GOT A BEAT UP SIX STRING , AT THE SECOND HAND STORE.

GOT A BEAT UP SIX STRING , AT THE SECOND HAND STORE................the year 2000 , a magical gateway to a new century , video phones and flying cars and where would I be , as a child I thought about this in some detail. how old will I be in 2000?? On the doorway of 40 (that's pretty damned old!! , "what will I look like? I had mental images of a dashingly handsome man, never imagining a wheelchair pirate. "what will I do for a living?" , rock star of course!"who will I marry?" a wonderful woman able to balance a rock star marriage , a family , a career at victoria's secret "will I have kids"?yup , smart serious ones , not rock band hooligans !, robot servants , you know George Jetson with long hair. I wondered about these things and although fame eluded me and the jack sparrow on wheels thing happened , I did realize some of it , a house full of guitars , a beautiful wife who rolls her eyes at the suggestion of lingerie modelling , my kids are brilliant and well adjusted musical hooligans , no robots , no flying cars no jetsons. while my young brain pondered these many questions I did already have some future info, I knew exactly what I wanted my voice to sound like , like a big throaty guitar , a beat up ol Les Paul of a voice and I spent the next few decades training that voice , learning to speak with my hands , building my vocabulary , the guitar helping me survive the rigors of teenage existance , my psychiatrist in a case , it was a part of my identity , my soul , my value, giving voice to the tumbling emotions within and then 2014 , in a moment just inside the entryway of the shining new Jetson century it was taken from me , 45 years of training snatched away , the conduit to me feelings my identity , my voice , floating out there in strokeland somewhere, I would usually refer to the years learning to play in a more lyrical way like "the struggle or walking the path " but I was just a selfish , brooding kid who wanted to be very loud, July 2014 was when the stroke (not the struggle ) happened, it was another thing I put in alot of time working on , I earned what happened to me.my left side was paralyzed taking my ability to walk and play away from me, my voice was paralyzed and I found myself thinking alot about the friends who fell on the path to our future stardom , almost envying the way their journeys were cut so short and so finally , mine however still lives , packed away in a trunk in the attic of my damaged brain and covered in dust but the desire , the want , the notes and lyrics are still firing on all cylinders , but my ability to make them surface and breathe is gone.   I'm up the creek with a paralyzed paddle. I can't play vicariously through my kids , they are all moving out and onward and the only hand I have left is the one I spent years training to open beers and raise the middle finger in salute , the need to express this part of my self is such that my beautiful wife who has no interest in playing guitar at all , recently took on re-stringing one of the many axes around here from right hand to left so that I could attempt to use my right hand only to hammer on the neck and make my soul healing noise "important note to any kids out there , when picturing that future wife , go for love over lingerie , courage over corsets"...better yet , go for both ! and so here I sit a less than dashing pirate on wheels right back to where I was at 8 years old , wanting desperately to play guitar , to sound that way , loud , raw and pure, mean and throaty, bright and soaring , so if you come across me out there my fellow wanderers along side a dilapidated former highway in a battered and dusty old limo , a long haired skeleton in back grinning away , surrounded by lingerie and implants , dont tell me , I dont meed to know , just blow the dust off the old cherry burst and crack open that dusty bottle of jack.....play on my friends it can vanish in a split second....GO LOUD !!!!..Phil.