I plowed through a lot of work this morning and suddenly found some time on my hands, something I haven't had for a while...sometimes I'm too busy to attend to some of the really important things in my life that might get me out from behind this desk...
...but...reaching into my pocket to check....yes, I had two guitar picks with me, I jumped on the T and headed up to Daddy's Junky Music...maybe play a few guitars...look for that digital recorder that I don't know why I want...hope that the salespeople weren't pushy today, because they sell on commission there and I know what I'm looking for, if I want help I'll ask for it, and no I don't need another credit card...and hoping that the number of Berklee students present would be at a minimum, because Berklee students suck...they are the most selfish, self-centered, whiny bunch of show-off babies---worse than musical theater actors--and they really make the time spent there a real hassle....and the world was in sync with me today....
I was going through the gates at Park when a Cleveland Circle train was pulling into the station, right there at the bottom of the stairs....no fighting through a crowd of meandering commuters....and what the?...a seat?...no effing way...sigh...
Easy train ride...going past Berklee suddenly a punked-out woman was walking alongside me...she seemed awfully interested in me...what?...do you want to help me save a whale? she asked...I started laughing, and I heard her say, why are you laughing?...do I look like someone who wants to save a whale?...particularly that not fifty feet away was a perfectly good drunk/drug addict who could have used her help...that's what I love about liberals and do-gooders: They care more about the whales and the baby seals than their fellow humans.
Hot damn...I slip into Junky Daddy's and not a salesperson notices, not even the greeter by the door...and in the acoustic room is a older Latino man with a woman, and neither one looks like they go to Berklee...and he's playing some sweet classical riffs, too...nothing fancy, just nice....I check out the geetars on the wall...there's a pretty Ibanez that I pick up; it's nice and solid but you know, it just doesn't sound right. I look around. Gibson...no, I'm really not a Gibson man...Taylor?...uh, no thanks...there's the old standby: a Martin D-28, retailing for about $2,800, on sale for $2,100. The other guy is sitting on the bench, and since there were no stools, I plopped down on an amp and played Good Friday. Then Angel Mine. I sang under my breath.
The other guy said the guitar sounded good...at least I think that's what he said...we started talking and from what I could gather from my broken Spanish and his broken English, he lived in Somerville in a big room with a lot of guitars and a piano, and he thought I was Bruce Springsteen. Nice. He left and I noticed a gorgeous Gibson and thought, it's so bonita...and expensive...$4,100 on sale for about $3,200...it sounded so rich and then I plugged it in and played some more.
Slipped out. Saw the Latino guy in the subway station. Waved. Got off at Arlington because it was such a darn nice day and had some time to walk and get some exercise. Crossing Boylston I thought what a nice city Boston can be when the weather's nice and the people aren't so cranky. Almost bought an ice cream cone from a truck until I noticed a cone was $3.00. Ah, right, tourists will pay that, I guess.
Up on Tremont I helped a blind woman cross the street, because I was feeling so damn good...
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