Come, friend, and join me on a journey beyond the Veil, where the stories are told by torchlight and nightmare. Here there is music, crafted to please She-Who-Wanders-The-Forest, provided to you, a jewel upon a gilded shell. This will be so much fun, just as long as you keep your hands and arms inside the ride at all times.
Music gives me center, a place to re-connect with the Ground of My Being. God lives there, in between the notes and phrases and words and sounds, and in those in-between spaces, I find home
I can't really explain it other than by drawing a picture, so... you know how, when you are in the music store looking at some stuff, and in walk those dudes? Those Dudes are, I swear, known to everyone, especially women musicians. They'll take something expensive off the wall, dime the amp, and treat everybody to their rendition of an E major scale. If you are a woman, you'll get treated to their lecherous stare, another run at an E major scale, maybe this time with a bend up an octave, just to show you how good a guitarist they are in the expectation your panties fall off. Then they bitch about a non-existent scratch in said guitar, argue with the storefolks over a discount, all before leaving in a huff because "If they don't want my money,, fine". Yeah. Those walking, talking meatballs of tomato food. That's what frustrates me most as a musician.