This is my first blog post/online diary thing and I honestly am not sure what kind of voice to take with it. You know when you sit down to write something you know people will be reading, and you want to use your “writer’s voice”? Why do we do that? I almost did that for this. I’m writing this on a rainy afternoon on April 9th, 2020, and I literally almost started writing this thing with the sentence… “As I hear the rain pitter patter outside my window in Silver Lake, I think… how confining the weather can be during these times of Corona…” Who wants to read shit like that? I don’t talk that way, so I want to assure you that you won’t be reading words that sound like they’re coming from a writer. These will be more like talk words. Words from a talker.
I decided to use some of this downtime to learn how to play guitar. I don’t give a fuck how stereotypical that is, nor do I know if it’s a stereotype. I have no musical ability that I know of, but I need an activity more tactile than just writing… and not writing. I’m a screenwriter in case any strangers have wandered over to read this blog. That would insane, but I would love it if it happened. Who lacks enough things to look at on the internet for that to happen? Now I grocery shop online, giving me yet even more things to do on the internet. Maybe I should start seeking out some random personal blog postings from strangers after I online grocery shop in order to encourage this practice. “Please read me, I’m desperate!” That must be what my true inner voice is saying. Why else share? How sad, I wish there was more to it.
Back to the guitar. I take this Jasmine acoustic to the guitar tech’s apartment in Silver Lake, like 5 blocks from where I’m staying. It’s weird that I even still have this guitar in my possession. It was an expected gift I received from my friend Rachel when I helped her move out of her apartment in New Orleans in 2013 (or 2015, I can’t remember). I have played once, at a lesson I took in March 2018… yet I’ve still hauled this fucking thing around with me, just waiting for a pandemic to arrive that would give me some time to learn how to play it! Now, here we are. I get to the guitar tech’s tiny apartment… and he invites me in. During these weeks of intense social distancing... that was an outlandish thing to do. So I told him… “Uh, no, I’m doing social distancing shit.” Now, mind you, this is a guitar dude in Silver Lake, Los Angeles…. So of course the first thing he says to me is, “It’s not nearly as bad as the flu. The media’s doing everything in their power to make Trump look as bad as they can with all these deaths.” Huh? I don’t fucking know this guy at all. Hell, I think I’m being a bit risky even getting this close to a stranger’s apartment during these days of sick, and this dude hits me immediately with liberal, media, bias hoax shit? And clearly he’s the worst person to expose yourself to… he doesn’t even believe in the virus! I didn’t want to argue with him, as I didn’t want get his spit particles all excited form arguing, and flying in my direction. So I think I literally said nothing.
We finished our initial exchange – I handed him guitar, and he was writing something down about the job on this tiny notepad. Suddenly he got real excited, as he remembered that when I called him earlier, the caller ID on his phone revealed that my area code is Shreveport, Louisiana. He quite liked that, as he then told me that he was from somewhere in Mississippi. Now it started making sense to me, this dude’s thinking “he’s one of us” – with “us” I guess being white southerners who abide by a Fox News loop, or whatever the fuck it is that informs the thought patterns of someone like this. So he takes the guitar and then says something soooo bizarre, to the tune of “I once was from Mississippi, but out here in LA I’m but a speck of dust!” I didn’t know what the hell to make of that, but I guess it was meant to be humorous, because he started laughing… cackling really… and then he coughed! The motherfucker straight up coughed. I was socially distant from him… but still??? This would just be no kind of respectable way to get coronavirus… on a totally nonessential trip to get my guitar set up from some Fox News brain fucked conspiracy theorist (“they’re going to be pushing mail in voting soon, just wait!” – another direct quote).
Anyway. I texted back and forth with him on the phone today, and had to lay down the law. I’m coming to get the guitar, but he’s got to abide social distancing practices, and we ain’t going to be having any chit chat. It’s just going to be a simple exchange – money for guitar - anything besides that we’ll have to discuss over the phone. He gave me a little guff about “fear being used to influence our decision-making,” but overall he seemed to get it and promised to be wearing protective gear when we meet up. Takeaways…. We ended on a good note on our texts. He got where I was coming from (Note: A good way to talk to right wing, nonbeliever folks about coronavirus shit is to tell them – “Even if this is just the flu… I don’t fucking want it.” They seem to get that. The flu, for now, is still politically neutral.) And we also both agreed that playing the guitar during times like this is good medicine, and really can provide some positive spiritual regeneration. So, I’m off to get my restrung, “action adjusted,” guitar this afternoon, and hopefully will soon be on the road to musical competency and spiritual regeneration. My apologies if that last sentence sounded writer-ish. I wish this rain would fucking stop. Thanks.
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