ODY: Day 3

A small victory in the Old Dog, New Trick Olympics today. My mid-life quest for guitar glory saw its first hint of musicality tonight, when the G-major chord came out sounding vaguely musical on a few of my eccentric windmill strokes. My fingertips felt sliced and diced by the time I’d hit the individual strings enough to organize my fretting, so the chord didn’t hold up long. But I heard it, dammit. I heard it. And the strings go E, A, D, G, B and E again. And that’s an octave, from fattest to skinniest. (Or is it two?) That A chord doesn’t make much sense to me yet, but that might’ve been because I read the diagram wrong again. Is this why we call a frightened or nervous person fretful?

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