There is irony in the fact that I'm the only in my family who doesn't know how to play a musical instrument. I've often said it's because I lack the ability. However, I don't think that's quite right. In fact, I think it's a bleed-over of lack of patience from my adolescence.
What? I'm not able to play like Jimi Hendrix or Slash straight away? Well, fuck! I must lack talent.
And that self-imposed stigma stuck for well over twenty years...
I have lost track of how many times I've been asked if I'm a musician, what instrument I must play, or the name of my band. Seriously. All on account of the fact I have long hair, some tattoos, and a few trinkets. A judgment made based strictly on my appearance, and assumptions like that are a sickness.
Of course my father's convinced I have the ability if I'd just set my mind to it. He tells me I need to get over being self-conscious. Almost every time we talk, this somehow comes up.
"No child of mine is without musical ability," he says. "And especially not the first of my loins."
Well, lately, I've wondered. Even kicked around the idea. Apparently, when I decide I want to do something, it seems the only thing that prevents me from doing it is if I decide I no longer want it. At least that's the general observation. Although, it is said generalizations can be dangerous. Even and especially this one.
I could covet the banjo I got for my companion a few years back, since we're both left-handed, but that would be impolite. A guitar springs to mind. It would be kind of fun to do acoustic blues. I could even fashion a slide from a wine bottle's neck. With a guitar, if I learned, I could go to the locos jam and do more than just watch, even though I like to watch.
However, I guitar is not really speaking to me. Neither is a banjo. What does is a sitar.
Yes, a sitar. I'm sure one of my oldest and dearest friends would say this is a case of me being different just to be different, and sometimes I just can't help myself. Although I'd could mention George Harrison played the Sitar, and I like cats like Prem Joshua and the elder and daughter Shankar.
Here's the one I want;
Only four-hundred fifty in paper-yes, I rounded up. I have already let my daughter know that Father's Day is coming up, and this is on the list. She gets an allowance, after all. The prospect does intrigue me, even if I don't have the paper for it.
Well, not yet...