I've been taking guitar lessons, and let me tell you, it's a daunting, overwhelming experience. Even when my teacher tries to teach me a supposedly easy song, like Brown Eyed Girl (I didn't pick the song, I swear) it's fricking hard?! Why'd Van have to go with D7 chords and the like? I don't even like practicing at home, because I feel bad for my roommates, who must think I'm slowly sticking bamboo shoots into the virtual finger nails of my cheap ass guitar, and making it howl in agony. I overheard my one roommate, who is like a violin prodigy, say, "He's just not seeing the chords." No, asshole, I suppose I'm not, and it's God damned frustrating! I'm really impatient, and I just want to play like Slash and have girls throwing their underwear on stage, like tomorrow would be a good time for that to start happening.
You know those luffa sponge things with the stick on it? I really like the ones without the stick, for bathing purposes because you can get a firmer grip, and scrub better. In reality, there is only about a 3 square inch spot on your back that the stick helps you hit, and I'll sacrifice the tiny, unscrubbed section of my back for more overall torque* any day. However, what the stick variety of luffa lacks in showering practicality it makes up for it in spades by opening the door to shower-time, air guitar sessions! When I take a shower every morning, I air guitar the shit out of my luffa on a stick, and behind that curtain, I AM the guy getting panties thrown at him. By the truck load. My actual guitar skills clearly suck, so far, but my air guitar abilities have never come into question. I am up and down the fret of that luffa stick with all the deft, finger-flying antics of a rock God. I'll even hit up some whammy bars at opportune moments, let loose with some finger tapping a-la Eddie Van Halen, and even bang out some Pete Townsendesque windmills. I'm yet to get on my knees, set my luffa on fire, and beckon the flames to rise with my finger tips, like Hendrix. That might be a bit much. Even for me.
I've been finding it's really tough to go from the naked, guitar prodigy rocking the crowd with all the energy of a rabid hyena to the dorky, dim witted 30-year-old guy sitting with his uncooperative, real guitar, saying to himself, "Okay, now leave that finger there, pick up all the other ones, and strum that flipping D7 chord. Now how's the strum pattern go? Down, down, down, up, up, down, up . . ." Shower Rock God never has to concentrate like that. It just comes innate to him, like breathing.
How about you, seven readers, do you air-guitar, air-microphone, air-viola (that sounds like areola)?
*Leverage might be the better choice for a word here, but I've never used the word torque in a blog, and I wanted to get it in before my 100th post.