I wish I could play the guitar like that. Hell, I just wish I could PLAY the guitar.
A fellow named Ian sent me a bunch of fotos of a bitchin’ time that was had in Bermuda. Apparently, Ian thought I was in the band that he saw with friends in Bermuda, or that I was this guitarist or something of a sort.
I e-mailed Ian back and told him that I had never been to Bermuda as well as had never played the guitar. Those are two things I have meant to do: Go to Bermuda and learn to play the guitar. So who is this dude laying down the riffs or, as we cubes (a square who is a bit edgy) say, “playing the guitar?” I really don’t know nor do I know who the Ian is who e-mailed me. I’ve known an Ian or two. I’m sure most people have known or at least seen an Ian at some time or the other. But this particular Ian, I’m sorry, it must have been that other eight feet deep guy in Bermuda.
If anyone out there in the cybergalaxy knows who this is playing the guitar, please let me know so I may plug him. No, by plugging him I don’t mean shooting him with a gun. I mean giving him a mention so as to boost his bidness. Of course, if this guy’s band depended on me for advertising, I would expect they would have to go back to their days jobs provided they never left those jobs.
Nonetheless, from the other pictures that Ian sent me, I definitely wished I had been with him in Bermuda. It looks like a good time was had by all. And, I rather like having a good time.