"Life Wasted"

It's back!

The new Musician's Friend catalog arrived in our malbox this week. Ever since I was at least 13, I've spent more time perusing the pages of this glossy rag with more lust in my eyes than if I were...well, my mom reads this blog so let's just leave it at that, hmmm?

Connor is getting a kick out of it, too. He likes the pictures of all the guitars, drums, pianos, keyboards and other sundry musical gear. He can even point out my guitar and has gotten nearly as much enjoyment out of the photos of the exorbitantly priced items as I have — well, not exactly, but he does dig it.

Ever since the arrival of this faithful companion, I've been loath to get anything meaningful accomplished around the house. Seeing page upon page of guitars has inspired me to play mine moreso than normal and stay up way too late visiting random guitar messageboards and websites, gleaning as much information as possible about vintage pickups, wiring schemes and repair techniques.

The sink is full of dirty dishes, I haven't showered in two days, and I think Stacey's noticing that I'm spending more time with my guitar than her.

This is essentially a very long way for me to say that I've nothing to write about tonight, unless you want to debate the differences between '61 and '62 Gibson SGs.

Now, if you'll pardon me, there's someone demanding my attention at the moment...