I was playing the Steinway with a black gospel band. I couldn't play anything without music and they were trying to cure me of that. I was trying to explain that classical music told you exactly what to play and how long to hold notes and how fast to play it--it tells you everything. I was pointing out ties and phrasing. Every mark means something. And I said, "Those guys didn't waste ink!" The black man smiled and laughed a happy little relaxed laugh and he said, "Baby, black people go from directions that's invisible! And we're gonna try and teach you! I thought that was a brilliant thing to say. And when we played, my part was to slap down the wooden music stand "BAM" real loud with a slap every once in awhile. It was fun and I liked it, but I almost accidentally chopped this guy's head off. Then I had killed the plants cause I forgot to water them and we had to get some more with the dolly cart at the factory. Plants were wrapped, half-assed in brown paper and stacked to the ceiling. If you got one they'd all come falling down on your head and probably kill you. I was in a very old stone castle--huge--hanging over the ocean at the edge of a cliff. I was forgetting things. The roof was leaking. I wanted to watch the waves but workers were pestering me with government papers to fill out.