Day of Getting Nothing Done...but there's still time

Feeling ashamed of yourself is the worst.
SO...let's see what I can do to turn it around now!

I have silly dreams

they're usually just a moment in time that I end up remembering...not always...but a lot. I just remembered a dream I had last night. I was trying to kiss someone and couldn't reach, and he said, "you have to leap for it."
kinda weird, eh?

One of the many revisions of one of my poems

I don't remember what version I have previously posted: this poem has been called several different things and has several different versions. I like this one best, I think: (it's been called "Mein Mind", "Toast and Jam"...something like that...here it is called "Sticky Situation"


Sticky Situation

Toast a drunk en madness
it burns when overdone

never was important – what it was all about –
needed only to realize
my part, or lack thereof.

You splattered me with your jam
it’s after midnight

seedy streets will be deserted –
raspberry-red cars
spread thin somnambulant
I won’t get stuck again.

I cruise down open road
in search of anything
but it’s not there.

fell face down in it
Murphy’s law –
peeled my face up off the floor, with pride.

revel in newly-found notion
this is not my problem

I can do nothing and it’s okay.

An old poem

Soiree

I lie in bed

staring at
bloated pillow,

imagining—

the impression
of your head
pressed in.

Filling in the rest
from memory.

Imagining us—
talking, joking, flirting;

Touching—
each other, with
stories, smiling, smelling

erotic stink
of the 400-count sheets.

Sandwich breath,
cigarette hair, maybe an
Eau de twelve hours ago.

A bedtime
cocktail
party—
dancesteps
of wit,
bubbly—
moods, and
perfect

soundtrack. Slowly,

The party draws
to an end I fall
asleep—

alone. Alone.

Poem

Not sure if I have posted this one, but it was inspired by Emily Dickinson's poem that starts "I cannot live with You."

----------------------------------
Dusty Cupboards

I’ve never owned a cupboard
or a shelf
behind which life exists

dainty gold spoons in
Irish teacups wait
to stir

Punchy stink of must—
insists on my reverence

cracked plates on the shelf
whisper to me about
failure

which persistently sits
on a veneer of dust

HEY! The voicemail hung up on me!

Man, I can babble into people's voicemail systems something fierce! (ever seen Swingers? Almost that bad!)

Two minutes in the life of Nicole's brain

I'm bored.
I'm lonely.
I think I'll listen to music.
What should I listen to?
Maybe Putumayo French cafe...
Yes. oh, no colon, huh, weird.
French people don't even listen to this music
well, if I'm going to listen to this, I might as well light that candle.
go get lighter..
OH FINE, if I'm going to listen to music by candle light, I will have an ice cream cone. GEEZ.
better write that on my blog
I didn't really think that last part; that would be way too sad.
p.s. I really need to get a new cd drive so that I can keep doing my French lessons.