30.0

While my sitar gently weeps...


I've always had this fascination with odd instruments. Sitars, dulcimers, accordions, ocarinas, melodicas etc. When I grow up I'll buy one of each instrument I've listed. Maybe I'll learn to play them all, and create some obscure one-woman band music with my newly developed musical polyglotism. This musical anomaly will be so fantastic as to serve the purpose of completing my soul and the world. Maybe I'll become extremely famous in Spain and Norway. Maybe I'll be a worldwide sensation within a short while, like internet cat videos.


And maybe I won't learn how to play them. Maybe I'll be far too busy doing whatever it is I'll be doing when I'm "grown up", whatever that means. Perhaps their only purpose will be to provide culturally stylish litter to my living room. Maybe I'll be far too depressed to try to play them. Nothing makes me more frustrated than discordant noodling on an instrument, which is why when I noodle discordantly on my guitar whenever I'm upset I get more upset. But I'll be far too depressed to sell them as well. I'm a pack rat. I can only imagine how I'll be as an old lady, hoarding every tea tin and yogurt container I come across. The only contact I'll ever have with my instruments will be with a feather duster. The only sound they'll produce will be soft whimpers of dust.


And maybe I won't learn how to play them, but I'll still hear them be played. Maybe I'll have kids, and they'll know how to play sitars, dulcimers, accordions, ocarinas, melodicas etc. But suppose they decide to leave house, and I won't have anyone to play for me anymore. But then again, suppose my kids don't have washing machines. Or change. Perhaps they can use my washer and dryer in exchange for playing my obscure instruments. Laundry days will be spent at my house, and the basement will fill with the songs of sitars, dulcimers, accordions, ocarinas, melodicas etc. playing to the beat of the clothes tumbling in the dryer.

I would like that.