A day or so I awoke at 5 AM with a pounding heart; another day
in a perpetual month-long anxiety attack. Bordering on consciousness, I whiled
away the next few hours in a delirium, counting each heartbeat, once again mind
filled with lunacy.
Eventually, I pulled myself together enough to play an 11am jury
at the Manhattan School an hour away, and I somehow mastered the 45-degree
pitch of my hands to make it through the Prokofieff G minor Concerto and
the violinist’s Debussy Sonata.
I’ve now found the words to describe the august faculty at
Manhattan; not dead, but decomposing, each vying for the most baldly convincing
expression of contempt towards these young aspirants.
Rushed to Juilliard for a 12:20…..
