The gimped left hand presses awkwardly against thin lines of steel, pushing with misguided might on the wood neck in an attempt to produce some kind of chord that doesn't sound like the woeful death of the tinman. Craping, arching weirdly, contorting, this atrophy digit collection makes me feel weak, insecure, desperate and slow.
My writings suck sometimes, I can't find the art in me on occasion, my mixes don't flow...but man, learning to play the guitar is hard work and I have a long, loooooooong way to go before I can even produce notes that are real.
Maybe I attempted something harder than I'm cable of overcoming. My left arm hurts, my fingers smart, my pride exclaims "ouch".
2 comments:
Long time...
i've read several of your pieces in the past few months as a way of attempting to figure out what your life has brought you. i tend to look at them as a means to escape into random visuals, curiousities of the life of a long lost friend, and a vanishing chaos.
glad to hear that you are learning to play the guitar. i picked up the banjo about 4 months ago and can completely relate to "ouch".
don't be a stranger.
audjo99@yahoo.com
aud
Thanks Aud, oh how I miss your input in my life.
I appreciate you checkin' in and hope you've seen a bunch.
It is best to start this blog from the beginning and work forward, if ya didn't already know that.
Also, sometimes these weird prose-type pieces are meant to be spoken aloud for impact. You'll be surprised at the difference it makes.
I write some things for sound, not words.
Thanks my true, olden friend Audreary!
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