I'm in class right now. Inside I am rotten apples. Smooshed bananas. I am fruitflies growing on a compost pile.

Basho and I got into it tonight. He escaped at the exact moment I had to walk out the door to class, to here. I spent 40 minutes tracking him down, got my fancy teacher pants all fucked up and my stupid ass big heeled shoes tore my feet to pieces because I was so frantic I was running like the wind in these stupid stupid shoes.

The kind woman who lives at the end of my street--send her you nicest thoughts. She helped me get the damned pooch back. She worked hard to help. In the end she brought out this ancient, ancient creature--a dog nearing 20 years old. Basho came round for that. I was so mad I wanted to yell and throw him down. I wanted to make him worry and fear. Don't worry. I just walked him back home and told him to sit and to stay and he knew I meant business. Then I kissed him on his ear. Damned dog.

I didn't, therefore, plan this class. I'm having em do some half-baked plan I came up with on the harrowing drive down here. I'm starving. I'm tired. I'm a bundle of irritated nerves and worried ones too. Basho ran straight for the damned highway tonight and he would not come back. I haven't been spending enough time with him. Damn this country. I should be able to take him to work and to restaurants and to class even.

Ok. They're fixing to act out scenes from A Raisin in the Sun (which Lauren tells me she didn't read, in that way she has of saying it, like "you fucking bitch of an idiot, of course I didn't read it. Stupid.") and The Glass Menagerie. I probably spelled that wrong. My head hurts. I want someone to watch over me. For a minute I do.