El Idiota

Lately there has been absolutely nothing for me to write about. Not in a sense that I don't have any ideas but more of how on earth do I ever get them to flow into something intelligible? Quite rightly, I should describe this period - this very long period, spanning over the past couple of weeks - as me being extremely lazy and somewhat clueless at times. Therefore, to fill up the spaces of this blog, I often find myself either inserting music videos from various artists during the dying hours of the day or simply stealing posts from other authors. But after doing so for as much as I have, I've had no choice but to come to a conclusion that it is rather pathetic that the works on a blog, which is by ethical standard, supposed to be from the creative geniuses of their respective authors, are now somewhat illegally plagiarised by one disrespectful blogger hiding somewhere in the concrete jungles of one of the most developed and heavily bridged urban landscapes in Malaysia. I completely deserve to be incarcerated by the heaviest of copyright laws. But heck, this is Malaysia. A land where committing even the greatest of atrocities can go unpunished as long as you have the money, the seats and the connections. Go figure.

On a more lighter note, I do feel like a complete idiot after what happened yesterday. What happened was that yesterday, I happened to perform at my first gig of the year. However it wasn't with my original band whom I so dearly want to sit and make some good music with. In fact, I only managed to be in a performance by the virtue of association. But anyhow, as we were practicing, about minutes before our slot, I was approached by this young man, around my age by the name of Kenneth. He asked if he could borrow one of our guitars so he could practice for his slot. As a person, I humbly obliged. Then, as he picked up the guitar, he asked my whether or not I knew the chords to the song Knocking On Heaven's Door. Having played that many times before, I answered yes. Then as he started playing, with me guiding him along on a second guitar, I started adding a little background vocals to his singing to a point where he asked me if I would like to join him on stage and back him up. For a person who could never sing even if his life depended upon it, I once again, obliged. So, we went on to practice to a point where both of us were mutually satisfied. Immediately after which was the beginning of my first slot with my other guys.

It was an acoustic set by the way. So naturally, I did have my reservations about the still recurring feedback problems. But when all was said and done, it was a rather satisfactory performance. And by the way, kudos to Kit Ming. He managed to spill some blood onto the guitar while playing. It was completely my fault. Halfway through the first song, I dropped my pick into the soundhole and there was no quick enough way for me to retrieve it without having to look like a fool on stage which I almost did with a few seconds of feverish shaking of the guitar. Thinking that Kit had an extra pick, I called out to him and signalled him to hand me a pick. Which he did. I took it and continued playing. But after the slot, he presented his bleeding fingers to us and told me that it was the reult of having to strum like a maniac without the aid of a pick.

But anyways, returning to the story. After my slot, our singer had to return. And along with it, our second guitar. Which meant that for Kenneth's slot, we would only have one guitar and he would have to go at it alone. I tried looking for him to relay the news to him but as fate would have it, I couldn't find him. And the best part was I couldn't remember what he loked like. All I knew was that I was looking for a Chinese guy who is wearing a black shirt and a pair of blue jeans. So, I quit trying to search and decided to just stand and look around. But after some loking around, I decided that I really couldn't find him and that it would be wiser that I left since I had nothing else to do.

On the way back, I realized that there was another guitar somewhere in the Students Affairs Office. But for some unfathomable reason, I just continued to walk home. And when I got home, it immediately dawned upon me that I had just ruined someones gig, which was a terrible thing to do. So to save what little I could, I tried calling my friends to look for him but unfortunately no one picked up their handphones. And the only one who did had already left. What luck.

Do something bad and it will return three times harder. I just hope that it does not apply to our next gig. El Idiota!!