ukelele epitome of incomprehensibility Shrink a bit, and people will think you're cuter and/or cornier than before. 140915 ... no reason first jam session with the banjo uke tonight. my super-amateurish uke-playing self is excited. 140915 ... e_o_i Cool! How did it go? My friend J. has a ukelele, and my former sorta-landlords have two: one for their children, though I don't know if the little girl's started learning it yet. She liked to hold it, anyway; it was guitar-size for her. I can play a couple of chords, and it's more manageable to my fingers than a regular acoustic guitar. And I have a guitar, or at least my mother does, and she put it in my room - it's old, but rich and mellow-sounding, and I've tried to take lessons but my fingers don't cooperate. The uke is smaller and more forgiving, but Mom (who plays saxophone and piano) thinks it's the epitome of corniness, especially since I told her my plans of getting one in pink or yellow. That was a few months ago. Right now, new-string-instrument-wise, I got a folk harp from my aunt (serendipitous_lending, or instrument trading) so I'll try to learn more of it first. 140916 ... e_o_i Why aren't things showing up at first when I blathe? Strange. 140916 ... nr i suppose they can be corny, but more so just fun, and nicely portable. if you get one with a pickup (or insert one, i guess), they can sound very not-corny. it was fun, despite someone on drums who taught himself and basically just likes to be loud. so when the violinist and i could hear ourselves, it was fun. 140916 ... flux a brief but vivid memory: n had taken up playing the ukelele in his band, "anal_harmony" (the name was chosen in attempt to outdo the local discordian gig, opposable_nipple). he also drove me in his 1950s vintage custom ford pickup (affectionately, "rusty") to pre-school shenanigans a couple of days of the week during my senior year of high school. once, in the crepuscule of a quarter till six am, as we drove past the local shopping plaza, we espied a young madman crouching atop a brick pillar at the entrance to a housing development, playing a ukelele as if he wanted god to hear it. as if he'd been at it all night, to boot. n held the truck at the intersection for a full minute, no other cars around, windows down, as we listened in awe. then, in the haze of the morning before our caffeination ritual, we drove on, and wondered who that madman was who'd grace'd our morning. and i never found out. 140916 what's it to you? who go blather from