This just in from my friend the genius writer:
Electricity flowed through the wires of his house, it rippled around the rooms and snaked through the outlet and slipped into the television set and coursed across the circuitry to ignite phosphors on and off until pixels danced and winked and altered their wavelength ultimately making Simon and Paula and that big black Randy animate as if they were real and not just a figment of a producer's imagination, a manifestation of a script written in silence while waiting for better ideas to emerge. When I snap my fingers, you will awaken and remember nothing. On the count of three, you will open your eyes and stumble into bed.
Darrell Williams
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Fixing things
Last year I bought a very funky but lovely sounding guitar from a great old guy in Havana. Zoe pulled it out last Sunday to play the 5 and half year old blues. She strummed away for a while and then left it on the couch. I noticed that a pretty gnarly crack had developed on on the back. I immediately blamed the kid and had her go and clean the bathroom and wash the car... nah, she's always gentle with the instruments and besides we don't have a car.
I got on the internet, well I seem to always be on the internet... and googled "crack, accoustic guitar repair." I waded through all the sexual and drug related references and came cross this guitar maker who also teaches others how to make guitars. One of his students had written in to discuss fixing pretty much the same problem.
The guitar makers point was that the crack was probably caused by a change in humidity. Ditto... Havana humid to the point of needing a wet suit, Barcelona in the winter, dry as a bone.
So the guy says to first wet down the body of the guitar with a spray bottle and then stick it in a plastic garbage bag over night. Hmmm. OK I empty out a windex bottle and spritz my baby and then dug out out a garbage bag, put it inside and sealed off the neck with some masking tape. This apparently is supposed to re-humidify the instrument and will seal up the fissure that has been caused the wood drying out.
OK I wait until the next morning and remove the guitar from it's new damp environment. Viola! The wound healed!
Phase 2 was rubbing Elmer's glue to the now healed crack for " not less than 2 minutes using your finger tips." I cleaned up the excess glue with a wet paper towel as described and I now have a repaired guitar!
Much of my world is so abstract. The vagueness of what I do, the general lack of any kind of a schedule or a day to day rhythm... It felt good to do something physical and see the results of a small amount of labor. I 'll remember my success every time I play this old happily unfashionable guitar.
I got on the internet, well I seem to always be on the internet... and googled "crack, accoustic guitar repair." I waded through all the sexual and drug related references and came cross this guitar maker who also teaches others how to make guitars. One of his students had written in to discuss fixing pretty much the same problem.
The guitar makers point was that the crack was probably caused by a change in humidity. Ditto... Havana humid to the point of needing a wet suit, Barcelona in the winter, dry as a bone.
So the guy says to first wet down the body of the guitar with a spray bottle and then stick it in a plastic garbage bag over night. Hmmm. OK I empty out a windex bottle and spritz my baby and then dug out out a garbage bag, put it inside and sealed off the neck with some masking tape. This apparently is supposed to re-humidify the instrument and will seal up the fissure that has been caused the wood drying out.
OK I wait until the next morning and remove the guitar from it's new damp environment. Viola! The wound healed!
Phase 2 was rubbing Elmer's glue to the now healed crack for " not less than 2 minutes using your finger tips." I cleaned up the excess glue with a wet paper towel as described and I now have a repaired guitar!
Much of my world is so abstract. The vagueness of what I do, the general lack of any kind of a schedule or a day to day rhythm... It felt good to do something physical and see the results of a small amount of labor. I 'll remember my success every time I play this old happily unfashionable guitar.
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