baggage's Diaryland Diary

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babysteps

So, my guitar is in my lap.

And I'm slowly going through all my scales-second guessing the pain I expect to come shooting through my fingers and up my arm at any minute.

But, it hasn't hit me this morning.

And this shiny hunk of curved wood and metal and ivory feels so at home in my hands -that I can't imagine not playing.

Baby steps.

Baby steps.

And I think all will turn out fine.

9:47 a.m. - 2001-07-15

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