Spent a little time with my dad this morning, in a way. I have his 1961 Epiphone Casino with me down south, in its original case, which of course is an absolute indestructible tank. They don't make shit like that anymore.
One of my dad's annoying (and now cherished) habits was that he rarely threw anything away. The compartments of that case are stuffed full of an entire life story of repair receipts, setlists, business cards and flyers from musicians met along the way, and even a couple of unopened sets of strings that are at least 30 years old, which are probably pure rust by now.
But the coup de gras was this hotel room key envelope from a Holiday Inn Express, from who-knows-what town. Keepin' it real, pops. Road warrior. No presidential suite for this gangsta. Hit the complimentary continental breakfast, throw down some shitty lukewarm coffee, then head on out for the next town and do it all over again.
Playa for life…