Due partially to poor planning from my part, I am now in serious financial troubles (at least by my standards). I owe Hydro well over 1000$, a couple hundreds to the phone company, a couple hundreds for cable and internet, over 5000$ in income tax, and a whole bunch of other little debts that have accumulated over the past 2 years.

A few months ago I've had to sell my precious, beautiful Fender Rhodes piano, an instrument so exquisite in timbre and appearance (read: sexy like hell) and the thought of it still brings tears to my eyes. I also sold my yummy, silky smooth Moog Opus 3 synth. Really sad, indeed.

Today I came home and decided it's time to sell some more gear and pay off a couple of bills. I took a long look at my guitar amp and decided it was next in line.

I made it to the back of my car with the speaker cabinet and the phone rang; so I left it there went inside and picked up the phone. It was Stephane, a guy I used to be in a band with, years ago. We talked for a few minutes.

After I hung up the phone that's when it hit me: I can't sell it.

I remembered the late nights when we used to jam and write inane little grunge songs. I remembered the bad flannel shirts. I remembered getting drunk or high, or both, and playing Sebadoh and Nirvana and Sonic Youth covers with the lights turned off, in our tiny practice space. Screaming into the microphone, deafened by incessant feedback. I remembered the gentle hum of the amplifier, waking up on the basement floor the next morning, lighting a cigarette and making beautiful noise with the reverb turned up all the way and plenty of feedback.

I also remembered our first shows in really lame ass venues.. the uninterested looks.. the few handfuls of fans. No horny groupies, unfortunately; but a lot of memories.

Music VS Money - Round 1: Music wins

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