Wednesday. Raining, of course. Rain all day today and tomorrow from the sound of it. Well, up at six with the alarm, to breakfast and back now at eight. My sister and I were thinking of heading over to San Francisco this morning, checking out the Ferry building and Fisherman's Wharf (I actually haven't been to Fisherman's Wharf in at least a decade or more) and then maybe a ferry to Sausalito for a later afternoon lunch. I'm thinking with the rain we may not be following this particular script.
Later. A decent guitar lesson. With the rain no reason not to show up. I've managed to figure out how to use this “Spider Jam” amp of mine with all its built in drum beats, songs sans guitar and such and I've been practicing now, much to my surprise, against a proper drum rhythm just like an actual musician. Why have I taken so long to just sit down with the damned manual and figure it out? Signs of depression, they say, putting such things off; a low level depression anyway, not uncommon in older folks. Well, either way, up or down, we seem to be coming up finally for air.
Oh, and I learned most electric guitars don't have pre-amps that need batteries. Mine does, having some kind of supercharged element under the tone controls, none of which I'm even aware of let alone use. Use with comprehension. But I figured that out earlier, I should have started with a plain old unaltered guitar, no alterations based on its use by a famous name, and learned to play and know my own preferences before I got something like the one I have now. I'm not really complaining you understand, it's a really nice guitar, but it was acquired for emotional rather than rational reasons and I'm just saying it's best (from my standpoint) that I cop to that. Not that I'm trading it for anything else, altered and named for the preferences of a famous guitar player and all.
You've devolved into babble again.
True, but these are the little things in my life I now find interesting. Lessons learned on the road from juvenile to adult. Takes time, it does, growing up. In my case going on sixty-eight years. I'm looking to make it all the way up to teenager pretty quick.
Later still. The idea is to drive over to my cousin's for dinner with her and my sister. Better think in terms of something nice in the way of a wine, I'm thinking.
Later still. A nap, a nice nap, feel better. A drive to Beverages & More for a bottle of sake (for tomorrow or later) and a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, not too expensive, not so inexpensive as to not be good. A Champagne I've had consistently good luck with and can reliably pronounce the name, one of the few good things I retain from my time in the wine business.
The sun is out at the moment, clear enough to chance a walk, but I'm thinking maybe another nap. Two movies came from Netflix, might open one to see what it is (no way I remember what I've ordered anymore), but I suspect I'll pass. We'll say we had enough walking yesterday, maybe pick up the guitar before leaving for dinner, strum a few chords, see if I can make one or two of them resemble actual music (played on a famous named guitarist's electric guitar).