After my work was accomplished for the day - including a mid-day, eight hour nap - I looked over at my lonely guitar and remembered one last to-do for the day. During my insomniatic night yesterday I laid my guitar on my chest while staring at the ceiling. Too tired to play a song but not tired enough to sleep, I brushed the strings and closed my eyes to the muted tones.

Eventually I hit a few consecutive notes that struck my fancy. Without a care for my slumber I jumped up and wrote out the progression and melody. Within a few minutes I had a few temporary lyrics and a satisfied musical heart. It sounds egotistical to enjoy the music of your own making, but I suppose it's really God who makes the music in the first place. It wasn't so much that the chords and notes sounded good, it was in the way it was played... almost percussively strummed. I wrote a few notes about the song before I left for the day and forgot about it till seeing my guitar again this evening.

I took a moment to remember how the song was played and let my fingers drift across the string. It sucked. I couldn't get it to sound the way it did the other night. I played around with it a bit and then with a frown put the guitar back in it's place. Since I first picked a guitar six or seven years ago it's always been the same. Some days it feels like the guitar is another extremity from my body; without sounding full of myself, it sounds great. But then other times it would seem that I had never played before. I wonder if the song I played when I had no sleep was just a memory. Could I have been so tired that it only seemed good? I hope not, but I don't think I'll get it right again to find out.

Posted in: on Monday, February 04, 2008 at at 1:35 AM