Bring On The Dancing Horses
Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
It took a few days, but rehearsals began to get somewhat better-either that or I was just adjusting to my crippled state. The transitions were smoother, and even though I felt held back by the limitations of my fingers, the new material did not sound as bad as I’d feared. I couldn’t play chords or intricate riffs, but I began to get into the slide thing as a new texture and have a little fun with it.
And Ziggy didn’t torture me. The fight seemed to have sobered us up. We pretended nothing was wrong, or that there was nothing to be wrong about. That was fine with me, except for the lonely nights part. Chris and I couldn’t very well get stoned every night. We settled for drunk the next night, drinking Southern Comfort and Rolling Rock. The next day was much the same: coffee, rehearse, come home.
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