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I once had this highbrow conversation with a friend about sex as a metaphor for artistic creation. Actually, my friend was the one being all highbrow explaining the idea to me while my head was swimming in legal substances. I can’t remember much of the discussion now and if I were to repeat his explanation in my own words, I’d only sound crass. But this conversation on sex as metaphor made me change my mind about the silliness of naming inanimate objects. When I got my Fender Squier after graduation, I decided to give all my guitars sexy male names. I spend a lot of time in my room making song babies with them, and I figured that the song baby-making is more fun when you can moan a porn star-like name throughout the artistic process. “Althusser, ohhh Althusser!”

Yesterday afternoon was spent at Park Square, paying for the newest member of the male harem with my very own money. (Technically it’s not my own money since I didn’t have enough cash and I had to borrow the rest from my mom, with Starbucks coffee as interest.) Sebastian is a steel acoustic guitar made out of spruce with a built in equalizer and tuner. Not only did he come with an amp; a guitar stand, strap, cappo, and a bunch of picks was part of the entire package! All for the lovely price of eight thousand pesos. My mom has l33tzor bargaining skills that I can never hope to inherit. O_O

Sebastian’s namesake is not the character from Cruel Intentions as Kristel first thought it was. It’s actually from the soundtrack of Velvet Goldmine–the song that Brian Slade performs in the Woodstock-like festival. Useless bit of trivia that might be important should I ever make it to the ranks of the great guitar gods of all time.

The moment I got home I immediately freed Sebastian from his protective polyester prison and kept on messing around with him for the next three hours. Most of the evening was spent trying to learn how to become like my guitar heroes–Elliott Smith and Miyavi. Waltz #2 is the first song I played on Sebastian and I’ve been trying to learn this beautiful yet insanely difficult version. I don’t know how he does both the lead and rhythm at the same time, but soon I shall learn!

Miyavi is an unbelievably talented and unbelievably good-looking Japanese musician. Every girl I know who’s seen any of his videos or pictures wants to go to Japan and fuck him. But not me. Who wants to fuck Miyavi when you can try to be Miyavi? His cover of Blew by Nirvana is nothing short of amazing and if anyone injects pure caffeine directly into my bloodstream I could probably do it too. Sort of.

Finally, now that I have an acoustic guitar that isn’t a total bitch to use, I finally have something to look forward to during boring lunch hours at work. w00t!