What you find, what you feel, what you know to be Real

And you thought I was going to opine about Gonzon-gate. Eh? Eh? Oh, nevermind.

It's been a while for me here, in this new town to find some truly edificational musical companionship. And if there is a bible of tunes for once-or anytime jazz musicians to congregate with it's the much dog-eared Real Book of jazz standards.
These charts look like this, y'see

Those dots and squiggles you see are the notes you're supposed to play. It is evident I never got particularly good at reading these things. But I have a good ear and a fair memory of what I would call geometric patterns on the guitar which I can recall certain tunes that I am familiar with.
So I encountered a guy my age with a large apartment accomodating many guitars (and plants) and amps. On this "wintry mix" of a night we jammed, if you will, on several tunes. As is usually the case, he was the slightly better reader and played correct chords in a mellow style, passing as a decent jazz guitar player. I brought my amplified acoustic classical guitar, adding the distinctive Brazilian flavor and ripped and shredded leads, mangled melodies and chopped and crunched some chords in accompaniment. It appeared that we were on a similar level and quite compatable, as well as getting along pleasantly in a social manner. Yes folks, good things happen with a bit of patience.
Um, where's the sarcasm? Oh fuck it.
Monday I'll be jamming with some old guy on barrelhouse piano. 1930's era style. Something different.