Twas the night before Bookish,
the deadline in sight.
My brain was straight-crazy;
my forehead, quite tight.
That chapter is missing,
it must be somewhere.
Oh this shit is awful,
I don’t even care.
Dan was all cuddly
reading books in our bed,
hoping I’d take a break
to give him some…NyQuil.
I don’t know where this is going,
I haven’t a map.
Why did I set such a deadline?
These pages are crap.
My head was going blank,
the state of things sadder,
when I thought of my pipe
that old clay Mad Hatter.
I could smoke me some weed
or even some hash.
It’d be like my own private party,
a Bookish Eve Bash!
This had worked in the past
at my childhood home.
A few tokes of a joint
would yield bad teenage poems.
Weary of smoking and blogging,
I counted this out.
It was staying awake
I was worried about.
I tantrummed and cussed,
a dash of Tourette’s.
I can’t take an all-nighter
without cigarettes!
That wasn’t an option,
having quit years ago.
I can’t go through that again,
I’d rather do blow.
The clock was ticking away,
the hours just piddling.
I know what I need,
a 10-milligram Ritalin!
But drugs weren’t the answer,
I knew in my heart.
I’m not a kid anymore,
I can’t play that part.
Hard work and commitment,
that’s what this would take.
And sadly those traits
you just cannot fake.
So I sharpened my pencil
that trusty #2
then said, “Screw this,
a computer will do.”
Tap-tapping away,
on my face a wide smile.
I played the keys like a piano
on a blank new Word file.
sadkjlaskdj I wrote,
and kdjfadlf too.
I don’t think this counts,
but it’s so fun to do!
Now get down to business
no more messing around.
Although you are lost,
you must get yourself found.
Enough with procrastinating,
this most fatal of flaws.
Set some limits for yourself;
lay down some laws.
No Facebook, no e-mail, no perezhilton.com,
No crosswords, sudoku, or cybersex with John.*
So I started again,
this time with great ease.
Words starting flowing.
Finally, Jeez Louise!
Though one thing did get me,
I couldn’t resist.
Rhyming and meter
did seem to persist.
One last great distraction
made me its bitch.
Something wanted to be written
but which one was which?
My hand started moving,
my brain starting to roam.
The thing I delivered?
This fun little poem!
I’m going to bed now,
all-nighters, no more!
I’m not getting graded,
I’ll just always be poor.
It will be harder tomorrow,
my task is uphill.
But my man is still waiting
for his dose of NyQuil.
Bookish will be done,
all in good time.
I’ve got ‘til tomorrow
at 11:59!
*names have been changed to protect the innocent
P.S. It took everything in me not to rhyme all-nighter with pillow biter which I thought it was too offensive. (Clearly not so offensive that I couldn’t include it here to illustrate that I’m, indeed, hot like wasabi when I bust rhymes.)
5 comments:
I love you! Thanks for the Nyquil joke. I laughed very, very loudly. Hey, what's the bookish, anyway?! We have so much more catching up to do! Can't wait to see you in three weeks! LOVE LOVE LOVE!
Just realized this isn't a private message. Whatever, internet. Fuck right off.
Fantabulous, Lo! The bookish will arrive in its own time. Like a lot of babies, it has decided to be late. Maybe you'll have to induce it, or give it a Macduff style "untimely ripping", or maybe just wait and enjoy your "laying in". Loved the "Nyquil" and the "hot like wasabi".
V-dawg: I saw this after I did the whole baby analogy in the last entry. Great minds and all that... The "untimely ripping" made me cringe for a minute but I think no matter how long the gestation period is it's going to have to be "ripped." (I thought about extending the metaphor and including some thoughts about being "sewn back up" but I think I need a filter.) Why do I find it easier to make sex jokes now that I'm married? It's like it's sanctioned or something... Agree?
Jarvino---I only wish I had a recording of your laugh so I could listen to it in moments when I need joy.
The Bookish started as a deadline I set for myself to write a rough draft of a book in three months. It wasn't quite a book (and still isn't) so I call it a bookish. Every week (almost) I would write a little update on the bookish status which I called The Melliterary Spew. I'm thinking I'm going to get a glossary on here for such terms.
We'll discuss over java and pieces of cheese. Staying in NH for Christmas---holla! I'll try to get shopping/baking done early so we can play and I'm not all frantic like last year. (Remember how I went to the wrong coffee place?)
You're right, this isn't private. Fuck it. Want to be a guest columnist? OH MY GOD, let's post your police log e-mails---can we do that? Have your agent call my people.
Thanks for the GREAT poem Lo!!! I laughed me ass off!!! hahahahahahahahahhahahaahah!!!!
Still am......
Cherl: (I really feel more comfortable spelling it Chirl...is that okay?) Feels so good to make you laugh...thanks, as always, for all your support.
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