|To bring the pain even more...
||[Feb. 20th, 2004|03:38 pm]
...I made myself a torture device. It's a piece of paper with holes in it that fits over a page in my jazz voicings book so I can only see the chord symbols, not the notes. This way, I have no choice but to commit them to memory. I'm going to practice the fuck out of these voicings.
I was walking up to the door of a building as he happened to be leaving. He noticed me after he'd let go of the door, and he reached back to hold the door open for me, but missed. At that moment, our eyes met, and I could see the panic in his. He kind of lunged after the door, but by this time it was already almost closed, and he missed again. He blushed, mumbled "Sorry about that" and kind of shuffled off. I was laughing by this point and said "That's okay."
I wonder if I'm the only one who thinks that awkwardness is cute.