Anyway, it's a Springsteen kind of day, because I bought my new guitar today. It's not the Telecaster I was thinking of getting, because while walking through the guitar store across the street from work (which makes getting home from work everyday an exercise in self-control) and there was this guitar that just called to me and said, "Buy me..." Now, if a Telecaster had sang that siren-song to me, I would have immediately dropped my money on the counter and said, "Hix Brother, get that guitar off the wall!" but it wasn't the Telly I went in to even consider buying.
So, after doing a bit of research and checking out some customer testimonials, I went back to the guitar store to see if it would still call me, or if it was some kind of slut that was going to call everyone until some random guy picked her up, had his way with her and never talked to her again. Rather satisfyingly, no one was even looking in her general direction, as they were all content to look at Fenders and Gibsons and Deans and the occasional Godin. But not me. No, only I wanted this one:
It plays pretty much how it looks: Like the bastard child of a Parker Fly that was fucking around with a Telecaster backstage at the Grammys. I totally dig it, although I'm going to have to get used to a new guitar neck now. In any case, it's yet another necessary step toward starting my Springsteen cover band, which will happen just as soon as I turn thirty. By then, I'll have a new amp that doesn't sound like complete and total crap.Unfortunately, there are logistical issues that need to be taken into account when I start the band, most notably the fact that there aren't any venues in the area for a full-size E Street Band, so you have to make decisions over who to cut. I mean, you have to decide whether you want to keep Nils Lofgren or Little Stevie, but then you absolutely need to have a bass player, a drummer, and Clarence Clemmons. And with specific regard to my band, the exclusion of Patti Scialfa isn't an option, because I find chicks with guitars to be absurdly hot. I mean, I almost bought Prey for Rock & Roll on DVD last night, which features Gina Gershon playing guitar; it doesn't get any better than that. Actually, it does, but I didn't have the Independent Film Channel when her show was on, and I'm still pissed that I didn't go to her show at the House of Blues.
But now I'm going to watch a movie, because I pretty well shredded the fingers on my left hand from playing earlier. It's either going to be Ghost in the Shell 2, Stuck on You, Confidence, or A Mighty Wind. I'm thinking Stuck on You, simply because I don't want to do any thinking, and a movie with the following dialogue can't possibly be much of a challenge:
Setup: Greg Kinnear and Matt Damon are conjoined twins. Kinnear is doing a crossword:
Greg Kinnear: Hey, what's a four-letter word for "snatch"?
Matt Damon: ... Grab.
Greg Kinnear: Oh, right...!
*Kinnear starts erasing the four-letter word for "snatch" he'd written already*
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