Guitar Stories

There’s this old tree stump out in the woods behind my house that I love to sit on. I first found it, at least, twenty years ago and sitting there has brought me much enjoyment for many seasons. When one takes the time to look, there are many wonders constantly taking place in the forest.Parts of the stump are long since rotted away, but there’s enough of the heart left to afford me a good place to sit and ponder the comp...

I bought a guitar on Friday. This is no ordinary, straight out-of-the-box, ready to play thing. Nope, it’s knackered. I bought a knackered guitar? Why the buggeration? Well, because I wanted the challenge of fixing it up. It has no electronics, no bridge, no scratch plate and the machine heads are really loose. The neck is in good shape, but the paintwork on the body is shoddy. I plan on upgrading as much as I can and kee...

Pick up your guitar and pick up your pickPlay me a melody, make it real slickI'll try to find words to make it a songTo tell our girls that our love is so strongThat it could make us fly without even one wingYes, that is the song that I would like to sing

(First verse) I never understood your reasoning to make me feel worthless I never understood what went through your mind every time you weren't there  Did you ever stop and think before you acted See how this would have affected me (Chorus)  Why don't you see what you put me through Why don't you see when I stand here and cry Why don't you see everything I go through Oh, I forgot it because you don't care (Second verse) ...

Something strange happened... Some time this week. Time has bled so much, I can’t tell what day it is, or what I’m doing much, apart from a peach fuzzy sort of fuzz. Buzz. Probably the lack of sleeping causing all the buzzy fuzz, but that’s not my point. I’ll get to my point in a moment, but first some background. Background is important to this story, musing, whatever. Writing piece, we shall call it. I love guitars, of...

Capodastra: A small movable bar placed across the fingerboard of a guitar or similar instrument so as to raise the pitch of all the strings uniformly. If a thing can call, then it called. Or maybe he just happened to be standing in the right place relative to the thing and the sun. The clouds played a part too, opening at exactly the right time to allow the photons through. The packets of light completed their eight minut...