guitars were the key

so, i am not always this way. There is only one time I really want to write something down that is not details about what i did this morning before the literally-only-2-to-5 days it takes me to forget those and most things that occur in my life - and that one other time is when i am feeling really, really bad. And then I use run-on sentences to boot. The point is, I am not always brooding, but what i have in my folder on my computer entitled 'writing stuffs' begs to differ. Except for this:

i know how to play the guitar. You’ll notice this is not something I say with pride, but neither with contempt or sadness. This is because, mostly, I am not very good. Not very good, in this case, meaning that a) I am not in a band (where even if you can't, people assume you can, indeed, play an instrument (this is before they hear your "demos") and I am thinking this would help to verify ones self-worth and sense of goodness at said instrument), and b) I cannot do a megadeth solo. “So,” you are saying to me, “You don’t actually know how to play the guitar.” Untrue. I can aptly play any song that contains chords. And I mean solely chords. And I mean the easier chords. I am no laughing matter around Christmas time and also at your local church’s youth group. Sometimes, when the chords are trained-monkey simple, I will do the thing where I play one part loudly and then the next part slowly, to make the slowly part mean more to those who are listening. You can be as good as this if you start playing right now, and then stop five to ten minutes later and repeat as necessary every two weeks or so. I have some recordings, they include my dog
So. Once, I was in New York. And not the city. I mean, like, the mountainous region where your cellular phone won’t work unless you stand on top of a car with a roll of aluminum foil in your other hand and while you do this you see in the distance a deer and a turkey standing close to each other, and your nature instinct tells you that these two woodland creatures could never be friends (other side of the tracks and such) and then you realize they are made of wood and when you squint you can see all of the bullet and arrowmarks which were left by the hunting club whose cabin you are staying in for the weekend. Anyone who is anyone knows that when you are in a place called Rome, New York, you are there for a thing called Point Rock Jam where men who are older than you set up lots of instruments and seem to play each one of them proficiently and do this thing called ‘jamming’, which sounds a lot like a Jimi Hendrix song, which, eventually, is what it actually becomes. You go here with your friend who has a relation to all of these Men (nothing funny, this isn't your family), because you like it when the hills are actually alive with the sound of music and you like roaming free through the woods, shooting guns which have never been licensed in any American state, and sleeping in a tent. The thing you do not like is bats. Bats are, in fact, the devil.

I found this today. It is, as you saw, two paragraphs. Two paragraphs that, far as I can see, have no relation to much of anything, least of all each other. But, oh, the point they prove.

I can no longer remember where I was going to go with this. i will work it out.