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true guitar story

GUEST,leeneia 11 Sep 09 - 12:17 PM
katlaughing 11 Sep 09 - 12:19 PM
GUEST,leeneia 11 Sep 09 - 12:34 PM
SINSULL 11 Sep 09 - 12:40 PM
olddude 11 Sep 09 - 12:40 PM
VirginiaTam 11 Sep 09 - 01:50 PM
Melissa 11 Sep 09 - 02:08 PM
GUEST,Greycap 12 Sep 09 - 01:28 PM
The Sandman 12 Sep 09 - 01:53 PM
GUEST,leeneia 13 Sep 09 - 10:46 PM
GUEST,riktre 14 Sep 09 - 05:35 AM
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Subject: true guitar story
From: GUEST,leeneia
Date: 11 Sep 09 - 12:17 PM

You probably saw the thread with a link to a Newsbiscuit article about the Guitar-Picnic Shock Horror. That article got me thinking about playing the guitar.

Last night I put tomatoes up for the winter. It made me hot, and my feet hurt, so at 9:30 pm I picked up my guitar and sat on the front porch to strum a bit and cool off. It was a beautiful evening, with walkers and joggers about, and insects producing a steady pizzacato in the trees.

I strummed, and I hummed, and worked on some tricky fingerings. I believe I even sang a few verses of Stewball. Across the street and two houses down, a young guy sat on the porch rail with his back to me. He is one of group of renters who probably think of themselves as: Like, Totally Sophisticated. We think of them as The Loud Kids on the Corner.

The Loud Kid paid no attention to anything on the street. He hardly ever moved a muscle, and occasionally I could see the eerie glow of his transpatial communication facilitator (cell).

I figured between the loud parties and the presumed iPod which is probably in the hearing-damage range, he never noticed the sound. No wonder they text each other all the time. They can't hear each other.

Unbeknownst to me, the twenty-somethings next door were approaching panic. I can see them now - Nicole has her ear pressed to the front door; Aaron clutches his cigs and lighter. He's starting to shake. (Many smokers here smoke outside to keep the house nicer.)


A: Isn't she done yet? What's she playing now?

N: I think it's 'Man of Constant Sorrow.'

A: Oh, god. I'm dying for a cigarette. How long can I last!

N: Wait, it's changing. I think it's a Spagnolette in Am. O heck, she's trying to figure out the tricky middle part.

A: O god, o god.

After half an hour, three things happened at the same time. I got to my feet and headed for my front door. Nicole and Aaron flicked on their porch light and came outside, smiling brightly. And the Loud Kid went inside, emerged with a guitar in his hand, sat with his back to us on the front porch, and started to play.

The insects seemed prepared to supply the pizzacato for him, too.


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: katlaughing
Date: 11 Sep 09 - 12:19 PM

Very kewl!!


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: GUEST,leeneia
Date: 11 Sep 09 - 12:34 PM

Thanks, kat.

In a little while I'm going out of town. Anybody who wishes to express awe and adulation -- do it now.

Another audience member was a dyed-in-the-wool daddy who was searching for a black kitten under prickly junipers. (He found it.)


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: SINSULL
Date: 11 Sep 09 - 12:40 PM

A story with two happy endings - NEAT!
Mary


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: olddude
Date: 11 Sep 09 - 12:40 PM

I sit on the porch every night by myself and play. I notice this summer the neighbors would come out on their porches.   No one ever said a word to me. A few days ago I ran into a neighbor who said. I am glad you are feeling better, we missed our evening concerts ... I laughed. I never thought they were listening, just thought they were out enjoying the warm weather ... lots of fun


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: VirginiaTam
Date: 11 Sep 09 - 01:50 PM

Waahhhhhh! I miss my front porch. Had a log cabin with long front porch and requisite rocking chair when I lived in Virginia. Often played my guitar (badly) out there. More often sang with my daughters.

Now live in flat in UK. Nearest thing to singing outdoors, is to open the lounge window and look at the neighbor's 20 foot hedge, while I sing and play, but fear I will bother the residents in upper and lower flats.

I miss crickets too. Have not heard one since I moved to UK.


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: Melissa
Date: 11 Sep 09 - 02:08 PM

that reminds me of one I sing

ch
Do you still sit on the backporch every Saturday evening
Does your yodeling still echo 'cross the holler
Do the folks down the hill still sit out in their chairs
on the front porch and listen in
as you yodel 'cross the hill


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: GUEST,Greycap
Date: 12 Sep 09 - 01:28 PM

I loved that.


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: The Sandman
Date: 12 Sep 09 - 01:53 PM

Virginia Tam,that why I am glad I left.


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: GUEST,leeneia
Date: 13 Sep 09 - 10:46 PM

There must be something you can do about the missing crickets, Virginia. I believe Dickens wrote a story called 'The Cricket on the Hearth,' so that shows they belong.

Buy some leaf mold and pile in the corners of your garden, then see what happens.
=======
Two days ago I was in the small town of Cottonwood Falls, Kansas. After supper we stopped in a the community jam. There were 60 people in the audience and 22 playing instruments or singing. Lots of guitars, needless to say.

Olddude, I'm glad to hear that your neighbors like your music.


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Subject: RE: true guitar story
From: GUEST,riktre
Date: 14 Sep 09 - 05:35 AM

Virginia - I'm in the UK (Herts) and frequently have a cricket chorus accompanying me when practising.

How is this achieved?

There is a plastic tub of the noisy buggers in
the kitchen. They are kept as fodder for my son's pet lizard.


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