Thursday, June 19, 2008

The Devil's Only Daughter

For it's time we fell to talking, you and I
For every time I take a dram I hear you curse
-- Brian McNeill
Before I left Boston for New Haven, I sold my fiddle to a twelve year old boy with sandy blond hair and oversized glasses. His mother wrote the check to the specified amount, far below it's actual value, and that was the last I saw of my old companion.

Its been over two years since I last saw my fiddle, and some days it's absence is felt a bit more than others. To be honest, it was a relief to be rid of it. The case sat there in my room accusing me of not practicing enough, not going to sessions, not learning new tunes and I just couldn't be pressured at that time in my life.

Today, I spend a lot of late nights watching fine art prints slowly coming out of my 44" wide printer and at times like that, I think it would be nice to pull horsehair across strings and feel the vibration of notes underneath my chin once again.

I think I'll shop around for a fiddle. It would be nice to have a companion now that I have some time to spend with it.

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