I have been sitting here for over two months not building anything.  The closest I got was after the snow finally melted away two weekends ago, I moved most all of the tools from my winter shop in the basement back out into the barn where I work the other three seasons.  

I have a few necks roughed in, a few blanks, some boxes that are in the state of becoming a guitar and other bits and pieces here and there.  I feel fairly well organized.  All the tools that were once scattered between two shops are in their correct places where I like to do each task.  The floor is fairly well swept and I look ready to start.  I have a lot of great cigar boxes and tins and I have another Sawzall box ready for cutting.

But I find little interest in either picking up where I've left off on a handful of guitars, or starting anything else.  I have stood in front of the workbench with parts in front of me.  Just standing there, pushing them around like a toddler does with veggies he doesn't want to eat.  Those used humbuckers I put a relic finish on are the green garden peas of my life right now.

There's more in the making, but it is different.

There are three tangible things that have squashed this inner desire to build another guitar.  First, is getting out to really perform.  It is only 3 songs and it is an open mic, but it was a transforming experience.  No one can suck worse than I did the first time.  Don't let it stop you from trying it out even if you only have the smallest desire.  No one is going to cut you.  Second, I have this Sawzall box dobro I built.  I made two electric Sawzall box guitars with humbuckers before making a resonator.  To me, this one is a real personal achievement.  In my mind, I don't know how I will make a guitar much better than this one.  Please don't misread that to state I've made the best guitar ever.  Just my personal best.  I'll save the third thing for the very end of this post.

I played my first open mic a couple months ago and blogged about how terrible I was and how a few in the crowd kind of dismissed my instrument and me.  I deserved it.  I didn't show up prepared and stunk everything up really badly.  It was like a seeing bad tattoo of a train wreck with a little revealing of a naughty body part while sucking on a lemon.  You couldn't help but look, but it was terrible.

Despite the atrocity, something sparked that night and just about squashed my immediate desire to get back to the workbench and create something there.  Instead, my Sawzall box dobro has hardly left a space within arms reach.  For my second open mic, I put in considerable preparation and chose three songs I could do well and would make an impression with the audience.  I was high off that experience for weeks.  I came home that night and put the guitar down, but really didn't sleep too well.  The next day, I picked it up and decided on two of the three songs for the next month.

Tonight is my third open mic at Caffe Lena and I have been practicing so much my hands are sore.  Two days ago I finally decided on my third song which is the middle of my set.  I struggled with wanting to play something with my new slide I got from Shane Speal, The Edge, but that was just feeling like something stuffed in the middle.  When I made a lot of presentations at conferences, or for customers, I used to say, "put whatever you must tell the customer, but what you want them to remember least in the middle."  My second songs were fitting that perfectly until a couple days ago.

That third thing that has quenched my thirst and slowed me down in the workshop?  I'm really happy about this one and I'll take the risk of sounding like an insufferable, self-serving fanboy.  I got one of my guitars to a pro performer, something that I never considered when I started making guitars for myself.  It didn't happen because I wanted profit or endorsement which I had unsuccessfully considered over the winter.  Instead of focusing on the tangible benefit, I went after what I really wanted, which was just to know a guitar I made is out on stage and played by someone far more talented than I am.  The guitar has a great life out there and is connected with someone else.  I get to live a little bit on stage anytime I get to see a picture of it out there in the wild.  I get the same feeling when Clock or Oily share a video using their guitars that I built.

The pics below are Frank Blinkal of "Frank Bang and the Secret Stash" playing my Sawzall Box Guitar in Chicago.  One of his songs, "Double Dare" meant a lot to me the first time I heard it.  It was one of three times that music played a role in changing my life.

Woke up this mornin', cut off all my hair

Went for my secret stash, but all my cupboards were bare

No one promised tomorrow. No one said life would be fair.

No one promised me anything. Life's just a double dare.

I played a double dare the morning I heard that song the first time and life changed tremendously for the better after I did.  By coincidence, I had just buzzed off all my hair that morning.  It charges me up when I know I have a challenge in front of me.  The killer guitar riff and the song made me an unstoppable force that morning. The guitar says "thanks" for that.

So I've kind of found my happy place for awhile.  The weather is finally turning nicer and I plan to spend plenty of time busking in nearby Saratoga Springs along with the monthly open mics at Caffe Lena and  I have a cousin's wedding in October at Dave Matthew's winery in VA where I'll be playing prior to the ceremony and the bridal march.  I don't know when the urge to build another guitar, or finish what I have will strike me again, but I realize that if I try to force it, it won't fit.  I'll either need some external inspiration from someone wanting a Sawzall box guitar or my CBG-maker-muse to show up again.  I envision my stash of cigar boxes collecting dust for awhile.