When I grow up I would be thrilled to play just half as good as Brickdust.

For example, the SAAB dealer said I needed to replace the alarm module for about $180. Instead I replaced the batteries that were soldered to the circuit board for $5 and glued the case back together.

Then the motherboard of my desktop computer fried – recommended choice was $140 for a new unit. With some research the solution for $5 for new capacitors and an evening with a soldering iron.

I’ve been watching these cool videos of folks playing home made guitars based on cigar boxes since last summer. I stumbled across them while researching stuff for a ukelele kit my daughter and I were building. I picked up an awesome CD of cool bluesy licks by Mike Snowden, and joined a news group that seemed like fun. And then I let it sit for a few months. But it kept simmering in the background. One day I was in a store that happened to have some empty cigar boxes for sale at a couple bucks each, so I picked one up. And it sat for a few months too. And I bought some tuners online for a couple bucks. And guess what they did in the back of the drawer.

This week when the DC area was hit with a record breaking snow storm and we were snowbound for three days, I went out to the shop and looked for something to keep my hands busy for a bit. A scrap of wood jumped out of the pile and started to become a guitar neck in my mind. So I looked up some free plans again on http://www.cigarboxnation.com and started working on my second hand built instrument, but my first Cigar Box Guitar.

It’s a three string instrument made mostly from scraps; a pine neck, acrylic nut, bridge, and tail pieces.

I’ve ordered some instructional and inspirational CD’s off eBay, and hope to have the CBG ready to go by this weekend. Next I just need to learn how to play it.

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Swirling winds drove snowdrifts across the valley, turning everything into a shifting white blur. A small man tilted into the wind, trying to push through drifts that often rose above his waist. Squinting through frozen eyelids, he stumbled and fell heavily. Shivering and shaking, he lurched to his feet only to be blown down by a sudden gust of wind. His white hands clutched at the necklace he wore as he cursed bitterly. Tears froze on his face, and faint sobs shook his body. Snow piled up around him, covering his tattered brown cloak, the only spot of color to be seen. Soon the only movement in the valley was the wind.

I know is isn’t fair
But once you’re aware
You can track back all you want
You can mourn for what’s gone
But you’re up either way
You better deal with your day

- John Popper, Once You Wake Up

I lost a friend last week. Or more correctly, I permanently lost the chance to reconnect. Many years ago I lost touch with Mike. My life went in a different direction from his. I moved into a new relationship, family life, and put aside my partying and riding. I also fell out of touch with most of our common friends. He hit some very hard times, and lost the will to keep going. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Probably it was both. But we’ll never know.

I am so far out of touch with old friends and family that no one even called me directly to tell me the news. Not saying that in anger, or in bitterness. Just acknowledging the state of things.

Mike and I met in a topless bar about 12 years ago. We spent the next four or five years riding, partying, and chasing dreams. Once four of us were riding together as a tight group, we decided the group needed a name – the Short Bus Crew, or the House of the Fallen when in Scadian settings. Basically a good bunch of guys. We rode for fun, not to cause trouble.  Same way we drank. Or at least the way we intended to drink. Sometimes things got out of hand – usually with Mike. He drank first, he drank last, and he often drank to excess. Definitely the case on his last night.

I’m not sure if the gathering of family and friends at a funeral parlor is properly called a funeral or memorial service. No speeches were made and no procession occurred to a cemetery or church. But whatever it is called, it’s a time for survivors to gather and reflect.

I saw people there I haven’t seen in years. Some of them at least eight or nine years. People I met at Pennsic and the old Bruce conventions back in 93 and 94. Family I haven’t spoken more than a few words to in a year. People I held very dear to my heart. People I loved. People who in some cases I’m not sure just how I feel about anymore. A couple I might like to know again. Not sure how. Not sure what that would mean.

I left early.

Lots rolling in my head. Heavy mind. Need to work it through. Haven’t been able to think properly in a long time. Clouded thoughts, conflicting priorities.

Sweet.