Few possessions can invoke the kind of emotions that one can develop for a musical instrument. I am a guitarist. I have more than one guitar. They are all named. I can make them all sing.
Last night, after going to hangout and jam with my band, I found that the Stratocaster that I keep where we practice had been stolen. We know who did it, but we have no solid proof. If he is smart (which he isn’t), he will try to return it. He should also avoid being in my presence. No real man would steal another man’s guitar!
I remained calm. We did file a police report. My guitar is gone, and our equipment is not safe. This all happened because a troubled little girl, decided to choose a piece of human-garbage for a boyfriend, and he gained access to the house where we have jammed for the last 15 or so years. The one time I met him, he wouldn’t look me in the eye. That can say a lot.
Whoever has my guitar now, she will never sing for you the way she did for me. She knows all my songs, but she will never give them up. Jade has been kidnapped, and whoever could steal a guitar, has no respect for the music.
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