2I MUST HAVE told you this when I first came to your house. Dad made me choose between piano lessons and ballet lessons. He was so middle-class. He probably thought that if all
things failed, at least I could peddle my artistic wares on the streets. I appreciate what he did, I really do, but I wouldn’t be so crazy as to encourage my kids to be artists. They’d
look impressive and be quite a delight as long as they’re talented, but that’s a hard road. That road can nourish a man’s soul one minute and then ax-murder it the next.
The idea of me wearing a tutu was just too unbearable to even imagine, so I went ahead and cast my lot with the pianists. I was surprisingly not bad, maybe because I was quite amused with my
first piano book. It showed little chicks hatching every time a note was
