Dobro

I love photoshop and the filters you can use to push images into paintings.

This is a very low res shot of me playing my dobro, and messing with it using the fresco, sponge paint and saturation tools, it becomes almost a painting.

I finished up a guitar today out in the shop, a junker Les Paul style electric with a blood spattered look. It was a basement salvage thing from my pal Mark's pile o' shit, and it's pretty far removed from the original look and feel.

The further things get from normal, everyday mass produced crap, the more likely I am to use/enjoy/wear out.
Fuck normal. It's a setting on a washing machine, and a mythical state that humans never reach, but that most conservative people crave.

I prefer to swerve from one side of the ditch to the other, with a few terrifying moments in the middle of the road to wake me up every few years.

And hey, it's still fucking winter, I still have no furnace, and my relationship with burnt and unburnt things is starting to make me wonder if the semi-regular burning/exhaust smell I am getting is also in my brain, as I struggle with my long winter of grumpy discontent.

Time for a shot of some fine whiskey my cohort/drummer/madman savant gave us for ho ho ho season.

Bleeeech!