a fishy tale

L and i have a conversation about perfect pitch. he has it, in that he can immediately hear if someone’s off key, even if only a little (which is what prompts the conversation). surprisingly though, he really is not a good singer. but he’s great at tuning my guitar, he says. 

ok, for the record, though i learnt to play guitar when i was about 16 (not great, but functional enough to be able to accompany myself and write my songs), i  STILL cannot tune a guitar. and though L might have perfect pitch and likes tuning my guitar, i still prefer to use a tuner. that way i’m sure it’s the same every time. so i say, “sorry to inform you, but nothing comes between me and my tuner”.

he looks at me as if offended and i impetuously add, “well you know, it all depends on whether it’s spelled t-u-n-e-r  or  t-u-n-a…”. he looks baffled for a moment, but when i reach for a pen and draw him this graphic on a table napkin to illustrate,

table napkin doodle

 he guffaws.

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