I love the guitar. I love to create on my guitar. I love to feel it in my hands. To play it, to explore it—to feel those luscious vibrations flow throw my body. In unison, arrhythmic, fast and slow. It’s quite a thing. It’s a rollercoaster ride of excitement, exhaustion, innovation and even anguish. As I explore the blues (Chicago style, southern and standard) I am discovering bits and bobs about myself (subsequently my playing) that I’d never noticed before.
The thing about me is that I love being free. Although I’d like to think of myself as somewhat a methodical person, I’ve never been the kind to just want to live in that boring brown box. It’s no coincidence that I am often seen as the quirky/weird friend. That one with the sweet tea and guitar who loves nothing more than to explore literature, passion and love through music and the arts.
I can pick away at notes and create my own melodies completely losing my reality for just that moment in time. Even when I get frustrated with it, even when it seems like our relationship is getting nowhere me and Jimmy Ray just never seem to quit each other.