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Marr's Guitars (resized)
A Handmade, Electric cigar box guitar from (who else) Marr's Guitars. This one and several others are currently on sale - as of May 18 - on ebay
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Cigar Box Rockin' In May
I’ve never really been able to understand why so few people crave a life of solitude.
For most, or so it seems, having a large circle of friends, a plethora of peripheral acquaintances and frequent conversation is as essential as food, water and oxygen. There’s no judgment there – different strokes and all that jazz – I simply don’t comprehend the need. The pleasure in such things eludes me.
I derive my greatest joy via living far off the beaten path. We’re not talking about merely residing in the country (I do that now; it strikes me as a very busy place). We’re talking about the spots where you might see a car once a month, where large critters share the backyard, where the only sounds are the wind through the trees, howls and crash-bangs in the forest, the whispers of silence.
Unavoidable circumstances have dictated that such is not my current situation, but the return to such a life is an aspiration I hold dear. Simplicity, to me, is the most valuable commodity in the world. For a goodly portion of my existence my homes were found in places where you split your own wood (since electricity was destined to fail at any given point, occasionally for weeks at a time). In these spots you didn’t walk outside without some sort of firearm. There was no fear of muggers or thieves, but there might well be the need to scare off a bear, moose or mountain lion (or, as in my last locale, to blow away a cottonmouth or copperhead). Though such a life can be difficult – I can’t count the number of times I’ve been penned in by ice storms, blizzards, floods, or winds that dropped trees across the semi-graveled paths – it provides a perspective I find calming.
When life is challenging, and when your surroundings are awe inspiring both in sight and in their natural power, you utterly forget about the mundane trivia and manufactured crises so prevalent in the “civilized” world. Truth of the matter . . . the civilized world, with it’s rules and regulations and social requirements . . . makes me more nervous than a cat in a room-full of rocking chairs. Hell, I keep a supply of happy pills on hand (doc prescribed . . . just for any law abiding vigilantes out there) for when things get a bit too intense. A people person I aint).
Only in the great out-there do I experience peace.
Espousing the need for little is viewed as a bit nutty in a culture based upon acquisition, upon climbing the ladder, upon striving to be king of the hill. My concept of near-perfect consists of contact with a few old and dear friends, a pack of dogs, a cabin that can’t be located on Google earth and an absence of technology.
Oh . . . and homemade guitars. The wilderness expects to be serenaded with blues riffs. It’s a fact. Look it up.
PS: Since a large portion of my time consists of building odd instruments that not all that many people want to buy (but they’re so damned much fun!) I’m tossing in a couple pics and a recent video of your’s truly being his hillbilly self.