Oxidizing Away

August 25, 2006

No sweaty palms shall ever touch any of my belongings that are susceptible to rusting.  I have had to restring the damn guitar twice this month, and I hate it, and I just remembered I forgot to buy strings for my other one.

There’s always this weird feeling that I’m doing it wrong, and that the string is gonna snap and whip me (like the naughty boy that I am, ahahahaha- had to get some laughs in… maybe it was more gross/lame than funny, if at all funny) or poke me in the eye.  Maybe I’d feel more safe restringing a bass.  I think it a better investment to get a nylon string guitar.  Zero rust on that puppy.  Anywho, along with forgetting another set of strings, I attempted to take matters into my own hands.  I talked myself into purchasing a new bridge and nut so I can raise the action to stop the stupid buzzing.  But as luck would have it, God looked at his agenda:  “It’s time to screw this kid over.”  These parts don’t fit at all.  Now I will have to return them to the store, and face the staffs’ love to talk and attempt to sell you their store while I pretend to listen and nicely object to their offers, then make an excuse to be in a hurry to leave.

I must say though that it is pretty pathetic how I have nothing better to do than to complain about having to restring my guitar.  Let me leave already.  After going through all this wear and tear, and then sit unplayed for awhile, the copper and steel start to oxidize; it turns green and slimy, and coarse, black, and rusty.  The strings are not the only thing that rusts.

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