Why Helloooo, Left Hand Fingertips

A few years ago, when I lived in Lexington, KY, I worked at the 'Zon for something like 70 hours per week. Most of my time at the 'Zon was spent answering email, checking inventory discrepancies, and firing people who consumed a LOT of tobacco products. It wasn't exactly a happy time in my life.

The one good thing that came from that experience was that, when I wasn't working, I was playing guitar. I didn't have much of a social life (never have, actually), so my waking hours at home were generally spent picking around on my Taylor or Stratocaster. A guitar was always nearby in my apartment and I got this weird giddy feeling whenever I picked one up; I was excited to play each and every time I played. I got pretty good for a bit there, especially my fingerpicking, and for a few brief hours in the summer of 2002 I could improv blues solos with something resembling soul and technical competence.

Those days are long gone.

When I came back to school my guitars and banjo all went into storage. Sure, I eventually pulled them out of storage and into my dorm room, but that only served to relocate the place in which they were stored. Long story short, I was too damn busy to play guitar on a regular basis.

Now that summer has arrived at the 7200 and yours truly doesn't have a whole lot going on, I decided to restring my Telecaster and Stratocaster, polish 'em up a little bit, and start playing again. The strings were crusty and nasty, the fretboards gummy, and years-old smudges covered the bodies. After an hour or two of TLC they look damn good now, but my skills are way, way behind.

I ran some blues scales last night and plinked around on some open chords. I played through a few Dylan and Dead songs and tried to sing - with the remnants of a wicked head/chest cold still playing havoc on my voice.

This morning my left had fingertips are a little sore, but that giddy feeling of having a guitar around is back.