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Wednesday, January 09, 2008


That's wonderful Seth is going to have a guitar friend! I taught myself to play flamingo guitar when I was ten. I STILL love to play and sing songs I make up.

I will bet he will remember this first visit when he's older.

Okay, I'm crying now. My baby and his first guitar.


This is a big moment in his life.

Nadine: I hope so. I know he's excited about the classes.

Anne: You're so cute when you cry.

I will always remember the expression on his face when you told him he was going to buy his very own guitar. Just pure joy, mixed with wonder. Awww ...

I thought it was shock!

I love that place. When my daughter was taking dance lessons there I'd hang out in the lobby and just watch people. It was amazing, the incredible breadth of difference among all the people there yet, as you said, they were all hyperfocused on music. It was exhilarating.

I just bought the boy a drum set. Much different effect on the house than a guitar! He loves 'em. Beats the crap out them constantly! The first night, when I finally got them put together, he dove into the middle of the whole thing and started flailing. I smiled and went back upstairs where, as weird as t sounds, the drums were actually louder than they sounded when I was actually in the room with them. His technique, from what I could hear, was to flail wildly, hitting everything in front of him including the rims and the legs, until he tangled up his arms or lost momentum, then laugh uncontrollably like a crack addled hyena until he needed more oxygen, then back to drumming. Repeat.

I figure this is like one of those weird shamanic exhaustion rituals and he'll eventually reach nirvana--or at least start to play like Dave Grolsh.

Oh yeah, I forgot. I used to run a music department here in Chicago and I met Ralph a couple of times. He's a decent guy and his CDs are outstanding. He played at our store and I asked him to sign a poster for my son. He's such an outstanding guy, he signed "FART! -- Ralph!" I love that.

Please visit my blog and listen to MY song for my son's stanky socks.

Death: Boy am I glad my son didn't ask for drums. Phew.

And my kids are going to love your song, I'm afraid.

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