Improvisation and Humiliation
I arrive at a jam session with my friend Thomas. There are a lot of non-musician on-lookers, which sets my stage fright to twitching. The piano stands unoccupied and I am pressured into taking a stab at it. The band is playing Straight No Chaser, a tune I know very well, and my dream hands shake as I lay my fingers on the keys. Solo time: I dance across the ivories in clumpy farts of syncopated dissonance. I laugh at myself; maybe everyone will think I'm putting on a Thelonious Monk impression. I glance around the room. These people don't know Wynton Kelly from Wynton Marsalis. They're just thinking I sound like shit. Who am I kidding? They're right. After just two measures, I stand up and walk away from the piano. Dream ends.