Music Rehearsal

I am in a room unlike the art studio dreams of my youth at Mercer, and surrounded by assorted hip musicians. They have invited me to participate with them, even though I have no musical background (this also eerily resembles a failed musical colloberatin I did as a teenager with a beautiful blond from Ohio, a desperately unhappy artist son of a wealthy businessman who just wanted to escape to NYC-he was obsessed with Bjork and Basquait, he had me do some vocals on a cheap recorder he had at the dorm in VT and he just couldn't capture the dark, rich smoothness of my voice-few recorders can-only the phone does it especially well). I am listening intently to a song of theirs that is fuzzy, Fugazi-like-but the tempo doesn't change too much. I recommend changing a few arrangements and the room goes silent. One of the guys goes, "Well we normally do that on Sundays-critique. Today is the day for straight up music arrangement." And I feel incredibly embarrassed but realize they invited me on this day. I sit down and not looking at anyone say, "Then why the hell did you invite me down here TODAY? I don't want to criticize you all. I don't have the right. All I can do as a music lover is listen with a fresh ear and give you advice as someone new listening to your music what I would like to hear. It isn't fair to have me come down on the day as you as musicians, then be upset when I say something. Like, I understand. If someone came over and told me my colours were all wrong in a painting, and that the composition is shoddy-well, yeah, I would be fuckin pissed off, you know? BUT if I set some parameters, and they came over asking why I did some texture, colour choice shading, thickness of line, lighting, size-that I would appreciate." I pause in my tirade. A guy with a scruffy beard behind me takes up his hand and goes, "Roooaarrrrr". A helpful cute woman whose name is Emily (might be b/c that is the most popular name now-I read it before bed), says, "Bonnie, relax. Here is a list of musicians to listen to to really get us." I take it gratefully and laugh. "I am really sorry everyone. I just really want a cigarette." And i put my head in my arms and start laughing/crying.