threehundredsixtyfive days

somewhere pretty close to
365*24 hours ago… one big ellipse
from what i’ve been given to understand…
i got this guitar
and posted about it.
just recently i named “her”: “woody”
(like i told androo… “… because
someday i hope to kill a fascist
with it”); up until a couple weeks
ago i just called it “the new one”
(or “the yamaha”). i’ve been playing
the heck out of it… and “the old one” too
(aka “the moonbox” aka “the applause”).

if i’m as much better next year
compared to what i am now as
i *am* better now compared to
whatever it was, a year *ago*…
what i was *then*…
why then, i’ll blow the roof off.
meanwhile i’ve just never been
so good in my life and by golly
it’s exhilarating. my buddy “henry”…
another fiftysomething, let me insert…
that i see all too seldom came around
from up mansfield way and we had
much the best jam session i’ve ever
participated in (as to, i guess,
“musicianship”… i’ll have been in
others just as fun to’ve *played* in).
he’s all “hey this hurts”.
me just laughing.
(“of course! ain’t it *great*?
my hands are at least a little
bit sore *all the time* these days!
they hurt *dreadfully* sometimes
when i’m playing! this is what
makes all those *lesser* players
*quit*! not you and me!” all up
there somewhere *in* the laugh.)
you’ve got to suffer if
you wanna sing the blues.