Superglue
February 14, 2008
Unlucky in love again.
February 22, 2008
Nearly 3 weeks since I’ve talked to Nell. I’m nearly over her. Can’t help dreaming about her though…
February 25, 2008
Sat next to her and had an anxiety attack. I’m not over her.
March 4, 2008
I’d become an alcoholic if I tried. I could be a druggie too. Now that I’m 18, I need to go live life. I’m a boy trying to play men’s music. I just need to live more. Plus, I need to get away from Nell.
After I finished reading about Eric Clapton, I read several more biographies of my favorite musicians… George Harrison, Elton John, and of course Stevie Ray Vaughan.
Stevie was different. First, he was American, not British, as many of my idols seemed to be. Second, he learned from the very heroes that I looked up to. So where guitar gods like Jimmy Page and Eric Clapton seemed to be untouchable, Stevie filled the role of a peer to me. I could listen and hear what he was playing and why. He played licks and riffs that were familiar and made so much sense in a way I hadn’t thought of before.
As much as I got from listening to his music, reading about his life shed even more light on the person he was. He worked, practiced, and did everything with more focus and with much more effort than everyone else.
There was one thing that still stands out to me about his drive and passion. When you first start to play the guitar, you discover that the tips of your fingers start to hurt after pressing down on the strings for too long. Eventually you develop calluses, but Stevie even used strings much thicker than normal. These would tear through his fingertips. One night when he was banging out the blues in a small club, he ripped through his calluses. He stopped to get some superglue, glued them back together, and went right back on stage to keep playing.
I was affected by his life and Eric’s. I wondered if I had the same drive and will to follow my heart.
I wanted to prove to everyone, to Nell, and to myself that I did.
My 18th birthday was spent alone. It made me feel even worse thinking about my unclear future, goals, and purpose in life. I wanted to escape. I had too many questions, no answers, and nothing to lose except a whole world of sadness and bad memories. Just being in the same city as Nell, knowing my future most likely wouldn’t involve her, tormented my mind so much that I decided to run away, hoping to make myself into someone that could be loved.
I bought a Greyhound bus ticket to Austin, Texas, home of the late Stevie Ray Vaughan, whom I’d just read about. I took only a small duffel bag, my guitar, around 300 dollars I’d saved up for a few years, and an assumption that things would just work out.