It’s always a surprise when it arrives. Random. Not like the every Saturday delivery of TIME magazine (which, by the way, USED to be a real magazine). Maybe a head-to-head comparison isn’t fair, but the arrival of FRETBOARD JOURNAL is almost cause for celebration.
My guitar-pickin’ acquaintances would certainly appreciate the chance to fawn over the pictures of exotic guitars, some of which are famous in their own right.
If we carried magazines at the shop, I’d have this one on the shelf – but I’m guessing that it is distributed only by subscription. No barcodes that I can see, and no pre-printed price on the front cover. Glossy pictures on slick, quality paper.
Come to think of it, the term ‘magazine’ probably doesn’t even apply. It says ‘journal’ right there on the front.
Turns out, the publication has magical qualities:
It has a print-shop scent, and each issue reminds me immediately of the printing class I took at the Vo-Tech campus as a high school senior.
The interviews with guitar-makers allow me a new appreciation for the construction of musical instrument. I’ve had git-fiddles around me most of my life, but never stopped to think about what makes one instrument sound better than another.
My routine gets prompted and I’m anxious to pick up and practice or play.
And – when I open that finely-constructed cardboard packing box and realize that FRETBOARD has arrived – it makes me think of Linda and Dennis, whose thoughtful gift lets me enjoy each new issue.
Keep pickin’ – they said.
(I’ve got blisters on my fingers.)