Those scrounged up pennies accompanied by clusters of lint particles, they are my breakfast. The popular duet of nickel and dime repeatedly plunging to the depths of my ragged top hat, they offer lunch. The quarters and Washington’s are what make a meal. Whether it is elegant dinning or a grocery supplied fruit, dinner is my favorite hour of day. The company is gracious and my presence is welcomed by friends, families and couples alike. People are laughing and smiling galore; intrigued, enchanted and celebrating their very existence in this world reassures a man that he is, in fact, doing his job.
I regret my decisions at times, what sane person wouldn’t? I lay awake allowing my mind to wander and wonder what would of happened if I hadn’t given up- if I hadn’t stopped caring. My life was different then, I was a different man who made different, immature decisions without a thought of the repercussions. The off the chart repercussions that rattled me right out of my world. Those repercussions that damaged my thoughts so extravagantly, so permanently; God I wish the seismometer detected those waves. Life would be different now, except I would still…love… dinner time.
These cords callous the heads of my fingers. They squeal with each slide of a finger; they squeal whether intentional or not. When strummed gentle vibrations tickle the ear of hopeful listeners that sit, intently searching for the next note. A sudden force from above the cord’s surface causes the string and its harness to collide. Waves of sound tumble through the air, harmonizing, blending and coordinating with the other keys floating bye.
My guitar is all that’s remained consistent in my life. The consistent sound, the consistent feel, the consistent comfort and joy- it is all I need to survive. I enjoy the joy I bring to my audience; it makes me happy to see them happy. They say each time you laugh you add a year to your life; I’m aiming for 120 at least. My secret, I laugh every time I smile. It brings me warmth in the winter and cool calmness in the summer. It makes my mistakes bearable for the day, and less daunting at night. The music, the laughter; it all makes the difference for a guy like me. It’s the difference between hunger and a full tummy, and the difference between comfort and distress.
My guitar is my rock. The rhythm it generates, my lifeline. It pulls me in when I drift off and away, and lets me loose when I need an escape. They put the food in my mouth, fueling me up for another long day. They put the breakfast change in my hat; they put the couples in their dark depths; they put the meal makers where I enjoy them most. When the day is rough and the moral is down, I will not beg for these pieces. My pride is what fuels my fire; I have the pride to accept things as they are whether good or bad. I will not beg, even if dinner is still my favorite time.
I regret my decisions at times, what sane person wouldn’t? I lay awake allowing my mind to wander and wonder what would of happened if I hadn’t given up- if I hadn’t stopped caring. My life was different then, I was a different man who made different, immature decisions without a thought of the repercussions. The off the chart repercussions that rattled me right out of my world. Those repercussions that damaged my thoughts so extravagantly, so permanently; God I wish the seismometer detected those waves. Life would be different now, except I would still…love… dinner time.
These cords callous the heads of my fingers. They squeal with each slide of a finger; they squeal whether intentional or not. When strummed gentle vibrations tickle the ear of hopeful listeners that sit, intently searching for the next note. A sudden force from above the cord’s surface causes the string and its harness to collide. Waves of sound tumble through the air, harmonizing, blending and coordinating with the other keys floating bye.
My guitar is all that’s remained consistent in my life. The consistent sound, the consistent feel, the consistent comfort and joy- it is all I need to survive. I enjoy the joy I bring to my audience; it makes me happy to see them happy. They say each time you laugh you add a year to your life; I’m aiming for 120 at least. My secret, I laugh every time I smile. It brings me warmth in the winter and cool calmness in the summer. It makes my mistakes bearable for the day, and less daunting at night. The music, the laughter; it all makes the difference for a guy like me. It’s the difference between hunger and a full tummy, and the difference between comfort and distress.
My guitar is my rock. The rhythm it generates, my lifeline. It pulls me in when I drift off and away, and lets me loose when I need an escape. They put the food in my mouth, fueling me up for another long day. They put the breakfast change in my hat; they put the couples in their dark depths; they put the meal makers where I enjoy them most. When the day is rough and the moral is down, I will not beg for these pieces. My pride is what fuels my fire; I have the pride to accept things as they are whether good or bad. I will not beg, even if dinner is still my favorite time.
I find your story to be very inspiring, as in it tells you to do what you love no matter how crazy the idea is. Music in general creates happiness, and your short story really shows that.
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