Dear Old Bluesman Playing a Sad Guitar,

Thank you.  Somehow, you still manage to fingerpick and sing from everyone’s common soul.  While your calluses amble up and down the neck, always making it just in time to fret the right note, we can’t help but close an eye and nod at the conduit you create between the world and the deep, often sad, chambers of our heart.  Your words are often so simple that they pass by like leaves and we miss the poetry with which you’ve bottled humanity.

These days, you’ve been footnoted and pushed to basements, so let me say this: No matter what, never stop playing your music.  Please.  For better or for worse, some day we’ll be robbed of the inspiration that makes you pluck your guitar and sing of sad days.  Losing your real voice will be one of the painful casualties of progress.

So just keep playing and let us get you while we can.

Thanks.

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2 Responses to Dear Old Bluesman Playing a Sad Guitar,

  1. Soog says:

    Is it racist that I pictured your bluesman as black?

    • Caleb says:

      I love this question and am going to write a post on it eventually. My short answer is “yes” but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it.

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