Yibber Yabber

My roommate, Dawn, is learning to play my electric guitar. She’s sitting on my futon, going through a Beatles playbook and teaching herself chords. I figure that when she gets it all down pat then she’ll be able to teach me. I got the guitar as Christmas present from my father. Lovely idea. I was just as excited to receive the gift as my dad was to give it. Unfortunately, my worst fears were borne out; the guitar has only been produced from its case (maybe) a dozen times in the last six months. This is the problem with with finally receiving something that you’d always wanted: what do you do when you finally get it? But now Dawn is here; she’ll be staying with me until the end of the summer. Being that she’s a great musician, I’ve told her that she has to learn my guitar so that, as I mentioned before, she can teach me. That seems fair, right? Good, I thought so too.

The guitar isn’t top of the line or anything. It’s a Behringer iAxe 393 and it came in a kit with DVD tutorial, which I have had little patience for, and an amp, which I’ve yet to even plug in. I look at the guitar when it’s sitting quietly in the corner, zippered into its black canvas case, and I feel a mingling of shame and pride; shame that I’ve not yet begun to learn, pride that I just might someday be a really cool guy who can play electric guitar. Yeah, I can see myself. I’m in my little sailboat, which I don’t own yet, and I’m sailing down to Brazil. Along the way, I stop off in Havana and I take my guitar with me into town. I sit on a busy street corner and I begin to play. What will it be? Something by Bright Eyes, like Landlocked Blues? Or will it be something by The Beatles, like I Should Have Known Better? Whatever it will be, the people will stop for a moment to watch the crazy gringo play and maybe a few will toss some coins in the broad brimmed hat that’s resting by my feet. Yeah, that’s a dream of mine.

But then reality sets in.

When am I going to learn to play guitar? How will I ever be able to afford a sailboat, much less sail it down to Brazil? Right now I’m struggling to maintain a full-time temp job at a publishing house. My bills are steep, my loans are enough to make a crocodile cry real tears and I haven’t been sailing since I was sixteen. To make matters worse, I don’t even swim very well.

It’s difficult not to get snared by fanciful dreams. But then, all dreams are fanciful until we make them happen.

By Christopher F. Lapinel, The Diamond Spade

The Beatles, Dawn Zahra, Bright Eyes, Guitar, Electric, Behringer, iAxe 393, Dream, Dreams, Dreaming, Brazil, Cuba, Busquing, Sailing, Sail, Boat

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