My Dear Old Godin

I was over at Daniel's, and read his post about his old guitar and he mentioned somewhere that it's just lying around and with a snapped neck. That brought memories of my own.

When I was in high school, my dad gave me a Godin guitar. A rookie like me didn't deserve such a one, but what the heck, it was a present from my dad, out of his collection.

I loved it. It would go with me everywhere I went. At the time, I'd always hop on a flight here to KL from KK, since my sisters were both in universities around here. And so the guitar hopped with me.

After a few years, when I myself came to K for my own studies, good ole Godin stayed with me. It served as my entertainment, my instrument for our very own midnight concerts with my brother, my stressblaster. I think it was pretty much my sanity, apart from books, since we didn't have internet in that place. For 2 whole years. So yes, it was important to me, twofold.

Anyhow, there was this one time that I went back to KK and decided to leave it in KL. I was thinking since my cousin (who also plays the guitar) was there, nothing would happen to mine. How wrong was I.

A friend called to borrow it (Let's call him A), and though I was reluctant, I told myself, people who play any kind of instrument would always take care of others. It's a sort of empathy that we share, a sort of constant reminder saying "You wouldn't want anything to happen to your own, would you?" So, in camaraderie, all instruments are well taken care of. Or they should be.

Anyway, I got a call one night from another friend (Call this one B? He stays with A in the same apartment) asking to talk to my sister. I pass the phone, and after about 5 minutes she runs to me, all jumping and hopping and covering her mouth trying not to squeak. I felt a sense of foreboding. I didn't want to touch the phone, I tell you.

But it was either that or fling it to the floor, and since my mom wouldn't have bought me another cell if I did, I decided to suck it up and talk to the guy.

To sum it up, he told me someone (Let's call this freak of an idiot C) murdered my guitar. Clear snapped the neck in two. How? C was staying over A's and B's place for a few days and saw my guitar in A's room (A was out of town.. he's an idiot too.. why didn't he send it back to my place?) and asked B if he could use it for a bit. B said sure (another idiot). C was standing under a ceiling fan (of all places) while rocking it, and when he was done, he raised the guitar to "get the shoulder strap off". Anyhow, fan and guitar collided, and guitar lost.

It's been 4 or 5 years now. I get calls from either of them once in awhile, asking me - again and again - if I want it fixed or if they should get me a new one. I require vengeance. So I told them to fix it. Its a lot harder than getting a new one. Besides, even if it's near impossible, it was a present from my dad. I refuse to part from it (although the parts [Yes, I say parts...*sigh*] aren't with me... I couldn't stand looking at them that way) in spirit.

I get bitter every time I see somebody perform with a Godin. 5 years of bitterness isn't an easy thing to bear. I didn't think I was capable of hating somebody, but thinking about it again makes me come about as close as I can to the feeling. Let's say I dislike them immensely.

I hope somebody breaks their equipments. (Hey... I didn't mean that :P)