This is the piano that I have not touched in months. I love to play the piano. Mind you, I'm not good at it. In fact, I am surprised that I love to play the thing. When I was little, I hated playing it. I hated taking piano lessons, hated my teacher, hated practicing. Hated everything about the piano. Especially hated that my mom wanted me to take lessons. But now, almost 40 years later, I'm really glad she forced me to take lessons and didn't let me quit for a long time. It's too bad that I'm not a natural at it. I don't have the natural inner musical thing that makes great musicians. Or even decent musicians. When I play, the song is dead. I can't breathe life into it. I think thats because I get creatively constipated. I know I've used that in this post before, but I think it is what happens to me when I want to express myhself from that deeper place in me and then I can't seem to get there, or the deeper stuff can't seem to get out.
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