I am by no means a talented guitarist, although after more than six full months of trying I can report that I have indeed been making progress. Maddeningly-slow-make-you-question-the-whole-thing progress, but progress nonetheless.
I love to twang the strings and hear them resonate. I love to palpate my fingertips and worry at my hardening calluses. I love to sub-vocalize the name of a note only to find my fingers on the strings in the (mostly!) correct position. I’ve come to hate my all too weak and bendy ring finger but can’t help but be inordinately pleased those few times it comes perfectly into line without the least bit of wheedling. I even love the stupid evil what-the-hell-could-they-have-been-thinking F-Major; the barred five-string chord from hell! Continue reading