such good posture, that I want to do it justice. I wanna start playing again. I mean, I don't want to be great at it or anything. I know some people have a knack for it and others don't, and I'm one of the others and that's fine. (So I can write poetry instead of play guitar, okay. You cain't always git what ya want.) I just wanna be able to play some Wailers, or pick out some Ferrick tunes, yknow?
Cos my stomach wants that smooth stretch of wood pressed laquer up against it, the slope of its semihollow body cupping mine as I bend over. Cos my fingers want to move easily over thick strings and not feel them too loose underneath. I just want to play, but it makes me hate myself when I pick it up. I get all inspired to play by the yearning in my hands and then I take it out of the case and the musical livation turns to frustration and disgust. It's really lame. It makes me feel lame.
But goddammit I miss my guitar.
"...And what if every time you tried, someone tried better than you?
What if every day has a refrain like 'what am I supposed to do?'
Or 'how shall I live?' or 'what shall I improve?'"
So yeah, I really miss my guitar. I want to strum barum pick! bass and slam syncopation in perfect chords to my words, get down that reggae rhythm and just be able to feel my fingertips pressing down above the frets. Maybe I'll bring it back up after break.
Except whenever I play I get sad, cos I'm not really playing, I'm trying to play. I'm flailing. Honestly, I'm failing. I used to take lessons and I would practice sometimes. Then I stopped taking lessons and I stopped practicing, and because I stopped practicing I sounded worse, and cos I sounded like such shite I didn't want to practice...You can see where this is going. But I'm so grateful to have this guitar, body like ropes of ribbons of burnt sugar caramel and pale wood, shiny metal fingerprinted and neck held with such good posture, that I want to do it justice. I wanna start playing again. I mean, I don't want to be great at it or anything. I know some people have a knack for it and others don't, and I'm one of the others and that's fine. (So I can write poetry instead of play guitar, okay. You cain't always git what ya want.) I just wanna be able to play some Wailers, or pick out some Ferrick tunes, yknow?
Cos my stomach wants that smooth stretch of wood pressed laquer up against it, the slope of its semihollow body cupping mine as I bend over. Cos my fingers want to move easily over thick strings and not feel them too loose underneath. I just want to play, but it makes me hate myself when I pick it up. I get all inspired to play by the yearning in my hands and then I take it out of the case and the musical livation turns to frustration and disgust. It's really lame. It makes me feel lame.
But goddammit I miss my guitar.
"...And what if every time you tried, someone tried better than you?
What if every day has a refrain like 'what am I supposed to do?'
Or 'how shall I live?' or 'what shall I improve?'"
