Tell you what.
Get fired from your job, and struggle for a while on your wife's salary as a waitress. Get kicked out of the house when she gets tired of supporting your lazy, worthless, but artistic ass.
Find a room with a friend. Start drinking. A lot. Start selling all your gear because you can't seem to find the motivation to find a job. Run out of money and friends.
When you find yourself on the street corner with nothing but a the dirty clothes on your back, a half-pint of rot-gut tequila, and the cheap
acoustic guitar that is your only remaining piece of musical gear, which you will be taking to the pawn shop tomorrow, sit down and play the fucking thing while you still have it.
You will then have some blues licks and won't have to come to some message board to find them.
(Not that I know anything about this personally, you understand, that's just how I've always heard blues players are born.

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