admission

When it came time for me to pick out my first guitar, I found myself drawn to the black ones, because, I guess, they looked cool? Different. Monty, the sales guy with the soft voice who unnervingly but patiently watched me strum the only two chords of Space Odyssey I knew against every guitar in the store, shrugged and said “hey, whatever inspires you,” before mentioning something salesman-y…

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