Posted by: loripalooza | January 18, 2011

My Sweet Lil’ Beast

As expected, and fervently wished for, Joe gave me Life, the Keith Richards book Hannah talked about last month (scroll down, ya lazy sod, I’m not giving you a link to a post you can see down below!).  I just finished it last night, and must admit it’s partially responsible for my long absence from writing here.  Well, that and a few other books and life and such.  (True confession:  I would pretty much rather be prone on our love seat, book propped in front of me and purring cat on my belly, than just about any other thing in the world.  Add to that my family in the same room doing the same thing, and a crackling fire in the fireplace and you can label it Lori Nirvana.)  Keith is the quintessential rock and roller to me – the gnarly pirate with kohl-lined eyes who just lives to play the guitar.  I loved reading about everything from his career progression to his day-to-day life to his recipe for bangers and mash.  As Hannah said, his voice is very conversational, and I went to bed and dreamed of him talking to me as if I were still reading.  (He even confessed in one dream he could never do an F chord, and I was thrilled!)  His slurry English voice took over my waking thoughts, too, so I found myself thinking like a crusty old rocker much of the time the last couple of weeks… I do need to consult with my guitar friends on a few of the technical things, but I understood quite a bit of it, running to the CD player and popping an old Stones song in, my ears perked attentively to see if I could hear a particular sound he created.  I picked up my new guitar last night after I’d finished it, looking at it and letting my fingers play across the strings in a new, exploratory way, and thought about how I should really take lessons, though I do have a hard time getting past the image of me, plumpalicious middle-aged white chick, taking rock guitar lessons.  If I ever get the courage to go in somewhere, I figure I’ll ask them to show me a way my stiff little fingers can make an F chord, and if they can, I’ll sign up.

Wait, did I say new guitar?  Yes indeedy.  Went in for some new picks, which tend to disappear like socks, and next thing you know I’ve bonded with this little Fender acoustic, with pick-up and, coolest of cool, a built-in tuner!  It’s slightly smaller all around than a standard model, and fits me very comfortably.  And sounds sweet.  Our keyboard player said it makes me look taller, too.  Bonus!



  1. What a beauty! I can’t wait to see and hear it. When’s your next gig?!

    • Dunno. We’re actually going to record a three-song demo in our basement and put together a little promo packet and, you know, try …. We’ll let you know, for sure!

    • Oh, that’s a sweet little thing. Promise us you won’t smash it into the amplifier or burn it onstage.

      • The guy who was helping me with the guitar (who could have been a Weasley brother from Harry Potter) when I bought it DID mention that Fender picks are highly flammable – but after seeing my face light up, he amended that to “when you light them, not while playing….”

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