I knew this day would come and even though it wasn’t a surprise it still slapped me hard. I was actually aware of slightly overstepping or nonchalantly abusing the situation by overlooking the issue all this time, but I had a purpose and purposes have this rare ability to bestow anybody’s criteria or convictions with what seems to be an ideal elasticity. Whether it is a matter of torture and bloodshed, like in a purist revolution of some sort, or some type of illegality like stealing a car to get to Frisco because you have a great novel to write, if you have a purpose, people will say: “well, at least he/she’s doing something.” The elasticity metaphor can be extended here a little bit more for it is the case that a stressed elastic body will eventually give in by either wearing its original integrity and resistance out or by breaking. In other words being elastic gets tiring. People will eventually come to terms and they’ll begin realizing that you are a rootless and oppressive dictator or just another romantically driven thief that can bullshit with style or, as it is my case, just somebody who has kept a guitar a little longer than expected. And so the call came. I overheard because the speaker in the phone was too loud and so before the message was given to me I was left staring blankly into the void in a limbo between the actual and the possible and, frankly, quite saddened. They’ll be picking it up tomorrow and I’ll be…well: guitarless to say the least. And well, to say the most: down, idle and occasionally even wildly distraught.
I’ve been thinking about the busking a great deal. I was to restart precisely tomorrow and now I have to rethink the whole deal. I guess I can stop and wait a few weeks so that I can buy myself an extremely inexpensive acoustic guitar that suits that capo I got for the holidays. Or (insert visuals of a nervous but exited smirk) I can try to busk in the meantime with another instrument and see how that works. I know I can’t move that 1974 Wurlitzer organ even an inch, so that is out of the question. Besides, I don’t know how to play it, I use it as a tuner. But besides the organ, a drum set and a violin we also own a little Turkish drum that I purchased in Istanbul and which used to accompany me in my hitch-hiking trips through central Mexico. I also busked with it a few times in Juarez when I was younger, I can try it again. I guess it’ll take me maybe three or four days to come up with at least a few decent patterns so that I don’t drive people crazy with the same drum beat for hours. Wish me luck. Or wish me a guitar, any will do.
I just know she’ll miss it.