of all the chords i've ever played, there are a few that i always end up using again and again. i like them more than all the others. i like the way they sound, and i like how it feels to fret them. at times they feel almost comforting.
if anyone ever wanted to trade favorite chords sometime, i would do it.
if you want me to play in your living room, let me know, because i will probably also do that.
I still have your space heater.
How shall we remedy this? Is there a show or something you will be at where I can meet you with it?
PS I heart your musick.
thanks for messaging me about your new tunes... the sun is bright here, and providing perfect reflection time with my coffee to close my eyes and take in your new pieces... beautiful Bob.. beautiful. When they are all recorded the way that you want them, what will it take to get a new CD via Bicycle Records?
I'm looking forward to more melody from your way Bob. I've been listening to your CD in the winter sun over here, and it has been helpful in peeling away some of my poetic reservations.
Sending a smile, and stories of nutritional yeast,
In the frosted winter sunset here, sometimes I sit in my garden, between fragile and frozen leaves of plants long since harvested or up on the giant sloping hillside, barren save for the patches of sagebrush, brittle and spent. It is so strange, without a tree, and even in the vineyards, walking between pruned and leafless vines, there is a beauty about the lonely winter here when the sun glints off of the angles of ice. It makes me think of your music, slowly strumming me into tears. I still love your work. It still makes me cry (yes, that's good). I played the CD that you gave to me last year for my roommate and a friend who owns a beautiful gallery out here. They both wanted to say: Thanks.
(I'll be coming through town Friday-tomorrow- for a couple of hours; would it be okay if I picked up my chess board? I miss it in the winter.)
Bob is a beautifull guitar player. That was a thought i got last night when i was sitting in the middle of the woods, as dusk fell, listening for owls.
