This is just to say:

Today I laughed so hard that I actually peed my pants a little.

I wasn't actually wearing pants, so I had to take off my panties and tights and stuff them in my boots (alao off because I felt weird wearing huge knee-high boots and no panties)

We have fun.

Last night I had the strangest dream

It really could have just been a continuation of the night. Fell asleep on their couch, four blankets, only one small piece of ground beef left on the table from our slightly illegally obtained feast.

We were in a bar. I kept on taking pictures, trying to get the bartender to match poses with the bear cutout moving across the top shelf, like a target at a fairground shooting game, stuck in a hula-la pose, arms waving to one side. Each picture I got made me laugh.

We went upstairs, to the hotel-dormitory above the bar, and started to cook a meal. I saw you, wearing a hairnet very similar to Scary Spice's 90's hair cones. Your girlfriend was stunningly gorgeous and madly sane. You ignored us, even though we had been talking loudly about you. I hoped you didn't hear.

I've lost my friends, and am with a married couple I vaguely know. He's lying on top of me. She's watching.
Now, he is going to lick up your leg, and you're going to enjoy it, she says. She does. He does. I don't, but feign interest as his tongue runs up my thigh, past my hip, beard tracing scratches in my skin.

I go downstairs, to the bar, to discover the bartender has been devoured by a bear.

Add:

Who even goes to bars alone anymore? Women, I mean. And I don't want to be bothered.
But how horrible would it be if I wasn't even bothered?

Maybe I will go tomorrow.

Cat is sitting behind me, on the back of the couch. We're not touching, he purrs in my ear. He never purrs like this, alone, without me. I feel his weight shift, he comes closer to me, hums in my ear, then moves away from me. Still purring. Cat, I cannot understand how your happiness is so independant from mine.

I want to get a drink. I know the dive bar, motorcycles in front, dimly lit, long hilly road, at least a half hour away. Or the one in the downtown boondocks, Christmas lights strung up year-round.

Maybe I'll go to the strip club, where there are rumors of wooden legs. All of these places are far, near naval bases, men my age only knowing a completely different life.

The cat crawls over my arms, ignoring my typing, up my arms, and starts to lick my ears, never silent, resting on my tattoo, claws gently digging into my shoulder.

January

Notes: Things to write about later
-Thomas moving in
-Why I am so angry at the Good Man who Once Plunged my Shit, and cannot get over something that really has no effect on me
-grad school grad school grad school. Or better yet, actually write my grad school essay

xmas

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.
Where?
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?
Yea!
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.

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?"

"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