the december i turned 19, my parents bought me a guitar. the boy i had die-hard-edly had a crush on during my first semester of college [pratt institute, brooklyn, ny, 2000], and, for better or for worse, for about a year thereafter, had taught me my first two chords. [drum role for the irony that is coming, please] e minor and a minor…
sad, sadder, sad. that was the sound of strumming at first.
the first song i learned to play was dar williams’ “iowa”.
[…i’ve never found a way to say i love you, but if the chance came by, oh i, i would…]
this song made use of my primal e minor skills, while adding on two new chords: c and g major. [thank you heather strout, andover, nj, 2001]
when i came to paris, i decided to leave my guitar, a seagull made in canada, in new jersey with my parents, not willing to allow that first guitar of mine to face the risk of airport handling.
i have been in paris now for two and a half months, and just yesterday i went shopping for a paris guitar. i found one i’d buy, but left it behind, knowing a large purchase feels better after it has macerated some time. it is better to lay the money down for something that feels like it already belongs to you, than for something that feels like it could.