Tuesdays and Holy Jank
Today, I played good music. I can finally say that. I can say I am playing with people and am surrounded by many artists, like me. I wish a younger me was still around. I’d see the glow on her face when I tell her that I’ve finally learned barre chords and how to strum while singing.
I haul a guitar and an amp on my person, both 1.5 hours to and from ███████ on the bus. I don’t mind it. Not heavy, more tedious than anything. But I should be more careful. Something’s wrong with the innards and I can’t risk damaging the body too. Bastard who sold it to me didn’t tell me that.
Today I saw a man on the ride home. His limbs were absurd, his long arms made his hands passed his knees. He plopped onto the seat opposite to me. He danced sporadically, sticking his tongue out, making the rock and roll hand with his left and his right curled around musical device. It had LONG antenna on top of it. Guess a radio? That’s cool. I though it was a cassette player at first but then the antenna wouldn’t make sense. I’ve never seen anything that looked like it before.
He was singing out loud. I didn’t recognize the first song but he went all out for Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. He kept looking to the back of the bus. I hummed along quietly. But once he got off (ironically, sung the chorus while he pulled the cord) the people he looked at earlier started to clap and laugh. Clapping is good but the laughing was mean.
A weird, long man and his weird long radio antenna.
I got home and set up my early Christmas present. My sister got me a mic stand. I somehow fucked up. I hurt my thumb. I took a solid 20 minutes trying to work out how the adjustment’s supposed to be. Look at this. This is not right.
You have a crack at it, wise guy!
But I guess it’s not your first set-up if it’s not held together by glue and toothpicks. And I guess it’s not the set-up that determines the quality of you art.
I can now pump out recordings, finally.