We were in Maryland for a few days visiting our beautiful and brilliant oldest daughter, her engaging lawyer husband, and most especially their charming 4 month old daughter, our grand daughter, Anna Claire. Baby smiles are like crack. You just want more and more. I brought all of my schtick--sound effects,improvised songs, dancing and whatever I could think of on the fly.
I miss that baby and all she telescopes from and to.
I'm off my routines, feeling a bit unsettled. Also a bit sick. I'm allergic to cats and dogs; and, though I love them, my lungs don't fare well around them. Both of our kids have households with numerous pets.
I've just started listening to a 4 disc retrospective of Stephen Stills' oeuvre. Hard to believe he's been making some pretty terrific music for 50 years. It seems like yesterday I was playing air guitar to Buffalo Springfield in my lonely teenager bedroom.
After a few days off I stumbled today through some guitar exercises. When I ask more established players questions, they ask about my goals, they speak in musical jargon or ask me if I want to play lead or whatever. They dazzle with the training and knowledge I don't have.
My guitar goals are fuzzy. I want to be able to make a sort of Blues I can think with. That's it. It, if it happens, will be as uninformed and as homemade as my poetry.
I don't want to be Clapton or anyone in particular. I want to make a sound or two that asks a question or two. That's all.