Last night the guitar case was dusted off, and I headed up to my friend Emily's place to jam out with her fiance, Sean, and Sean's buddy Jason, who's handy with a banjo and harmonica.

It felt good to get back in the rhythm of things, pun intended. Sean's a Kentucky native, and he has this *massive* collection of sheet music and lyrics; we wound up playing bluegrass and folk ditties for about 3 hours.

It was one of the most enjoyable music-playing experiences I can remember. We're on for next Wednsesday.

A few years back when I was in a funk, I decided to help lift my spirits by taking jazz guitar over at McCabe's, in Santa Monica, to improve my skill level. I figure if you can play jazz, you can play anything - and I still think that's the truth. Over the course of a year, half of it went through one ear and out the other. We really delved into technique and theory, and then...I dunno. It just fizzled. I lost interest.

Last night I realized why: Music is meant to be shared. If you're taking lessons to impress yourself, your missing the point. Fine, I'm missing the point. It's 10-times more-fun to collaborate with other people, even down to a simple three-chord progression.

And I don't know why I forgot that. Besides me being an idiot, it probably has to do with the sense of stage fright I get even at campfires when the guitars come out - this sense that I have to impress.

But if you just let loose, put down your guard, and regardless of skill level just have fun, well that's so much more important and apparent to everyone else in the circle. (Except for the occasional music snob. B&G, I am looking in your general direction.)

[Insert parallel to the bigger picture here.]

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to learn "Blackbird" for next week. 'Can't wait.

(Oh yeah, and there's that whole "school" thing, too. Whatever.)