: What did you end up doing with it?
Well, I sold it to a bluesman that was a long time friend of my brother. I bought the guitar when I was about 20 years old. I played all the time back then. I sold it 8 years later. My guitars had sat in a room untouched for quite a while at that point. I'd walk into the room, look at them, turn around and walk back out. It sort of felt like a museum in there. My brother had mentioned to his friend that I had a bunch of guitars and he asked if I wanted to sell any of them. When my brother told me this I said "Sure I'd like to sell this Les Paul I've got." It wasn't long before these two blues guitarists showed up at my door. I took them to the "Music Room" and showed them my stash. My brothers friend spotted the vintage Gibson case while his buddy fiddled with the Les Paul and of course asked "What's in there?". I handed him the case and he popped it open and fell in love. There snuggled in it's luxurious purple interior sat an odd looking pale yellow guitar. Actually I thought it was ugly but when he plugged in to play it he just couldn't believe what he was holding. He even loved the Flying V head. He had to have it so I sold it to him. Shortly after that I sold entire contents of the music room except for one acoustic guitar. Then like one of those crystal lightning bolts of enlightenment that Zen masters talk about it struck me that my whole life felt like a museum. So I packed up some clothes and the guitar and threw them in my truck. I told the woman I was living with she could have the house and all it contained except for my dog. I told her I'd be back for the dog or I'd send someone for him as soon as I figured out where I was going. We weren't married so there were no legal hassles to contend with and I told her I hoped giving her the house and it's contents were compensation enough for just getting up and driving off in the middle of the night. Just let me know what papers I needed to sign so the house was legally hers. So I drove off and never did look back. A phone call a short time later and a trip to a lawyers office to sign some papers and that was it. I'd walked out of my museum. Funny what a man will do isn't it?
What I did with it...
Reg
location: back to the wilderness
listening to: static
registered: 1999.11.22
posts: 6470
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–--
'The only way to avoid getting crushed by absurdity, is to humbly include the absurd in our calculations.'
'The only way to avoid getting crushed by absurdity, is to humbly include the absurd in our calculations.'
Reg
(view)
: What did you end up doing with it?
Well, I sold it to a bluesman that was a long time friend of my brother. I bought the guitar when I was about 20 years old. I played all the time back then. I sold it 8 years later. My guitars had sat in a room untouched for quite a while at that point. I'd walk into the room, look at them, turn around and walk back out. It sort of felt like a museum in there. My brother had mentioned to his friend that I had a bunch of guitars and he asked if I wanted to sell any of them. When my brother told me this I said "Sure I'd like to sell this Les Paul I've got." It wasn't long before these two blues guitarists showed up at my door. I took them to the "Music Room" and showed them my stash. My brothers friend spotted the vintage Gibson case while his buddy fiddled with the Les Paul and of course asked "What's in there?". I handed him the case and he popped it open and fell in love. There snuggled in it's luxurious purple interior sat an odd looking pale yellow guitar. Actually I thought it was ugly but when he plugged in to play it he just couldn't believe what he was holding. He even loved the Flying V head. He had to have it so I sold it to him. Shortly after that I sold entire contents of the music room except for one acoustic guitar. Then like one of those crystal lightning bolts of enlightenment that Zen masters talk about it struck me that my whole life felt like a museum. So I packed up some clothes and the guitar and threw them in my truck. I told the woman I was living with she could have the house and all it contained except for my dog. I told her I'd be back for the dog or I'd send someone for him as soon as I figured out where I was going. We weren't married so there were no legal hassles to contend with and I told her I hoped giving her the house and it's contents were compensation enough for just getting up and driving off in the middle of the night. Just let me know what papers I needed to sign so the house was legally hers. So I drove off and never did look back. A phone call a short time later and a trip to a lawyers office to sign some papers and that was it. I'd walked out of my museum. Funny what a man will do isn't it?
Well, I sold it to a bluesman that was a long time friend of my brother. I bought the guitar when I was about 20 years old. I played all the time back then. I sold it 8 years later. My guitars had sat in a room untouched for quite a while at that point. I'd walk into the room, look at them, turn around and walk back out. It sort of felt like a museum in there. My brother had mentioned to his friend that I had a bunch of guitars and he asked if I wanted to sell any of them. When my brother told me this I said "Sure I'd like to sell this Les Paul I've got." It wasn't long before these two blues guitarists showed up at my door. I took them to the "Music Room" and showed them my stash. My brothers friend spotted the vintage Gibson case while his buddy fiddled with the Les Paul and of course asked "What's in there?". I handed him the case and he popped it open and fell in love. There snuggled in it's luxurious purple interior sat an odd looking pale yellow guitar. Actually I thought it was ugly but when he plugged in to play it he just couldn't believe what he was holding. He even loved the Flying V head. He had to have it so I sold it to him. Shortly after that I sold entire contents of the music room except for one acoustic guitar. Then like one of those crystal lightning bolts of enlightenment that Zen masters talk about it struck me that my whole life felt like a museum. So I packed up some clothes and the guitar and threw them in my truck. I told the woman I was living with she could have the house and all it contained except for my dog. I told her I'd be back for the dog or I'd send someone for him as soon as I figured out where I was going. We weren't married so there were no legal hassles to contend with and I told her I hoped giving her the house and it's contents were compensation enough for just getting up and driving off in the middle of the night. Just let me know what papers I needed to sign so the house was legally hers. So I drove off and never did look back. A phone call a short time later and a trip to a lawyers office to sign some papers and that was it. I'd walked out of my museum. Funny what a man will do isn't it?
–--
'The only way to avoid getting crushed by absurdity, is to humbly include the absurd in our calculations.'
'The only way to avoid getting crushed by absurdity, is to humbly include the absurd in our calculations.'
