Utils in Bat Country

A high, flying day

Back a few months ago, Ally posted on twitter about going to NYC for a few days and since I'm more local now, I jumped at the chance to see a show and hang out. I was able to grab the 8:30am bus from by my aunt and uncles house which put me in the city a little after 10am.  Met up with Ally at the corner of 47th and 9th (so city!) and we went off to a yummy bistro for lunch.  I treated myself to a delicious bowl of cafe au lait and it was truly a bowl of caffeinated deliciousness.

After a meal full of chatty goodness, we wandered the streets up to Central Park, cut over by the Plaza and started making our way back down 5th towards the theater.  And we stumbled upon a travesty.  Lines - barricaded, winding lines - to get into Abercrombie and Hollister.  Were there lines to get into the Plaza or FAO Schwartz?  Nope. THIS IS TERRIBLE. All the problems in the world are suddenly clear (especially seeing as how both those stores are in nearly every suburban mall and if you just went there in your hometown or stood in line and bought the same thing on your phone, you'd save city sales tax).  

After bemoaning the sad state of retail and casting lingering glances towards the Zara window, we made it to the theater and settled in for Evita.  I hadn't seen the show before and just had a passing familiarity with the songs from various broadway cds so I wasn't sure what to expect and I was enthralled.  Stellar performances, fantastic music, and Ricky Martin?  I give you the slow clap of impressiveness.  Nicely done, sir. 

After the show was over, we sadly had to split up and I wandered around the streets for awhile before heading back to Port Authority.  I found an Italian espresso shop and grabbed a after show snack.

Great weather, great food, great music, and truly delightful company.  

Thank you Ally - I had a ball!!

 

Beer Drinkers, Hell Raisers, and Big Clocks

Here’s what I thought I knew about ZZ Top prior to today:

1. They’ve all got crazy beards.
2. There was a song in Dazed and Confused.
3. 1970s rock ‘n roll.
4. “Legs," and only because there was a video for it from the 80s that I remember seeing on MTV.

And that’s about it. I won’t lie, I’m just not that familiar. I mean, I can usually pick them out on the radio if a classic rock station plays “La Grange”. But otherwise…not a band I’ve been listening to.

They come in at 498 on the RS top 500 I’ve been working through. And I’m listening to Tres Hombres right now.

This is essential guitar rock at some of its best. Tingled with the blues, ZZ Top is everything a lot of 70s rock bands aspired to. The songs are simple in construction (bass, rhythm guitar, lead guitar, drums), the lyrics are uncomplicated (Have mercy/been waiting for the bus all day/ have my brown paper bag/and my take home pay), and the songs are damn catchy. The challenge the ear only because as singers, the guys from ZZ Top are not refined or pretty. But that’s not what would sound right in music like this, and surprisingly their ability to harmonize is really amazing.

But “La Grange” is probably the best song on there…Color me surprised that ZZ Top could pull off a ballad, though. “Hot, Blue, and Righteous” deserves another listen.

Tres Hombres
ZZ Top
Warner Brothers Records
1973

 

 

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Yo! Bum Rush the Show
Public Enemy
Def Jam Records
1987

Here’s what you know about Public Enemy if you’re white (I’m painting with a broad broad brush here, so forgive me some hyperbole): Chuck D is angry and black and Flava Flav is the guy with the big clocks around his neck.

Now, according to the little bit of research I did, Yo! Bum Rush the Show is rated among one of the most important hip-hop/rap albums of all time.

I am willing to admit this is the first time I’ve listened to the album. I am familiar with some of Public Enemy’s later oeuvre, but I somehow missed this record back in the day. Some of it sounds like what we assume mid- to late-1980s hip hop sounds like. And of course it does, it was the basis for all those other bands/groups/artists. Scratching, sampling, and rapping about cars and guns. Hells to the yes.

In some ways, the whole album sounds so…innocent. It’s certainly got political overtones, and some American-life-is-unfair-for-African-Americans, but nothing like later Public Enemy work. I don’t know if you can find the F-bomb on the whole LP more than a handful of times, which either indicates Chuck D was above using it unnecessarily (a skill I think my own parents wish I had), or the record industry wasn’t quite ready for its use. The cover does boast the PARENTAL WARNING sticker, and but this is nothing like Eminem.

At the same time, some of the album is a little irritating. The sampling is high in the mix in places where it could be lower, some of the beats are off just a little bit, which sets my teeth on edge, and the overuse of effects on the vocals can be distracting. I’d love to hear how the whole thing would be mixed in the studio today. However, it’s that raw sound and the implicit acknowledgement of production methods that makes it honest.

My take on the whole thing: I understand why it’s rated so highly by everyone. It’s only in the last few years that I’ve started to listen to any amount of hip hop other than the cheese that was on the radio during middle and high school, but I’ve got that whole history thing kicking, so I can get behind it. But I don’t know that it’s an album I want to listen to often. It Takes a Nation of Millions, which I am almost positive shows up later on the list, is by far a better album to my ears.

 

 

For those who don’t know, I’m slowly working through all 500 records on Rolling Stone’s greatest records of all time list.

 

Tres Hombres is number 498 and Yo! Bum Rush the Show is 497.

500 and 499

Of Rolling Stone magazine’s 500 greatest albums of all time, there are is rather large number I’ve never heard from beginning to end. In fact, there are albums listed that I’ve never heard a single song from, let alone the whole record. And so, in an effort to make myself a more rounded individual, musically speaking, I’ve set out to listen to all 500 records. For some this will be a simple task, as they are albums I’m intimate with already. I know the majority of the Beatle’s catalog as though they were songs I wrote. Any grunge from the 90s and I can more than likely sing along with every song. And the same is true of a lot of 60s stuff. But perhaps not as much as I thought.

I recently made it through the first two albums listed. That is, numbers 500 and 499. I had never heard either all the way through, although I did know songs from both.

Number 500 is Touch by the Eurythmics. It was released in 1983, and was I believe their third album. Although I could be making that up. If not, it was their second. It’s most famous for “Here Comes the Rain Again” and predictably that’s the song I knew. I readily admit an ignorance about the Eurythmics, outside of the fact that Annie Lennox was hot and “Sweet Dreams” is a great song.

Touch is kind of great. It’s early electronic, and there are a couple of cheesy moments when you can just smell the 1980s wafting off the songs. But lyrically its captivating, and even during the cheese the music is solid and catchy. Not in a bad-catchy way, but in the trap you and make you want more kind of way.

“Rain” still maintains a place in my heart. But I’ve fallen in love with a couple other songs now, too. “No Fear, No Hate, No Pain (No Broken Hearts)” is a really stellar piece of work, even though I’m not usually drawn to songs with an overabundance of effects on vocals. And “Paint a Rumour” is one of the best, even though it’s the longest song on the album.

Album 499 is Albert King’s 1967 Born Under a Bad Sign. This is supposed to be the album that changed the blues in the 1960s, and perhaps if I knew more about the history of the blues, I’d feel the same way. But really it sounds like a pretty typical blues record to me. HOWEVER! I suppose that’s because everything after is was modeled on it, right? So of course things song familiar.

King was backed by Booker T and the MGs in the studio (if I’m getting that correct from what I read about it). Thus, the instrumentalization is beyond perfect. In fact, in some ways I think the album sounds too clean. My brain wants the blues to be dirty and not perfect. King’s voice gets there, but the guitar is too pure sounding, and the horns are just too high in the mix for my liking.

That said, it’s the quintessential recording on “Born Under a Bad Sign” and King’s rendition of “The Very Thought of You” at the end of the record is well worth the rest of it.

Clearly I’m going to have to give it another couple of listens to make sure there isn’t something basic I’m missing. And I’m not arguing it’s placement on the list. But it’s not doing for me what it seems to have done for any number of critics and musicians who made up the list.

So that’s the first two I’ve gotten through. And I’m happy that I did. This should be an interesting process.

It's almost the middle of January already?!

I feel like I've been missing from the blog forever. And then, looking at it, I kind of have been. Golly.

Xmas was good, New Years was good, let's move on from there, shall we?

I have two things to talk about today. One is very short and deals with how awesome my mother is. The other is a little more involved. But not much, because I have a pile of other things I need to be doing, not the least of which is showering and going to work tonight.

Over xmas, I met The Guy's family. He has a small family, consisting of himself, his parents who are aging, his brother-in-law, his niece and nephew, and his brother-in-law's new partner (and her kids, and her mom, and the BIL's mom, but you get the drift). (Yeah, that sounds weird, doesn't it? The Guy's sister died a few years ago, after a rather prolonged fight with cancer. But the BIL is still close with the family, in no small part because of the kids.) There's a boy and a girl, both preteens. On Xmas eve, they had a book they were looking through called something like "The 500 Most Amazing Rock Bands EVAH!" And it was complete and utter shite. Like, bad bad bad. Linkin Park? Seriously? No real music critic would put them  anywhere close to the top 500 of anything.

I started thinking that, because I have some musical history knowledge, and access to a WIDE variety of tunes, I would 'throw together' something for the kids based on a much better top 500 list. Thus, last week, I dug through the interwebs and found Rolling Stone magazine's top 500 albums of all time. So yes, less than 500 bands, artists, whatever, but with a far wider range of musical types and eras and NO FUCKING LINKIN PARK. (I would insert a disclaimer here, apologizing to Linkin Park fans, of which there are many. But I refuse to do so based on the fact that I firmly believe that, in this musical decision, these people are wrong wrong WRONG.)

Of course, nothing can be simple or easy for me, so I also decided that I would cull said list into a 500-song compilation for the kids, picking one song off each album.

[Can I just throw something else in here? Complete aside really. Because the kids are, I think, 11 and 12, I'm trying VERY hard to not include songs with "inappropriate" language. Thus, the F-bomb is right out. And for the most part, I can do this. Songs with sexual innuendo are OK with me, so long as it's just that, innuendo. And if the songs are 30 years old or more, that's pretty simple. But there's some modern stuff on the list. There's some Rage Against the Machine. OK, I can find a song without the F-bomb in there. But there's some rap. Have you ever listened to a rap album and paid attention to the language the first time through? Jay Z's The Blueprint for example? And tried to find a song with the fewest possible occurances of 1) the F-bomb, 2) the N word, 3) the rest of the really bad stuff? Because wow is that hard to do. I had to find a radio edit of a Biggie Smalls song to cut out the bad stuff (thanks, Jock Jams for censoring your music!) And I fear that the Outkast album listed, as well as perhaps the WuTang stuff might just have to live a life outside of this compilation. I'm not a fan of censoring music, and if they were my kids there would be a conversation and then the music would be available. But they're not my kids, and I DO want them to be able to listen to what I send them. But it's a pain in the ass, really.]

And surprisingly, I have the vast majority of the albums already on itunes.

My shame, however, is that there are some I've never listened to all the way through. It's the pain of digital music. You can get a lot of it, and then just ignore it. It's not like the black vinyl circle staring at you, daring you NOT to drop the needle. Instead, it's just more ones and zeros hiding on your computer.

And so, in an effort to make myself even more knowledgable about the history of twentieth and twenty-first century music, I am going to listen to every single album on the list.

In doing so, I've started with the Eurythmic's Touch. It dropped in 1983, and I can safely say I've never made it past "Here Comes the Rain Again." And in just the first few songs, I am reminded that the radio hits from an album can hardly be considered the best songs.

So, there's my new project for the new year. Since I didn't get through the Jane Austen reading fest as quickly as I had hoped (I forgot that the act of taking college classes kills my desire to read books), this may or may not fall off my radar as well. But listening is a lot less time consuming than reading. And who knows? If I get excited enough about albums, perhaps I'll throw something up here about them.

 

As for my mom, she's awesome for a number of reasons. But the following conversation was had by the two of us on the phone this weekend.

*At lunch with the guy...

Me: Hold on, I'll call my folks and ask.

*Ringing*

Mom: Hello.

Me: Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and what's the other one?

Mom: The Searchers.

Me: Right. Thanks.

Mom: OK. Bye.

Me: Bye!

And that was it.

And I'm so glad I did that, instead of just checking the internet on my phone. So much more rewarding.

 

Yes, you're right world, these three movies do not go together as a trilogy. The point is that she knew what I was talking about. But, if you're a purist, go find Rio Grande instead of The Searchers, and you'll be all set.

Up and Down

No real update on the boy. I wrote him and asked if he got the bars, he wrote back said he did and they were delicious, then I had some sort of fit and went (for me) bold and asked him over to dinner for spaghetti and meatballs (sometime in the next couple of weeks if he's free b/c I'm making them since it's cold and the recipe makes a lot and and and..whatever else I could throw in to vague it up so as not to be quite so blatant about asking a boy out omg).  Waiting to hear back.

Was dragging this morning and got all excited when I remembered that it's 11/1 and one of the radio stations hear begins playing Christmas music.  Get in the car to drive to work and it's freaking Kedollarsignha whatever her name is. Stabby hate. They have deigned to play Christmas music online so am listening to that at least. underneath the Christmas tree... you are the angel atop my tree, you are my dreeeeam come truuuuue

Went with M&K yesterday to finish up our Treasure Hunt and actually found the final clue. Yay self!  Now we just have to wait and see if we win.

Got sort of dolled up in a fall ensemble today, got to work and realized that my tissue tee has some small teeth holes in it that the c of the sweater doesn't quite cover.  But! Even though am flashing the office I don't think the holes will be visible w/ the camera so submission for Anthro reader outfits is set.

Had Food Network on most of the day yesterday and saw Giada make a grilled pork/fontina sammich and decided that was a fine dinner idea. Trucked out to the grocery store to get a pork chop (only $2.12!) but by the time I checked out was up to $60.  And sammich was just ok in my opinion.  Determined to try the cauliflower soup recipe I found but it looks like it makes a ton and calls for truffle oil and cauliflower is ridiculously expensive so that may be a post Christmas dinner.

Am going to have to finally get myself a copy of Bruce Springsteen's Santa Claus is coming to town because every time I hear it, it makes me smile. Especially the part where he starts to laugh towards the end.  Love it.

Sniff

For whatever reason, music has always been able to play (heh) me emotionally.  First time I heard 'The Christmas Shoes' - tears. (Although now I mock and laugh at the Rob Lowe/Kimberly Williams movie so that particular song has lost its emotional wallop)  Listening to the Pearl Harbor soundtrack - tears. Baby Mine from Dumbo - tears.  I don't really like giving into emotion but music is usually what I need to knock me over the edge.  Feeling woebegone about being home/not being home/not looking like a Martha Stewart cover for the holidays?  Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas comes on the radio and I have to pull over due to the snuffling.  Michael W. Smith's most recent Christmas CD has a couple songs that tug at my tear ducts if I listen to it in March (Christmas Day and All Year Long). 

I've been listening to the Modern Broadway radio station at work and occasionally a song from Miss Saigon will come on.  I have a particular soft spot for Miss Saigon as it was the first Broadway show I ever saw, when I was 13.  I used to have the highlights cassette (oh, lord) and after hearing some of the songs again decided to spend $5 on Ebay for the full 2 CD soundtrack.  Brought it with me in the car for the Hbg drive and started listening to it on the way back and man, I forgot how freaking depressing it is.  I was scoffing throughout the whole first disc - you're the sun! you're the moon! I hadn't actually breathed till I saw you!  And then was sniffly the whole second disc.  The wife! The kid! The gun! Over a week later and am STILL depressed when I think on it.

Jingle Bells to the rescue!

Day 13- Angry Song

A song that I listen to when I'm angry. I've been thinking about this one, because it seems to matter what kind of angry I am. I mean, are we talking heartbroken over a guy angry? Or pissed off because someone hit my car? (Which, now that you mention it, happened a secondfucking time, when my car was parked in front of my house. So now I have a bashed in door and a big scrape across the back bumper...and this is why I can't have nice things.)

I've now pondered this song choice for quite some time. What about songs I play when I'm angry in an attempt to make myself happy again? Or are we talking pure, unadulterated angry music? And why on earth have I put so much fucking thought into this? Seriously?

And so, I give you my angry song.

I have forever been grateful that I wasn't getting tattoos in high school. Because I can only imagine the number of Nine Inch Nails pieces I would have gotten, like an asshat.

Although, the idea of getting something now, perhaps a lyric, isn't a horrific idea to me. Not on my short list of Tattoos to Get, but I'll be pondering it.

Also, the live version of the song gets a little mellower in the middle than the album version. But like hell was I searching for 20 years on youtube for another version.

Oh, and if you listen to the song, you can hear some guys yelling the lyrics near the end. Right. Only a few of my friends have ever been unlucky enough to see me at a NIN concert...but seriously. Whatever those guys look like when they're screaming along? I look ten times worse, pissed off as hell, and am flailing around like a banshee. It's perhaps a good thing they're not touring anymore, because I was going to hurt myself or someone else at a NIN concert someday. Or both.

Also. My love for Trent Reznor is never ending, even if he did just get married to some gorgeous model. Some day he will see the error of his ways and come for me.

I drag you down, I use you up.

Day 01 - Your favorite song
Day 02 - A song that makes you happy
Day 03 - A song that makes you sad
Day 04 - A song that reminds you of someone
Day 05 - A song that reminds of you of somewhere
Day 06 - A song that reminds you of a certain event
Day 07 - A song that you can dance to
Day 08 - A song that makes you fall asleep
Day 09 - A song from your favorite band
Day 10 - A song that no one would expect you to love
Day 11 - A song that describes you
Day 12 - A song from your favorite album
Day 13 - A song that you listen to when you're angry
Day 14 - A song that you listen to when you're happy
Day 15 - A song that you listen to when you're sad
Day 16 - A song that you want to play at your wedding
Day 17 - A song that you want to play at your funeral
Day 18 - A song that makes you laugh

Lollapalooza, 2010, Redux

I am home from Lolla. And various other wanderings.

To wit: On the 29th of July, I drove to Michigan, dogs in tow. I went to karaoke at the not-Elbow Room (oh, Elbow Room, how I miss thee). I hung out with my dad on Friday and was offered a pittance for my engagement ring. Thus, instead of selling it, my dad and I went to Knight's Steakhouse and drank vodka. The 31st was the Z Family Summer Gathering, and gather we did. Replete with full family photo and everything.

Things start to get fuzzy in my head then, about when I left Michigan, but I think it was the following Wednesday. Last Thursday I left for Chicago, arriving (much to my surprise) after C did, and then walking several blocks in the wrong direction before turning around and figuring myself out. We went out for dinner, found 'our' bar in Chicago, and were in bed early for the show the next day.

Friday: It was looking like prototypical Lolla for C&T. Show, heat, food. After the show, we made a half-hearted attempt to go to a bar, wouldn't wait, and so got Subway and ate in our room watching a Tomb Raider movie. Oh, how I wish I was kidding.

This came, of course, on the tail of seeing Lady Gaga perform. Now, I'm sure that some of our 10 readers are not Gaga fans, and I wouldn't blame you. It's dance-pop, and not something I am usually drawn to either. But. DEAR GOD. HER STAGE SHOW. Was so good that I STILL cannot talk about it. The woman breathed into a microphone, and the crowd (estimates are around 80,000 people) went nuts, myself included. So perhaps we can be excused our lame evening.

Saturday: Dear 14-year-old Tassie. Get up earlier and get those tickets to that Green Day show. In doing so, you will save your slightly older self the pain and suffering that is hearing Green Day in 2010. MAKE. IT. STOP.

On the way out of the show, someone was handing out fliers for a Necromantix show. So we went. After I changed into a Britney Spears tshirt. (Duh.) Then back to our bar for drinks, where we waited in line with some equipment crew from Lolla. Who offered to double up on a table with us, to be seated faster, and then paid for our drinks, in a not at all creepy way. Good. And beer.

Sunday: SOUNDGARDEN. I WAS TWO FEET AWAY FROM CHRIS CORNELL. And then some whore slammed up against me to get closer to him as he walked through the barrier area during Outshine. Which wouldn't normally be a problem, except I was up against the very-heavy barrier fence. And I have the bruises to prove it. When he walked away again, I had to throw a Bill Lambeer-style elbow at this bitch's face to make her GET THE FUCK OFF ME.

We went back to the bar after the show. And then the night got Epic. EP-IC. And that's all the tantalizing information I shall give you.

But it was so good that I had to slam TWO bloody marys at the airport bar the next day to function. In retrospect, I should have had them at the hotel bar before we left, and I would have been much better off. (And seriously, people, I can drink. I am no lightweight. I am a partier. So if I REQUIRE booze to function the next day? It's been a Night To Remember.)

Fast forward, slightly. Got home Monday night. Tuesday afternoon I drove BACK to Michigan to retrieve my dogs, thinking I would go home Wednesday morning. Except I started feeling lousy, and realized I had a cold/flu/ZOMGI'MDYING. I laid on my parent's couch all day Wednesday, feeling like ass. Started to feel better, went to C's to get some stuff she took home for me, and realized no, I did not feel much better at all. Yesterday, I drove home, finally.

This morning, I took a bus to New York City. I am an unstoppable force of nature, people. UNFUCKINGSTOPPABLE. I had one of my tattoos photographed for use in a cookbook coming out this winter. Seriously. My lemon and I will be featured in a cookbook. How fucking badass is that?

I am back home now. In Baltimore. And I swear I'm not leaving my house for at least 48 hours straight. I seriously just need to meditate on the meaning of life. And the dishes.

Lollapalooza, 2010

But, Tassie, you will say...I thought you were broke? How can you afford to go to Chicago for the weekend?

My answer: Because I bought this plane ticket and concert pass during better times my friend. Back when there was money in my life, and when I thought a job wasn't the figment of my imagination. And I tried to cancel the plane ticket last week, only to be told NO, resoundingly, because I used a third party to get myself a (not very) discount ticket (something I will never do again, for so many reasons).

And so, at 3 this afternoon, I shall board a little blue van and ride to the airport with a bunch of strangers, then pay an obscene amount of money to check my luggage so that I can have proper hair product while I'm in Chicago, fly two hours, ride the El for 30 minutes, and still get to the hotel faster than C who lives considerably closer, but is MegaBussing it there. C who is also fronting the cash for the hotel, because it's either that or making my car payment this month. BUT! She knows I'm good for the money. Some day.

Because yes, money is tight here in Bmore. I'm counting pennies, and scrounging around the house for whatever I have to eat, drink, or otherwise consume without spending more money. Ramen noodles from 2008? OK! The last roll of toilet paper from the basement bathroom? YES. Water to drink, and water only, because I'm out of tea bags? OK, I'm not really out of tea bags, but it's been a lot of water lately.

As for Lolla...I never spend much there, after the ticket and getting there. I buy a concert shirt every year, and I will again this year. Other than that, it's all food. Which is fine, because I need that whether I'm here or there, and even here at the house this weekend was going to require some food purchases. I'm out of rice, people. Out of rice and pasta. And if you're only eating once a day, you need one of those two staples to get you through.

I won't be taking the old Lappy with me to Chi-town, because I'll have my fancy phone with the interwebs on it, so there will be no updating from the show itself. Hopefully I'll return with some interesting stories to tell. At the very least I am, after 15 years, going to see both Soundgarden and Green Day this weekend. I managed to miss both when I was in high school, so this is a little return to the mid-1990s for me. AND GAGA! I CANNOT FORGET ABOUT GAGA!

In other news, and if everything works out the way it's supposed to, it looks as though I shall be returning to school next month. Hello, student loans and goodbye fear of homelessness! Now all I need is some work and the world could be perfect. Almost. Not really, but whatever.

I've Got Blisters on My Fingers!

Since forever, I have had the desire to play the guitar. Acoustic. (Which is, by the way, a word I cannot spell. Ever.) I don't want to become some crazy singer-songwriter, nor do I have any desire to take myself to open mic nights or anything like that. I'd like to be able to strum out some songs and sing. You know, campfire stuff. Well, not campfire songs, because seriously? Kumbaya? No. But songs that interest me and can be played acoustically. Those songs. Yes.

Before I moved to Baltimore, I was playing every day after work for a couple of hours. Then I got distracted and bought a house. And I started playing again after work, because I kept the guitar right next to the couch where I sat. And I was starting to build up some pretty good callouses on my left hand (mandatory for playing). And then something happened, and I stopped.

I realized earlier this week that, while I have no job, I really should be doing more than just reading books and blogs. Perhaps playing the guitar and finishing that FUCKING SWEATER I've been knitting for a couple of years would be great things to do.

So, for at least two hours for the last few days, I've been plunking away. I found tabs for about a dozen songs online, saved them to a word document, and I just walk through them. Well, walking might be a slight overstatement. I'm starting myself with songs that mostly have chords in them I can handle. No Fsus4 or anything like that. There are a couple tricky ones in a couple of the songs, which is fine and forces me to try harder. But, because it's been so long and my fingers are so tender, just pushing down on the strings hard enough to make the basic chords sound right is difficult. The first song hurts every time, because my fingers are getting used to it. Then I'm OK for a few, and as I get near the end of the songs, my fingers are KILLING me. Like right now, when it hurts every time I hit a key with my left hand. So, you know, unused letters like ASDF WERT are painful. Owie.

I tried to learn to play years ago, and I even took lessons for a while. It's hard, however, to learn to play guitar when you live with someone who is really good at it. There you are, slowing, meticulously, carefully trying to strum out some GAC chorded song, and suddenly next to you someone is tweedling all over you. (You know, like in metal songs? Tweedly tweedly tweedly? No? Homestar Runner, anyone?)

Anyhoo. I quit back then. But this time around, I'm serious about it. I shall practice, and practice every day. I'd like to get myself to the point that 1) my fucking fingers don't hurt. 2) I can play the dozen songs I've picked out, and sing them at the same time (harder than you might imagine). 3) I can play them without looking at the chords. I was getting there last time, but then I stopped.

In order to do this I must: 1) Keep my nails on my left hand as short as possible. Fine. 2) Practice practice practice. 3) Practice some more. 4) Not kill my fingers completely, so that I don't want to practice because owie. Although, you'd be surprised how quickly your fingers will callous up. But still, there are a few days of some serious pain, and I'm in the middle of them.

Ow.