Thursday, December 16, 2010

About my guitar playing

It was last September when I joined the guitar class. All I could play after that was, ‘Happy Birthday’ & 2-3 other tunes from some famous movies. I stopped attending after two months & practiced at home. It wasn’t until last month that I managed to play the guitar with more ease than before. Initially, I practiced those 2-3 stupid tunes, but later, as I got better at playing it, I started to pluck strings randomly & then it all started.
            I played it my way. I let my mind command my fingers. Now, my ears analyze what I play & mentally suggest a change if required. Though I’m still a newbie; I’ve improved my guitar-playing a lot.
            It gradually became my passion, to take the guitar, play it according to my mood & compose a new tune. Depending on my mood, I play differently & form different kind of riffs. I started to write those small melodies in a notebook. I was happy that I could play the guitar in a way that reflects the state of my mind. Those riffs which I worked out sound pretty neat & fine, but I never felt proud.
            But, one day, I felt like playing my favourite bands' songs on my guitar. Google helped me get tabs of songs. Then I felt proud of the fact that I could play almost same. That was lame. I drove away from my own creativity. After a while, I decided to be innovative again & to work out my own tunes.
            Today, I’m sitting with my guitar beside me & there's a piece of paper in front of me, which has notation of a freshly composed riff. When I played it over & over again, I got excited & happy. This riff is the best one I’ve ever created. When I compared my work with songs by all those artists out there I felt confident, because, what I’ve created, sounds just great and if I keep practicing this way, I will get better. Now I feel better & can enjoy the originality as well. . .

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Only shirt of a lonely jerk. . .

Only shirt of a lonely jerk knows how bad it is to be alone,
because shirt was always there, when he used to moan

He's not a jerk actually, but people call him that,
his shirt's the only one, with whom he used to chat

People around him, think they are the best,
'I'm not that good' he says, but he's just being modest

They don't respect him, they call him 'underdog',
his shirt's the only thing, you can find on his blog

Yes he has a blog, but nobody even knows,
strange how, on his shirt once, there was a rose

They don't consider him ever, when they are having fun,
he's always far away, his shirt now has a gun

Nobody gave a damn, they didn't see any danger,
already depressed, he has become a puppet of anger

How wrong they are, to think he's still shy,
now he's on a killing spree, ya'll gonna die

He's behind bars now, still he can't suppress a smirk,
because he still has his only shirt, a lonely shirt of a lonely jerk. . .


Sun is going down. . . :(