Something strange happened... Some time this week. Time has bled so much, I can’t tell what day it is, or what I’m doing much, apart from a peach fuzzy sort of fuzz. Buzz. Probably the lack of sleeping causing all the buzzy fuzz, but that’s not my point. I’ll get to my point in a moment, but first some background. Background is important to this story, musing, whatever. Writing piece, we shall call it.
I love guitars, of all shapes and sizes. I love the way they feel in my hands, with the exception of a few brands. I love how I can, somehow, more or less adequately, use them to convey my feelings. Though, really, that’s known only to me because I play for me and me only.
Traditionally, I’ve always sought acoustic and semi-acoustic guitars, though to be honest, can’t afford much. Regardless, there’s something simple and satisfying about the feeling of just playing a natural instrument without the need for amplification and jiggery pokery. Yes, I enjoy the tech that comes with a guitar, but you can take it or leave it, really.
So imagine my surprise when my curiosity was piqued by a Fender Telecaster (Tele), of all things. I’ve always enjoyed the look of those guitars, but never really liked the sound. It just didn’t turn me on like any other guitar. I like my guitars to sound meaty and rich. Okay, so I’ve just described a good meal there, but you get my drift. Or something.
I picked up this Tele and slung the strap around my shoulder. I played a simple tune, without amplification because it wasn’t my guitar and I was having a wee sneaky fiddle around with it. Well, you could have coloured me stunned. I loved the feel of it! It was smooth. The fingerboard didn’t have that nastiness that some guitars, particularly Fenders, have. It just felt so nice and I couldn’t keep my mitts off it.
I’ll explain my comment about the fingerboard. I like a natural feeing fingerboard. Almost untreated or perhaps just lightly treated. Quite like Gibson do with theirs. Fender, on the other hand, puts some sort of funky lacquer on theirs, which does keep it clean, but also feels a bit... Weird. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s just weird, almost like your hands are going to slip from the frets, or like it might be greasy. Yamaha are another bunch who can’t seem to get their fingerboards right. It leaves me with a tingly feeling in my hands, not unlike the prelude to pins and needles.
There was something else that surprised me. I was playing football (soccer) with a dog and I surprised myself with my skills. I just seemed to get them back. When I was younger, I used to be quite a good footballer, but the game never really interested me. I just liked hammering a ball around, really.
I’m one of those weird players, who has just as much power and accuracy in both feet. Even after all those years, I can still control the ball like I could all those years ago, which is surprising because the last time I played football competitively, I was about 16.
We won the tournament and it was all due to one spectacular goal from me. As what always happens, the goalie was getting ready to punt the ball, after some sort of play was made. Who knows what, but the goalie was determined to punt this damned ball down the field to his team mate who was about centrefield. Well, the goalie punted it a little too hard and it overshot the dude. The dude ran for the ball, meanwhile I’m standing there in goal, because people used to like making me save the ball with my face, and this football is hurtling through the air. The defender dude is looming towards me and eyeing up the ball. Somehow, he made a lunge at the ball in midair and fell flat on his moosh. Good for him! So this damned ball is still hurtling through the air like a fricking meteorite and it looks as if it’s heading toward my head. Standing in goal, I fear for my life, so I go to meet the ball. Foolish, but bugger it, this is a matter of pride. I sidestepped the overly dramatic defender and got the ball in my sight, raised my knee and felt one almighty crash upon it. I look up and see the ball hurtling (I’m giggling at that word. Isn’t it a funny one?) through that air at the same trajectory at which it smacked my knee. Then it seemed to slow down and hover, as if it was trying to make up its mind what the buggeration to do. One of my teammates decides to go for a diving header and misses, much to the frustration of the home crowd. The ball then takes a slight curve, lands in the goal and wins the game. Right on the damned whistle. Okay, I’m not even into football, nor ever really was - I played that game to prove a point that I could play, but chose not to. Winning that game, though, gave me such a great feeling and that goal was bloody spectacular.
So, more surprising stuff? I feel that that wee game of kickabout with Bobby (the dog) sparked something off in me that makes me want to exercise. I feel like grabbing my bike and getting back into the cycling. I used to cycle a lot, but somehow became lazy. It happens. I’ve had some amazing spills on bikes and terrifying thrills. I still can’t beat my all time top speed of 35 MPH, but I try. At my peak, I could cycle at an average speed of 15 MPH mostly on the straight, obviously more downhill and about 9 MPH uphill. Some of the hills around here are killers. In a car, it’s fine, the machine does all the work. On a bike, it’s you against the hill and other road users. You have to be sure to give way when you have to, watch you don’t go too slowly, or you might fall off and also keep your speed at a decent pace so that you can coast and have a break at the top of the hill.
Then, of course, there’s the mere fact that other road users want to make you into roadkill and eat you, but those are few and far between. Most of them just wanna mangle you. I think before sitting a car driving test, most people should either cycle on the roads (never the bloody pavement, for goodness sake, that’s just dangerous for pedestrians. Have some frigging manners!) or ride a motorbike. On either, you have to be vigilant of everything. Most of it is listening and looking - not just looking, but noticing, anticipating. Some of it is common sense, but as soon as you have that listening thing down, and you learn to respect, not just other road users, but the road itself (believe me, some of those roads are actually homicidal) then you can consider yourself a good driver. It teaches you how to look ahead and interpret the road much better than you can in a tin can. Okay, I’m not bashing motorists because most of them are quite sensible, but try riding a bike on a busy road. It’s bloody terrifying, but that’s some of the buzz.
Speaking of buzz, there’s a damned fly in this room. Go away fly!
I hugged someone today. It was one of those hugs that started out as a friendly goodbye hug and then developed into a squeezing fest. It was like we were playing a game of oneupmanship, only with hugging. That was a good hug.
Well, I think I’ll end this here. I dunno, I’ve run out of things to say, so I’ll end with this wee bit more Random Kitty Thinking: To commandeer your mind, you gotta have one, innit.
See y’all and Kittylove!