This week's honorary Hose Monster: No One
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9.08.2002
Maybe I should blog drunk more often. I would have never guessed that my last post would have generated as much interest and good tips as it has. I love it when people leave me comments.
Louisiana left a couple of interesting comments regarding using musical instruments as a bridge to picking up women, claiming that guitar players have an advantage in picking up ladies. I told her that I play guitar, and for the most part it has not afforded me any great advantages. (Some of the stuff I tell you about myself in this blog is true, but much of it is pure fiction. For the record part, the guitar part is absolutely true.) She says I'm simply looking in the wrong places.
This raises something of a quandary in my head: I have known a number of girls who see performers in bars or whatever and immediately find them attractive and go out of their way to meet them. And I don't blame them. Musical talent is very sexy, both in women and men. But I think it works differently if someone does not see you actually playing. My performing is mostly restricted to the darkness of my bedroom before I go to bed at night. And I think if I were to try and bring up in conversation with a girl in a bar the fact that I play guitar, or whatever other "sexy thing" you want to throw it, it would just look like I am trying too hard.
Of course, this assumes I can initiate conversation in bars with girls, which I usually don't, because I always think that before I even say my name, they'll just think I am trying to get into their pants. And maybe I am months down the line or whatever. But the thought of someone coming up to me with that express interest makes me think I would never want to talk to them, so why, in the reversal of roles, would they want to talk to me? Maybe it's a confidence issue, but I tend to think of myself as a pretty confident person. Oh well - to tell the truth, I'm really not all that concerned about finding a girl. I'm like Robby in that I think about girls and sex a lot, but at this point, it's just a daydream, because I'm not getting any, and in all honesty, I have much greater things occupying my thoughts these days.
But getting back to the guitar thing: I think a lot of guys honestly do own one and try to learn it because of the rumor that girls go for guys who play. And if it is in fact true, why not? Personally, I started playing because I wanted to be the next incarnation of Kurt Cobain, but without all the drugs and happiness problems. I have kept playing because I find some catharsis in doing so. I play for myself only, to relax, and for the occasional privilege of watching someone else floor me with their talent. (I finally got the chance to play for a friend of mine who enjoys singing this summer. Just a beautifully smooth and sultry voice tucked away in raw form in this little body trying to get out. It was terrific, and that hour was worth the calluses on my fingers later that night.)
But maybe I should just start carrying my guitar around and see what happens. Could be an interesting experiement. Hell, I already carry thirty pounds of crap with me everywhere I go. My back will hardly be able to tell the difference.
Changing veins, we're obviously nearing the September 11, and I think many of us who keep a blog have been wondering what to do about that in the last few days. Moxie is the first person I have seen to broach the topic in her blog. So far this year I have spent a lot of time remembering how the three weeks surrounding that date (before and after) constituted the most difficult and trying period of my adult life. That September 11 coincided with this period obviously served to exacerbate the difficulties I was already experiencing. I'm sure I will write about that in the next few days, as I remember how I managed to survive on the strength of one person, who basically carried me through a very dark period of my life and set me down in what would become the longest sustained happiness I can remember.
But at some point I might have to give in to the temptation to talk about the meaning of September 11. In the wealth of reactions I have heard on the matter in the last year, in the conspiracy theories and the anger directed against our government, in the undeserved hatred directed against Arabs living in this country, and in the jingoism and actual and deserved patriotism that day spurred, something undefined still sits out there in me. I believe, in some strange and probably terrible way, that September 11 was a good thing for all of us. I'll think about articulating that later. In the meantime, I'm going to relax, have a beer and play my guitar.
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