On January 2, 1982 – I got plenty done. After work I drove Marty to Richmond Square, where he proceeded to shoplift a pair of jeans. What next? There was a real prize in the shop later, but KI know, she’s taken. The only stuff my age is the supreme leftovers. Yech!
For a change, Marty showd a little patience, and I was able to show him several things on the guitar. Including the Flatt run, some tie-ins, and how to finger 6-string chords—the way he was doing it was giving me fits. Enthusiastic as he his, he’ll never be a guitar player. I compare his idea of music to mine when was 14 or 15. ‘Ceptin’, by then I’d been playing the piano for [nearly] six years.
Later, I met Frances, the funny-looking girl I tell a joke to now and then. My God,, what a mix-up. There’s problems & there’s problems. And if the truth ever comes out, I think she’s got every one of them.
[Author’s note 2017: If I recall, I had begun to pull shifts at the company on the Canadian side of the border about this time. If so, watch for me to make comments on what I’m learning, as the system would be new to me.
