Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

I had always attributed the buzz in a room when Ziggy and I walked into a place to the fact that Ziggy is like that. He draws every eye to him like a beacon. I didn’t have to be there for that to happen.

But maybe it was the fact that this was supposed to be my thing, or maybe it was all ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

In the morning I examined whether my idealism about the relationship being dead was actually the same thing as the relationship being dead. In the morning I felt less fatalistic about it, anyway. Maybe a good cry does that.

These are the thoughts I had in the shower after Jonathan left ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

I jerked off in the shower because I figured it would help more than hurt. All it meant was then my hair was wet and some more of the eyeliner was gone when I lay down, trying to figure out what to do with myself.

I decided I might as well write a song. The phrase “do no wrong” was still ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

At 10:45 in the morning I was awakened by the sound of the door opening partway and then the chain clunking hard against the door while a sort of Spanish-sounding woman’s voice muttered an apology. The door shut again and I found myself staring at the ceiling, as if my eyes were awake ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

I lay for a long time on top of the bedspread with my clothes on, thinking, thinking. I couldn’t even remember half of what we had just said, which was unusual. Usually I could play back a traumatic exchange like a movie. In fact, I was usually helpless to stop the endless replays. But it ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Bart’s face was stony calm but his voice wavered as he said “Do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on with you?”

‘Fuck’ hit me like a mic pop and I flinched. My hair hung in sweaty strings down my face and I slid to the floor, my legs crossed under me. I couldn’t catch my breath ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Bart found me in the basement. He came in carrying an acoustic guitar case and set it down carefully next to me before he sat down cross-legged himself.

“What’s this?”

He pushed his chin at me and I opened the case. I took out a silky-finish classical guitar. The name label inside the ( Read more... )

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 ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Bart came upstairs a little later, while I was trying to get my clothes on. I could comb my hair but not put it into a ponytail holder. I lay on top of the bedding staring at the ceiling and holding my splinted hand in the air.

“So, what was he telling you when we came in?”

“Some bullshit ( Read more... )