Alive.

For the first time after so long in music, instead of approaching my guitar and thinking that it's that stupid AUD$137 guitar that I got that has a plastic fretboard.

I picked it up because I don't think I can wait for a Fender Stratocaster just to practice on Eric Johnson's Manhattan. Besides the tone, the technique needs to be practiced as well.

And yes, I felt like this.



Remembering the times that I used to watch great guitarists like these and admire them. I still have that fuzzy warm feeling that makes anywhere home.

As long as there's music, I feel entirely home.

Besides trying to approach Manhattan (with plenty of mistakes too), I played on the song that I never finished composing (like many other songs that I try to compose) titled Fragments of Beliefs. Or might be switched to "Gray" very soon. Then again, it's not a good tribute song for .. Paul Gray. Trust me, he'd probably cry in heaven or hell. Wherever he is.

And I might reconsider putting up what I had in mind tonight, for the sake of this song being a creative hybrid, might as well make it more .. hybrid.

It's about tone, articulation and feel. And all the notes sound right. (Enough with the metaphors. Meaning that it consists of both right and wrong notes).

That's what I felt.











And it's 1.21am. On normal Tuesdays, you'd catch me dead asleep because of the full-day class I have to face.

Tonight's different.

I feel.. alive. And fuck yes, it feels great to be alive.

*plays more odd stuff*