2 guitar strings later
Yesterday found me walking in the cadence of the rocky path scraping under my thongs, accompanied by the brief sequential woosh crescendos of passing speeding cars and their inconsistant motley of horn beepings. The pretty cascading face of the concrete path my concerned listening ear.
Walking backwards down a highway gets one contemplating a lot of things, like the direction of life if in the event of failure.
I believe it could have been the melancholy weather that caused me the heartache that day, but when you break 2 guitar strings and you only have the money for the cheaper style of goon you start to wonder about the quality of your life.
Finding myself now wandering with hands in my pockets like a part in an American Pie movie that makes you want to stick your fingers down your throat looking like I was about to sing about Sandra Dee, I started seeking widsom from the road. It was almost like talking to a brick wall, only more horizontal.
It was then that I realised something.
I could just buy more guitar strings. I didn't need to get a new life direction, just some new fat Ernie Balls or some Deans.
Then I thought about the fans What about my adoring fans? Where will they be without me? The sweat they will gather as a result from the windmills that just aren't there.
Not only that, but who will sing the songs about the things that really matter? Like drunkedness lullabies, smokey bar anthems and songs of sideburns that cry sweet sweet tears of delectation? I can't pass the responsibility of writing these psalms onto the rest of the world yet... not yet.
So this is me, saying don't worry people. Papas got a brand new bag (with strings in it)
Walking backwards down a highway gets one contemplating a lot of things, like the direction of life if in the event of failure.
I believe it could have been the melancholy weather that caused me the heartache that day, but when you break 2 guitar strings and you only have the money for the cheaper style of goon you start to wonder about the quality of your life.
Finding myself now wandering with hands in my pockets like a part in an American Pie movie that makes you want to stick your fingers down your throat looking like I was about to sing about Sandra Dee, I started seeking widsom from the road. It was almost like talking to a brick wall, only more horizontal.
It was then that I realised something.
I could just buy more guitar strings. I didn't need to get a new life direction, just some new fat Ernie Balls or some Deans.
Then I thought about the fans What about my adoring fans? Where will they be without me? The sweat they will gather as a result from the windmills that just aren't there.
Not only that, but who will sing the songs about the things that really matter? Like drunkedness lullabies, smokey bar anthems and songs of sideburns that cry sweet sweet tears of delectation? I can't pass the responsibility of writing these psalms onto the rest of the world yet... not yet.
So this is me, saying don't worry people. Papas got a brand new bag (with strings in it)
