Unfortunately, it seldom does so as we'd like. If you'd prefer that every crappy thing that's going to happen to you in 2007 just hit you now & get it over with, forget it. It's going to hang over you like an unstable stalactite all year without you having the first idea as to which calamity the last one will be, right up until 12:59 on December 31. Even then, there's still another minute during which to grind your teeth, thus furthering the income of the dental industry. These people are in alliance with the psychiatrists; the more aggravating life is, the more money both parties make from chewn-down teeth and minds. We are relatively powerless to prevent this, too. Perhaps Scientologists don't believe in dentistry, either, but my bet is that that midget Tom Cruise didn't get that set of choppers from any aliens, and let's see him get along without that cosmetic dentist he's had a deep and personal relationship with all these years.
But, I digress.
Sometimes a couple of good things will hit back-to-back; indeed, this is the place in which I find myself now. The afforementioned play which was making my presence here scarce ended yesterday, and was a good bit of fun. Well, no break for the Eye Wit this time (though actors generally don't care for breaks, since it means not getting paid), but a change of hats, as it were (though I haven't decided whether to wear a hat or not). I'll be playing guitar & such in the pit band for a production of Godspell. Now my mother can avert her eyes in shame when asked about her younger son (for such, I am) and what he does twice. First for "He's an actor...." and then again for "....and a rock musician."
Nah, she doesn't do that. She's pretty well adjusted to it, thanks to some soothing medication that she got, oddly, from her dentist. Occasionally, the conspiracy mixes itself up.
So, out come at least three of the guitars & the mandolin for some action. I'm sure my neighbors will appreciate the return of the strains of my electric guitar. Actually, it won't be straining at all; plug that sucker in, and there it goes. It's the neighbors who'll feel the strain, especially when I'm practicing my lead lines, or "riffs" as they are also called. I admit to not being terribly proficient at that; I'm not a lead guitarist, so I have to practice my lead lines. I can think of them, but my fingers don't seem to have the right connections to just play whatever rapid-fire barrage of notes I conceive. Either that, or I just never practiced doing it enough. The latter seems likely, as I'm self-taught on every instrument I play, and playing lead is the hardest thing about guitartistry. Without an instructor or dentist to threaten me into it, I guess I took the easy way out. My excuse? "I'm a lead singer, so asking me to play lead guitar at the same time is unreasonable." That actually holds water with people.... if I'm actually singing. Playing in the band robs me of that excuse, ergo the practice.
Say, I wonder if my doctor, in defiance of the conspiracy, can give me a medication that'll make me a better lead guitarist? I've asked him crazier things than that....
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