Guitars, handsomeness and Glorious Liverpool
A big "Hi" to you while you wile away time in your office/house/interminable life!
I've just seen that I have followers of this blog, which is quite an exciting thing! Yes, you guessed it, my life is pretty dull. So, an extra special "Ciao" to them.
Today's post is being squeezed in between playing guitar and a telephone lesson in 40 minutes, so I'll try to keep it brief. I normally try to do that though, so I fully expect to fail in my goal. I'm quite the ray of sunshine today, so hopefully I'll shine some of my rays into the basements of your existence. Last time round this particular block I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, but that's all changed. Undoubtedly no person has ever suffered quite as much as I had, but it's amazing what gallons of coffee, sunshine and football can do for a boy.
First up on today's menu is a delicious appetiser about my music. Lately I've mostly been playing guitar like a madman: wildly thrashing about at the strings and slavering all over the floor, and finally it seems to have started paying dividends, as I can now say with a degree of pride, and no small degree of boasting, that I have now mastered which way round you hold the infernal thing. This mastered, I've also now written 6 songs which are not entirely terrible. A good chum of mine, Fra, is a proper good guitar player (naturally left-handed, but taught himself to play right-handed, which in total disregard to the meaning of words, repeatedly blows my admittedly tiny mind), and has a few bands and all that good stuff. He told me that he couldn't get one of my songs out of his head. He then added "in a good way", which was nice to hear, as I don't want to be the musical equivalent of a tumour, as there's already enough of that.
I'm not particularly good with motivating myself (please ignore this if you're a potential employer) and finishing things so it's nice to feel like I'm getting somewhere. I'd really like to try and record an EP before summer, so in this spirit I downloaded an app for my iPod (it's still hanging on with the help of sellotape) called Garageband. Being hip, worldly people, I'm sure you already know what this is, but it's caused a lot of frustration, as although I can record on to it, I then can't transfer the track on to my computer to mess about with and edit. Either I, or Garageband for the iPod, are bloody stupid. I also made the mistake of going to a guitar shop the other day, and so now I have my greedy eyes on a nice acoustic/electric Yamaha. And hey, it's my birthday soon, so I think I know what I'm getting myself, in lieu of you lot sending me anything, as my previous repeated pathetic requests (say those last four words quickly, I dares ya) for charity have been met with stony silence. Also, maybe a tattoo or two, but guitar first I reckon.
As a below-par main course, I'll now regale you with a tale of how bloody handsome I am. The other night I went to the bar where they always know my name (or at least can describe me, which in Italy ain't so hard, seen as most of the natives are dwarfy and dark haired), La Lepre. Minding my own at the bar with previously mentioned chum, Fra, a woman (she tumbled out of the 'girl' category some years ago) came up to him and told him that we (I read this as 'me') were the two most handsome guys in the place. Of course, she was right and has excellent eye-sight and taste, but then she destroyed her just-won credibility by asking immediately what our star signs were. As any right-minded person knows, star signs are a load of bollocks. To suggest that purely due to the fluke of being born in April, I have in something in common with other people is mental. Ok, so Leonard Nemoy's surname is similarish to mine, and apart from the fact that Timothy Dalton (presumably) also has male re-productive organs, we are very much like whatever is the opposite of chalk. Google tells me that other famous Aries include: Aretha Franklin and Marcel Marceau. I'm neither a famous singer (yet) nor a dead mime artist (again, yet). I have been to America, and also own a horizontally striped jumper and not so hot with the words, but I think these links are tenuous. Needless to say, much sidling away and not meeting eyes was done in the immediate aftermath of our meeting.
And now, for the lip-smacking dessert, or to give it's full title, "The bit where I talk about football". Genoa continue to infuriate, so instead I'll turn my attention towards the greatest team in English football history and now 8-time winners of the League Cup: the mighty, the imperious, the one and only, Liverpool. Yesterday we won the League Cup, smighting with furious rage the leak-munching bumpkins of Cardiff, 3-2 on penalties. After 120 minutes of pretty dominant play, they gave me a bit of a scare as Charlie Adam auditioned for the Scottish rugby team (could do with a kicker, or whatever egg chasers call that role) by blootering his shot into his adoring public. For the next 3 or 4 minutes I felt sick with worry, really, but in the end was jumping about my kitchen and muffling whoops of joy. I had to stop when the police came to see who was being murdered, but I bid them a good night with a skip on my face and smile in my step. Truly, football is fantastic. It's hard to put into words just how amazing the whole spectacle is, so I won't even try.
And finally, as the cheese and coffee part of your meal (avoid if lactose intolerant or a light sleeper), I feel that I should tell you that I won at bowling a few weeks ago, and I'm also currently top goalscorer at the footy. It's good to be the King.
And, oh, in light of the fact that I've name checked Fra twice (thrice if you count that last time), should also say a big internet-based farewell to Joanna, who is heartlessly abandoning Genoa for a couple of months lording it about in Peru. Lucky her!
Fare thee well also you, dear reader, as I've come to the end of this post and must now go and speak to a student on the phone. The joys.
Chow chow!
I've just seen that I have followers of this blog, which is quite an exciting thing! Yes, you guessed it, my life is pretty dull. So, an extra special "Ciao" to them.
Today's post is being squeezed in between playing guitar and a telephone lesson in 40 minutes, so I'll try to keep it brief. I normally try to do that though, so I fully expect to fail in my goal. I'm quite the ray of sunshine today, so hopefully I'll shine some of my rays into the basements of your existence. Last time round this particular block I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, but that's all changed. Undoubtedly no person has ever suffered quite as much as I had, but it's amazing what gallons of coffee, sunshine and football can do for a boy.
First up on today's menu is a delicious appetiser about my music. Lately I've mostly been playing guitar like a madman: wildly thrashing about at the strings and slavering all over the floor, and finally it seems to have started paying dividends, as I can now say with a degree of pride, and no small degree of boasting, that I have now mastered which way round you hold the infernal thing. This mastered, I've also now written 6 songs which are not entirely terrible. A good chum of mine, Fra, is a proper good guitar player (naturally left-handed, but taught himself to play right-handed, which in total disregard to the meaning of words, repeatedly blows my admittedly tiny mind), and has a few bands and all that good stuff. He told me that he couldn't get one of my songs out of his head. He then added "in a good way", which was nice to hear, as I don't want to be the musical equivalent of a tumour, as there's already enough of that.
I'm not particularly good with motivating myself (please ignore this if you're a potential employer) and finishing things so it's nice to feel like I'm getting somewhere. I'd really like to try and record an EP before summer, so in this spirit I downloaded an app for my iPod (it's still hanging on with the help of sellotape) called Garageband. Being hip, worldly people, I'm sure you already know what this is, but it's caused a lot of frustration, as although I can record on to it, I then can't transfer the track on to my computer to mess about with and edit. Either I, or Garageband for the iPod, are bloody stupid. I also made the mistake of going to a guitar shop the other day, and so now I have my greedy eyes on a nice acoustic/electric Yamaha. And hey, it's my birthday soon, so I think I know what I'm getting myself, in lieu of you lot sending me anything, as my previous repeated pathetic requests (say those last four words quickly, I dares ya) for charity have been met with stony silence. Also, maybe a tattoo or two, but guitar first I reckon.
As a below-par main course, I'll now regale you with a tale of how bloody handsome I am. The other night I went to the bar where they always know my name (or at least can describe me, which in Italy ain't so hard, seen as most of the natives are dwarfy and dark haired), La Lepre. Minding my own at the bar with previously mentioned chum, Fra, a woman (she tumbled out of the 'girl' category some years ago) came up to him and told him that we (I read this as 'me') were the two most handsome guys in the place. Of course, she was right and has excellent eye-sight and taste, but then she destroyed her just-won credibility by asking immediately what our star signs were. As any right-minded person knows, star signs are a load of bollocks. To suggest that purely due to the fluke of being born in April, I have in something in common with other people is mental. Ok, so Leonard Nemoy's surname is similarish to mine, and apart from the fact that Timothy Dalton (presumably) also has male re-productive organs, we are very much like whatever is the opposite of chalk. Google tells me that other famous Aries include: Aretha Franklin and Marcel Marceau. I'm neither a famous singer (yet) nor a dead mime artist (again, yet). I have been to America, and also own a horizontally striped jumper and not so hot with the words, but I think these links are tenuous. Needless to say, much sidling away and not meeting eyes was done in the immediate aftermath of our meeting.
And now, for the lip-smacking dessert, or to give it's full title, "The bit where I talk about football". Genoa continue to infuriate, so instead I'll turn my attention towards the greatest team in English football history and now 8-time winners of the League Cup: the mighty, the imperious, the one and only, Liverpool. Yesterday we won the League Cup, smighting with furious rage the leak-munching bumpkins of Cardiff, 3-2 on penalties. After 120 minutes of pretty dominant play, they gave me a bit of a scare as Charlie Adam auditioned for the Scottish rugby team (could do with a kicker, or whatever egg chasers call that role) by blootering his shot into his adoring public. For the next 3 or 4 minutes I felt sick with worry, really, but in the end was jumping about my kitchen and muffling whoops of joy. I had to stop when the police came to see who was being murdered, but I bid them a good night with a skip on my face and smile in my step. Truly, football is fantastic. It's hard to put into words just how amazing the whole spectacle is, so I won't even try.
And finally, as the cheese and coffee part of your meal (avoid if lactose intolerant or a light sleeper), I feel that I should tell you that I won at bowling a few weeks ago, and I'm also currently top goalscorer at the footy. It's good to be the King.
And, oh, in light of the fact that I've name checked Fra twice (thrice if you count that last time), should also say a big internet-based farewell to Joanna, who is heartlessly abandoning Genoa for a couple of months lording it about in Peru. Lucky her!
Fare thee well also you, dear reader, as I've come to the end of this post and must now go and speak to a student on the phone. The joys.
Chow chow!
posted by michael | 09:18
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1 Comments
