Bar Chords And Tears

I cried today.
It was unexpected.

I was on the couch practicing bar chords on the little martin while watching the finale episode of Californication. And I started to cry.
As I practiced, up and down the fret, a tear slowly slid down my cheek.
It may have been the chord I was strumming. 7th chords are known to be so pretty they could bring tears to the hardest of hearts.
But I don't think that's why I cried.
I think it was the scene I was watching. Charlie was screwing Daisy for the very last time.
And It wasn't "the very last time" part that made me cry. It was the screwing.

I miss....it.
I miss the good ol' days, only three weeks ago, when possibility was in the air and on any given day I may have found myself in the arms of some beau. Excited, distracted...loved.

Don't get me wrong.
This particular famine has brought upon a great education in under a month.
Without my most favorite distraction, white bread love, I have learned to:

Cook, make a great cup of coffee, play tennis and of course, play the dreaded bar chord.
Three weeks ago, I could do none of the above, so you can imagine my delight.
But I still cried today.

Oh yes, I'm very pleased. I can write an even prettier song, make incredible french toast and I believe I have found a killer stroke.
But as usual, I want more.

Wanting.
What a fucker. You really are a fucker.
Is it ever enough?
I've learned bar chords for gods sake. Fucking bar chords.
Do you know how hard that is to do for someone with tiny hands? and no attention? Nearly impossible.
And I need more? Still?
Did they put a chip in my brain on that sweet June day at 10:25 am?
Was it encoded with some ridiculous default to never be satisfied?

Unlikely.

So maybe it wasn't More bring me to weep. Maybe it was the sad, sad ever so sad phone call with my grandmother yesterday before sundown. She missed Jack, my grandfather, who's no longer with us. I miss him too, intensely, so I understood. But she said she was ready to "go". She said she wanted to be with him again and she was only waiting around to see me married.
"When do you think you might settle down? Is there anyone you're looking at?" she said.
She doesn't know of the famine. She doesn't know I'm abstaining in the name of change. She doesn't know my record of dating and pining and loving and leaving the same type of crazy man over and over and over again. White bread lovers. Best to keep that to myself.
"No one in particular" I said. "It'll happen, and I don't want you to be sad."

So the tears...
Isn't it strange how a tear looks like nothing, weighs nothing and carries millions of teeny tiny emotions in it's translucent body. Not nothing.
Wanting, more, desire, sexuality, sadness, deprivation, expectation, memory, hope, joy and of course fear.

I'm afraid. Famine has brought along many friends.
I'm afraid. Famine could mean she waits to leave...
And if I had said "Bubby, I know I'm single. I know you think I may be too old to marry now and I'm a great dissapointment, but look, I've learned bar chords!"
I don't think she would have been impressed...

Most probably why I'm not impressed.
Fucking bar chords...