Pure Country

I had a funny little kids guitar. It was only a little kids guitar in this culture where we give little kids a lot of crap that doesn’t work very well. Other places kids get beautiful instruments, well built but tinnier.

Anyways I had a funny little guitar with thick plastic strings that could not have held a tune if it were a bucket covered in super glue. I had written my first country and western song on this guitar. I suffer from an extraordinary ego and so my first country song was making fun of Johnny Cash, calling him out for never having been to prison except to play shows, while I talked about broken hearts and drinking a lot.

It was a good country song.

He was a very drunk country star who moonlighted as a line cook. I really liked to hang out with him when he was blacked out. I had just gotten sober and it was comforting. It was a lot of pressure for a person like me to be around sober people who were checked in all the time. Sometimes a guy just needed to have her emotional landscape ignored.

So sometimes I hung out in his smoke filled room on his filthy mattress and watched Pure Country staring George Straight while he puked and cried and yelled and sang and passed out (not necessarily in that order).

One night I tried to play him my one song but my hands were shaking so much that it didn’t really work out.

He must have thought it was the guitar and not my nerves because he gave me a 3/4 sized acoustic guitar shortly there after. This guitar sounds like angels singing and shaky hands just make it better.

I call my guitar Goldie. I gave away the other one to a teenager who was running out of surfaces to paint faeries on.

Goldie is red with age and chewed on ever edge (she has edges where other guitars might not even know edges are possible). The silver around her pegs looks like spurs.

There is a perfect round hole broken out of the back from where his ex girlfriend stomped her stilletto through it in a blind rage.

He said he felt that that hole was where he was pulled into the music.

When I play Goldie I feel it. ..pure country.

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About iknowyouknowmyheart

Ever Tried. Ever Failed. No Matter. Try Again, Fail Again, Fail Better -Beckett Here I am right over there, running into opportunities to stop running and hoping they keep my scent until my prayers are answered and I am brave enough to slow down.

Posted on May 27, 2013, in blessings, country music, friends, love, sobriety, true stories. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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