a love story, of sorts

24 Apr

There have been a few people who have asked about my new guitar, so I thought I’d write an ode here to her (yes, after long last, one of my guitars is finally a “her”). So here goes. BTW, G-rated, this is not. Proceed with caution.

There were probably a million better things I could be doing with my time that afternoon. But into Guitar Center I strolled. And after visiting the usual suspects and old friends, the Martin OMC Aura, the Martin 16 series, the Taylor GA8 and 600 series, my eyes fell on an unbranded guitar – one that looked a bit unique. At first glance, I thought, “That’s a pretty guitar.” It took a closer examination to see that the guitar was fully rosewood. Including the top, which is very rare. In any case, she caught my attention, so I approached her.

At first, though, I didn’t really give her the benefit of the doubt. Just casually ran my finger across her strings – I didn’t even bother removing her from the guitar stand. Not a bad sound. A certain warmth, definitely, probably due to the rosewood top. “But there are tons more like it,” I thought. And didn’t really give her another thought. Moreover, I couldn’t really gauge how she sounded through the cacophony of everyone else playing and testing out instruments. Finally, as the afternoon wore on, people left, and I found myself alone with her. So I finally picked her up off the stand, held her in my arms, and this time, I listened.

Although there was an undeniable connection going on here, I wasn’t sure I wanted to invest in a new guitar at the moment. So I let things be for a while. But I kept going back, and occasionally, I’d see other people picking her up and playing her. And I would too. I was slowly moved. She somehow got under my skin, and weaseled her way into my heart.

Finally, I took her home with me. Then, deep in the dark recesses of nighttime, I explored her. With each pluck, each stroke, each caress, she makes a different sound. I feel like I could spend forever touching her just to see how I can illicit different reactions. Soft, hard, strumming, plucking, slapping, hammering… with each touch, she reveals more to me, more depth, more overtones, more shades and layers. She unravels me with her beauty, both inside and out. With every touch and every glance, with every breath, I want more. I can’t get close enough to her. In the dark of the night, I make her sing.

I’m so in love with her.

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Posted by on April 24, 2011 in Uncategorized


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