Posted by: normanlgreen | October 8, 2011

Dream, October 8, 2011 Eric and the crowded house.

Dream, home, 6:05 am

A party is being thrown in a little bungalow. Attendance is excellent, so all the rooms have been opened to the guests. People are standing in corners of half-lit rooms. The backs of couches and the tops of counters function as chairs for the excited throng. In the main room, a hanging lamp throws a light between rose and amber. People are re-uniting after years apart, and the new friends they bring to meet their old friends are warmly received.

Sitting near a coffee table eighteen inches around, s my old friend Eric, who shares my birthday, a fondness for telling stories, and a compulsion to pick-up guitars. I am so pleased to see him, but use no words to express it. His smile is huge, with even white teeth, an expression so full it pulls his eyes into curved slits. Neither of us says anything about the eighteen-plus years that have passed since we have seen each other, but I wonder what (besides geography) has made the separation so long.

He has two guests, young gentlemen who are his guitar protege. I shake has with these two, but want to talk with Eric. He reaches behind his chair and pulls an inexpensive, nylon string guitar onto his lap. He explains that he picked it up for nothing and that it is unplayable above the first position. Instead of playing it, he hands it to me. I look closely at the warped neck that flares disastrously at the top end, near the sounding hole. The white strings are unevenly spaced but of nearly thee same gauge. Still holding it up to my face and running my thumb across the open strings I discover it is tuned in thirds and have little tension. I start to improvise with slides and slurs – the machine has some buzzes, but I play around with those to interesting effect – something between a guitar and a siitar. I find it easier to play than expected. Eric comps me on a standard six string and it gels nicely. He offers me the funky guitar to keep.


Waking words: the results are a raft of data.


Earworm: Blue Moon of Kentucky


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: