It was my own fault. Sixteen strings held me prisoner for two hours. The bastille of music kept me under lock and key.
Feeling fatigued late one evening last week, I nonetheless coerced myself into practicing music in the bedroom rather than putting up my feet and reading. It was 11 p.m., and I figured I would try to play but get nowhere, but I had been craving placing a pick on pairs of strings all day, so I made myself stick with it.
John, you may ask, why didn’t you just go to bed, get up early and practice in the morning? Good question, but it doesn’t work with me, because my body operates on MST — Musician Standard Time. I know people who, no matter how late they retire, whether it’s 9 p.m. or 1 a.m., pop awake at 4 or 5 a.m., and I do the same, in a manner of speaking.