I’ve been obsessing about my guitars lately, because I have them out on a stand now and I’m worried about whether they have enough humidity. So when I stopped by DiPinto Guitars to get the neck adjusted on my old Kay archtop (thanks, L.!), I asked Chris if it was safe to leave the rest of them out in my apartment.

“What kind of heat do you have, radiators?” he said. “I have this humidity gauge and a humidifier that goes on when I need it.” I told him I did not have one square foot to spare for a humidifier. “I did get a couple of those humidifiers you stick in the soundholes for my acoustics.”

“That’s all you need,” he said. “You only have to worry about the acoustics, anyway.” That hadn’t occurred to me. (Duh! You can always buy a new bolt-on neck for an electric!)

We got started talking about old guitars, and I said how I’d always been really good at finding no-name guitars that band boys made fun of, but turned out to be really good guitars, often collectibles. I told him I was very protective of my misfit guitars. He smiled.

“I deal with a lot of famous musicians who come in, and you know, their bands are the same way. They don’t care about the brand name or model or anything else. They want to know how it sounds and how it feels, and that’s all they care about,” he said. “The people who care about the brand names aren’t usually the really good musicians. Touring guys are always trying the no-names, it excites them to find a good one.”

I just love that.

I live in an industrial area, and someone must be illegally releasing fumes. No other explanation for waking up with swollen, weepy eyes. I mean, I should be able to crack a window during a friggin’ ice storm – I know it’s not pollen at this time of year!

Was in my local cafe tonight and found out that several of the people injured in last night’s gas explosion were relatives of the owners’ babysitter. Several people in critical condition, things are pretty bad.