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I used to be a semi-professional pianist. I took lessons from a woman named Ruby in Prospect Heights. Ruby had a great apartment with white leather sofas, huge mirror, a chandelier and a grand piano. I helped fix her air conditioner sometimes. She wanted to be for me who Nadia Boulanger was for Quincy Jones. She was from somewhere in the Carribbean, in her late 30s I think; he had also had kidney failure and was on dialysis.

One day I went over to her apartment and in the middle of the lesson, in which she generally skipped all over the place anyway (which was good for me), anyway she disappeared and returned five minutes later with her hair made up, in a sequined evening dress. She explained that I was going to accompany her while she sang. "Just pretend I'm Gladys Knight, and standing right behind me we have 3 pips."
Tuesday, Mar 02 2010