One of the options I’ve been pursuing is to become a rock star. Well you never know until you try, right? Seriously, I’ve been putting in some major wood shedding (hep-cat musician speak for “practice”) and have been seeing some gradual improvement in my playing. I’ve been a closet guitar player for forty years, noodling away in private, rarely playing with anyone else, never really learning any songs, just improvising away on the blues and lately some old time country and rockabilly things. I’m not particularly talented as a musician, but I’m determined. And I have a really bad case of stage fright. I’ve attended open jams and when I get called out to solo, it’s deer in the headlights time. My fingers turn to stone, I can’t remember the key we’re in, or where to start. I’ve sat there, sweating for four measures of an eight measure break. I can practice a piece for hours, play it fairly well in private, but if I have one person watching me I just can’t pull it off.

Lately I’ve been getting together to make music with a young woman who I met at a neighbor’s house last summer. Continue reading Dead Flowers →