Might As Well Laugh About It Now - Plot & Excerpts
Donny plays keyboards. Wayne plays guitar. I thought I had it bad playing the marimba, but my poor mom had to play the hot iron every day. I was playing guitar onstage, finally! It’s what I always really wanted to do . . . when I was twelve. Not anymore. I was certain the huge projection screens looming behind me were capturing a close-up of my fingers on the strings. Or, more likely, I was being caught with my fingers off the strings. I can only play four chords semi-well: G, C, D, and A-minor, the only ones I had the chance to learn as “a minor.” Oh, and Dolly Parton had taught me once how to bar chords, when we shared a backstage area on the country music circuit in the mid-1980s. She had learned that technique so she could play guitar and also keep her beautiful long fingernails. Smart woman. That’s the extent of my six-string virtuosity. I couldn’t even turn sideways to hide my minimal playing skills without being caught on camera. My brothers thought it would be cool to film this concert from all directions: all 360 degrees.
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