Yesterday was a bad day. That’s all I have to say about it. I got up ’round noon, feeling drowsy, but maintaining an urge to rock n roll–and I found my guitar was out of tune. Like WTF. So, I figure I may as well get some new strings then give ‘er a tune up.

Coffee. Shower. Dress. I run up to the guitar store. I literally ran there, as neither Paco nor John would give me a lift. (Thanks a lot guys).

So, guitar strings cost $10.99 these days. That was my whole weekend’s fun money. Gone in one shot. That was harsh enough. I get back to my Rick and start to string the bitch, and I pull up on the round wound D string and my index finger slides along the tight string–I get sliced to the bone. Blood all over.

After all that running around, my finger was cut and all bandaged up so I couldn’t play. Instead, I kicked back, hummed, and wrote a song called, “Yesterday, Was A Bad Day.” I’ll run it by the guys at Tuesday’s practice.

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[The Black Spy]