Meg: “________ is one of those Bang on A Can-type composers, and (s)he’s cute. (S)He’ll go far.”
Me: “Man, fuck those composers. Nah, I’m just jealous of them. Lisa Preimesberger told me that I should try out for the BOAC festival, that I would fit right in. But I’m not a rockstar!”
Meg: “Yeah, _______’s a transplant.”
Me: “Fuck that! I didn’t spend eleven years of my life trying to gain legitimacy, only to be supplanted by a guitar player!”
Meg: “But you can’t play piano. You’re not a legitimate composer that way, either.”
Me: …
Meg: “Bring it!”
Me: “That, right there, is the kernel from which all of my music comes from!”