Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
I lay there with the phone in my hand, imagining all the ways it could go if I threw caution to the wind and just called him.
Hey, Zig, it’s me. I just wanted to know when you were going to come pick up your stuff. You know, the clothes and stuff you left with me when they carted you off to the loony bin that time…?
Yeah, no.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
If I hadn’t made the decision to leave, then that last show at the flamenco school might have gone differently. Or maybe if Gloria hadn’t told me right before the show started that Carynne had called, I wouldn’t have been so on edge. It’s possible my memory has gilded my performance a little, but I really think it was good. I remember it as being the best, but maybe it’s just that one always remembers the last time for something with such fondness. I don’t know. Ramon was there that night, too. He’d been hanging around the school more and more, and I was happy to have him play with our group.
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