Friday, December 25, 2009


Like birds on a wire, we sit, facing off into the same distance

Really? Because I never understood that. I mean, what if a human was sitting on the wire? Would we get electrocuted too?
There's no way in hell it would support a human, not even a child.
Well, work with me here, please.
I don't know. Weren't you paying attention in high school?
She twists her cigarette into the slate table. Nah. I don't know.
Whatever. All I remember is being told electricity was like water in pipes, but totally different.

Today, Christmas morning:
Joyce, look at that bird.
Jesus, don't move so fast, you'll frighten him.
How do you know it's a him?
Erin, please.
Is it an owl?
Do we even have owls?
I can't see. My neck hurts.
No, Maggie said she saw an owl the other day, a white one. Does this one have a collar?
And it had a wide head!
Well. Then it must be an owl.

I didn't get a good look, but nothing about the bird looked like an owl.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Christmas Eve

Met Thomas for coffee. +1

Practiced. +1

Went to the Met. Usually avoid grocery stores on Christmas. Bought more than I could afford, gave $5 to the Salvation Army. +1

Practiced. +1

Went to my parents house with Thomas. Made cookies, drank wine, ate food, laughed at each other. +1. Things are going well.

Call Dr. S and drop off cookies. We talk. +1

"Oh, I have something for you guys."


"Yea, you two got some really bad reviews."

"For accompanying?" I'm shocked. I thought things went well this year. I worked really hard and it paid off. Or so I assumed.

She shuffles through a stack of purple. "Yea, Erin, Maria gave you really good reviews. But... Let's see, Lucas, Thomas, Lindsay...." Merry Fucking Christmas, says the two purple sheets, you are horrible. One sheet is signed. "Wrong notes everywhere, I thought you were going to have to stop." I don't think I'm being naive when I can't even think of a piece I played that was that bad. The only thing that comes to mind is the orchestra reduction of a Mozart aria, which did not sound like an orchestra, as it was played on a piano. The other is anonymous, written out for "Aron," and is just a checklist of poor marks. No faculty signature, no comments. -10

I start to cry in front of Thomas, my professor, and her family. -1909398433

I can't stop sniffling. -15.

"Don't let this get to you. Don't accompany singers anymore."
"Yea, but this is what I want to do for gra-a-a-a-a-waaaaaaaaah"-infinity^593

Go home. Cry for awhile. It's like my eyes are lactating. I have no control over this, it's the worst time, and my shirt is spotty. -doesn't even matter now.

Family laughs extra hard at my jokes. +1

Monday, December 7, 2009

December 7th

Music my mood is seeking: Mozart's Requiem. Thinking about Croatian cathedrals, brick paths, bright jewelry, peacocks, felted wool. I'm removed enough from my experience that the reminiscing has begun.

Cold here. Sat in my car for 20 minutes because it was so warm. Space heater is starting to smell like a hair dryer left on for too long.

Got a pedi-egg today, one of those foot shaver things. Easily one of the most disgusting purchases I’ve made, ever. It goes with the fascination I’m assuming is natural to humans, of what the body can produce (“wow, I can’t believe this came out of my ear!” “I’m going to pop this massive zit in this seedy bar bathroom!” “Your kids are so lovely!”). The shavings are collected at the bottom of the clear pink plastic egg. I made the mistake of running my finger around the rim. The flakes, instead of feeling dry as I expected, resemble more what I imagine human ashes feel like.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

December Already

No, this should be called Reflections on May, when I didn't wear a sweater, bare arms against dirty windows on the train to the old apartment with high ceilings and lavendar walls, the two small dogs that greeted me outside the elevator, the tea waiting for me upon arrival in cooler months replaced by handfuls of chocolate shoved in my pockets on my way out.

I mean, who knows what will happen. Maybe the world will end in 2012.
Oh, it won't do that. She shakes her head, big sleeves hang from her shoulders.
You sound so sure.
Her eyes are earnest, wide. No, it's not the end of the world. Not like that, at least. It's just going to be a new way of thinking, an age of understanding.
The uebermensch?
Ja, verstehst?
I nod.
And there's nothing to worry about.