Confessions of a Tap Dancer

This is a world where people stare blankly, waiting, in their boredom, for you to tap dance. Here's the thing. I'll tap dance on a dime. I'll tap dance if you ask unrudely. In fact, I'll tap dance even when there's no one's there at all, on the chance someone might pass by. Not to show off, or to compile credit, but merely to add my piece to the puzzle—which, in my reckoning, is the entire part of this corroborative art project. I tap dance just to tap dance. In fact, the only thing that can stop me from tap dancing is people staring blankly, waiting, in their boredom, for me to tap dance. In that circumstance, I used to tap dance desperately, trying to rouse...something. The dancing would suck, and I'd chalk it up to inconsistency. Then I developed some restraint with age. Dead eyes and entitled attitudes not only creeped me out—they'd always creeped me out—but they made me more reluctant to tap dance. I'd still occasionally give it a game go, but it never felt right. Now, at 63, I'm…