Chris Says. (Patresa)

Guitar practice time. = 4 hours with a BUT. It is 7:40 p.m. Tuesday night. Although at this exact moment, I have only practiced 4 hours, I will practice at least another 30 minutes tonight before I go to bed. So… by the time you read this, I will have fallen only 30 minutes shy of my 5 hour goal. I'm good with that. 


Of the 10 days since my last post, I have spent 5 on the road. In fact, I just got home from two days out. I actually considered taking my guitar with me, but... Tooling around Iowa in a state-marked vehicle with my guitar sticking up in the backseat? No… the governor would get calls. (The governor already gets calls when state-marked vehicles are parked at malls.)

I've been doing my soul-sucking drills. (I think my soul is still okay. I've been keeping track.) I do feel a little difference even just after 2 weeks. They still frustrate me. It takes 20 minutes to get through all the variations. And when I bobble the notes, I want to throw objects at other objects. I have very low tolerance for frustration. Very low. But Chris says (all my posts will now be re-titled "Chris Says -1," "Chris Says-2," "Chris Says-3"…) that after another couple of weeks of this round of drills, he'll show me a new set. Chris Says… "You have to walk before you run, Grasshopper." Whatever. Eye roll.

Narrative evidence of progress: I just deleted the rabbit ears I put around the word progress. I'm not going to take a poop on it. It really was progress, although I got pretty frustrated this week. Here is why:

a. I broke a string for the very first time. I've been playing the guitar for the past 8 years. But I played it sheepishly and quietly and with little commitment. I think it took me 8 years to bust my first string because I played too hesitantly. I'm playing with a little more oomph now. So… I decided the busted string was progress, and I felt pretty badass about it.

b. But then I had to restring my guitar. Chris taught me a long time ago. (Chris Says) I'd done it a few times, but the last few years, I've always managed to get Chris to do it for me. I mean, people PAY him to set up their guitars; why would I not have him do mine? Now that I've decided to stop being a giant pansy, I figure I should do this myself. So I did. It was frustrating. Slow. Clumsy. It took me an hour and a half. I swore a lot, and I drew blood when I pinched my hand with the wire cutters. Then… I started to tune and realized I had put on the wrong strings. THE WRONG STRINGS, for crying out loud! I'd grabbed a set of "mistake" strings--leftovers from an accidental purchase (I accidentally bought 12-string guitar strings a while back.). I admit: I cried. I cry when I'm tired and frustrated. Terribly embarrassing. Chris stifled his laughter and then offered to restring it. But… I refused on account of my pride.

I took a break. I went out and got a haircut and confessed to Rona, Hair Goddess, that I really hoped by the time I got home, Chris would have restrung it for me out of pity. He did not. (Damn you, Chris, for not being an enabler!) So, I restrung my guitar AGAIN and with the correct strings. It's all better. Progress.

Scheduled free time: You know what? Screw this. I mean, really. What was I thinking? It's f-ing free time, P. FREE.

New Song Development: One morning I found a really cool vocal line to go with some scratchy lyrics of one of my new songs. I played it through a few times and was really excited about it. Then I had to go to work. 8.5 hours later I returned home and could not for the life of me recall the rhythm or vocal line. This burned my buns. (Damn you, State of Iowa!)

Cover Song Development: My goal was to pick one and get started. I had 4 in mind:

1. The Passenger by Iggy Pop, 

2. Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) -- Nancy Sinatra's (I don't remember who did it originally.),

3. No One is to Blame by Howard Jones, and

4. …. I dont remember the 4th, but it may have been from the Indigo Girls (predictably).

I picked No One is to Blame. I think this is such a cool song. It's piano-driven, but I can hear a really cool acoustic guitar version in my head. The problem, as I'm finding it, is that I can't get what I hear in my head to come out through my fingers. Chris could do it in 5 minutes (Chris Says), but I should be able to do this myself, so I'm not asking him for help. I worked on it one night and wanted to punch somebody in the face. If I were at the piano, I could do it fairly easily. The piano makes sense to me; it's linear; I know what I'm playing; I can hear something in my head, and I know where to find it in the keys. The guitar doesn't make sense to me. It's too layered, and the intervals seem inconsistent. I don't understand what I'm doing. I don't know where the sounds are. It makes me really mad, and then I swear, beat on my strings, and say horribly degrading things to myself. Really, the things I say to myself… I would never in a million years say them to another living soul. (We really must be kinder to the people we see in our mirrors. They are such good, well-meaning people.)

Goals for the next 10 days:

1. Log another 5 hours of practice time.

2. Scratch out a better vocal line for an original.

3. Figure out at least the verse for No One is to Blame.

4. Create new swear words to replace the ones I've been overusing this week.

Now, I will go practice. While I'm doing that, here's Howard Jones. You should consider his haircut.