(no subject)
Dear LJ:
It's been a while. Today was a strange day.
First, I got all excited to get my new pickups installed. After almost half a year of waiting, I finally got the money to order them and now my guitar is going to sound like pure bliss. However, the Fret Shop wanted to charge me 50-60 dollars to change them out. I know, right? Ridiculous. So I think to myself, "Hey, self, maybe the Railroad Bazaar will cut you (me) a deal." So I drive down to the RB... and they want 75 for it.
Preposterous! Unbelievable! Utterly stupendous!
Having found no solution to my problem, I went to work, where a few friends offered to change them out for me... for free. A long, mostly uneventful night followed, the only highlight being that one couple beckoned me to them, and, skipping the usual pleasantries, launched into the conversation that follows:
Woman: "What's your name?"
Self: [somewhat hesitantly] "Uh... Hamilton."
Woman: "What's your last name?"
Self: [now quite hesitantly] "Henson..."
Woman: "Do you have a brother named Nick?"
Self: "Erm, not that I'm aware of..."
Woman: "Really? Do you have a brother at all?"
Self: "No ma'am. Not at all."
Woman: "Really? Because we know this guy Nick, and he's got an older brother, and we thought you were him."
Self: "Oh, really? Umm..."
Woman: "I mean, we've never actually seen Nick's older brother. But we know he has one."
Self: "Ah."
Man: [now speaking for the first time] "Yeah, and- and his mannerisms, and his facial expressions, and his- his hair" [having developed something of a stutter, no doubt to my astounding similarity to Nick]
Woman: "Oh, yes. Exactly like him. Uncanny.'
Self: "Oh. Strange."
Woman: "Are you sure you don't have a brother?"
At this point, the conversation more or less took on a loop, beginning with the part where the man talks, and then repeating until the end. This goes on for about five minutes, at which point I am able to tear myself away from the couple, only to be informed by my manager that the woman had previously yelled at him due to her concerns about cholesterol or some such in her meal.
Following work, Joe and myself went to Kenny Mango's, meeting a few friends. A guitarist/singer was there, doing excellent cover work. He covered some Clapton, and some Beatles, and even managed to squeeze in the Mario song... or all of the Mario songs, really. We were the last to leave, having a lengthy conversation with the chap on the finer points of music, guitar, and life in general. A good time was had by all.
Well, LJ, I'm pretty tired from all the working and driving and blogging and whatnot.
Keep it classy, LJ,
Hamilton
It's been a while. Today was a strange day.
First, I got all excited to get my new pickups installed. After almost half a year of waiting, I finally got the money to order them and now my guitar is going to sound like pure bliss. However, the Fret Shop wanted to charge me 50-60 dollars to change them out. I know, right? Ridiculous. So I think to myself, "Hey, self, maybe the Railroad Bazaar will cut you (me) a deal." So I drive down to the RB... and they want 75 for it.
Preposterous! Unbelievable! Utterly stupendous!
Having found no solution to my problem, I went to work, where a few friends offered to change them out for me... for free. A long, mostly uneventful night followed, the only highlight being that one couple beckoned me to them, and, skipping the usual pleasantries, launched into the conversation that follows:
Woman: "What's your name?"
Self: [somewhat hesitantly] "Uh... Hamilton."
Woman: "What's your last name?"
Self: [now quite hesitantly] "Henson..."
Woman: "Do you have a brother named Nick?"
Self: "Erm, not that I'm aware of..."
Woman: "Really? Do you have a brother at all?"
Self: "No ma'am. Not at all."
Woman: "Really? Because we know this guy Nick, and he's got an older brother, and we thought you were him."
Self: "Oh, really? Umm..."
Woman: "I mean, we've never actually seen Nick's older brother. But we know he has one."
Self: "Ah."
Man: [now speaking for the first time] "Yeah, and- and his mannerisms, and his facial expressions, and his- his hair" [having developed something of a stutter, no doubt to my astounding similarity to Nick]
Woman: "Oh, yes. Exactly like him. Uncanny.'
Self: "Oh. Strange."
Woman: "Are you sure you don't have a brother?"
At this point, the conversation more or less took on a loop, beginning with the part where the man talks, and then repeating until the end. This goes on for about five minutes, at which point I am able to tear myself away from the couple, only to be informed by my manager that the woman had previously yelled at him due to her concerns about cholesterol or some such in her meal.
Following work, Joe and myself went to Kenny Mango's, meeting a few friends. A guitarist/singer was there, doing excellent cover work. He covered some Clapton, and some Beatles, and even managed to squeeze in the Mario song... or all of the Mario songs, really. We were the last to leave, having a lengthy conversation with the chap on the finer points of music, guitar, and life in general. A good time was had by all.
Well, LJ, I'm pretty tired from all the working and driving and blogging and whatnot.
Keep it classy, LJ,
Hamilton