Keith's Journal

This is mainly for my own benefit. I want Keith to learn to play an instrument, and guitar seemed like a good choice for him. But I know I would never forgive myself if I just "gave" him the ability to play guitar, so I'll write down his little misadventures here. They're written in 1st person from Keith's perspective, over winter break. There should be about 10.


Went to my first guitar lesson today.

It was fun, I geuss guess. Though the instructor is kinda weird. Though also awesome. I'll get to him in a second.

I got home today actually, through portkey. Mom and Dad surprised me with the guitar, I can't even remember when I said I wanted it. But my first semester grades were good, so they decided to treat me. It's nice, but fairly standard, I actually took a picture:

Spoiler:

So yeah, I like it. At least they didn't get me acoustic. I would've had to smack a B****. (though Mom would kill me if I said that to her face)

The lesson place is small, and at first we thought it was closed cause all the lights were out. But the door says open and we walk in and this crazy drunk guy starts yelling at us. Mom would've blasted him and even Dad's hand was halfway to his wand, but they realized that that was my instructor and stopped themselves. Apparently he wasn't drunk, just hungover. He was scottish, from his accent, and looked (and smelled) like he hadn't showered in a week. He was wearing sunglasses, even though the place was pitch black, but after everything calmed down we started on my lesson. He told me to call him Chance, even though that can't be his real name, but that doesn't really matter.

It was really boring. We learned the first 3 strings, and Chance has a habit of chucking things at me when I mess up. Mostly baseballs and empty (or half empty) beer bottles. I learned fast which is all that matters. At least thats what Chance told me.

I can't say I'm looking forward to our next lesson.

Second guitar lesson today. Mom wasn't thrilled about it after I came home from the last one with bruises, but dad just laughed and healed them. They fought about it, when they thought I was asleep. Mom said that it was too dangerous and Dad said that as long as the guy didn't kill me they could patch me back up with magic. He said Chance was highly regarded as one of (if not the) best guitar teacher in the country, even if he had already been banned from both Scotland and the US.

Naturally, that wasn't very reassuring.

Chance hadn't changed much since last lesson, unfortunately. He had stayed up all last night drinking, but we did manage to squeeze in a bit of a lesson between our philosophical debates. He asked me if God existed and I asked him why that was necessary for me to learn guitar. He told me that I can't play the guitar if I can't answer a simple question. (Well, he included a lot more cussing, but you get the idea) I told him that that wasn't a simple question at all and he asked me why. So I started talking and he countered with his argument, in song. We held the rest of the debate like that, so I guess I learned more than I thought at first.

I learned twinkle twinkle little star today. Next time I'm learning to play free bird. I thought that was a bit of jump, but Chance just hit me when I told him that.