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Jica's a bad Jica. Very, very bad Jica.
Well done.
This post will probably be deleted/edited after I've slept.
Well done.
This post will probably be deleted/edited after I've slept.
Apr. 16th, 2006
Evil dreams
Apr. 16th, 2006 03:26 pmI had a really screwed up dream in which Shelley and Alana moved into my apartment and took it over, and I was chatting with Cindy (minion Cindy) but it turned out I was on Shelley's computer, and I'd saved the conversation and I couldn't find it before Shelley got back. And then Alana was about to walk me home and they had my blue leather patch coat. Which would not fit either of them. My blue leather patch coat. But I didn't think it was mine because I thought we were in France but turns out my apartment was on campus at MHC. And then I managed to get on the computer again and find Roxi, who had Cindy with her, and they were coming to get me so I could figure stuff out. And then I woke up.
Time for more chocolate bunny. And I really have got to get my act together about these papers.
I miss the Stimson Room like woah right now. It's the only place I know where I can crank out five pages in two hours that don't need to be edited. And it's Beltane/breakdown time right now, according to past patterns, which means my first reaction is to go get Caryn or MJ and hit the library. There's a library here but I'm not fond of it. Must cope.
Time for more chocolate bunny. And I really have got to get my act together about these papers.
I miss the Stimson Room like woah right now. It's the only place I know where I can crank out five pages in two hours that don't need to be edited. And it's Beltane/breakdown time right now, according to past patterns, which means my first reaction is to go get Caryn or MJ and hit the library. There's a library here but I'm not fond of it. Must cope.
more procrastination writing
Apr. 16th, 2006 11:29 pmEnjoy. It's untitled.
It’s too cold to be naked, but I couldn’t find my t-shirt when I left our bed. I woke up and you were gone, I’m looking for you. I walk through the long dark wallpapered hallway, feet slapping on the wood floor. I have goose bumps but I suddenly realize it isn’t cold, I am just chilled. I woke up disoriented from a strange dream of beaches, sea glass and driftwood under my feet. I was looking for something then, too. I have reached the end of the interminable nighttime hall, found the latch of the screen door, stepped out into the sweltering heat of the screen porch. There you are, curled up in my shirt, legs hanging over the side of the heavy cotton hammock I brought back from Uzès. I climb up beside you, kiss your nose. « Hey. » You look at me with faraway star eyes. « How long have you been out here ? » « You were dreaming, » you say, not really answering me, as I feel like I have been dreaming for months, years, as if I am dreaming now. I look at the sky, the moon, try to gauge time. It must be almost three by now. You turn, nestling into my shoulder and pulling my arm close around you. Your hair is against my cheek, soft, slightly damp and smelling like chamomile. « Did you shower ? » You nod, your head bumping softly against my chin. « It was hot. » Your breathing, the weight of you, the gentle sway of the hammock, are soothing me now, and I lay still, resting in your embrace. You look up, kiss me, your mouth unexpectedly cool, you have been sucking on the mint ice cubes we made earlier. I pull the t-shirt from you, admiring your pale skin in the moonlight, the curves of your body that I have just begun to learn. Kissing your collarbones, running my hands down your back. It’s almost too hot out to touch you. « It’s hot, » I say, echo. We are moving languidly, slowly, desire fighting with laziness and the strangeness of the hour. We lose the fight, we are heavy with dreams and cannot move. I regain sleep, the sound of your breath turning into the waves of the dream beach I walk until morning.
It’s too cold to be naked, but I couldn’t find my t-shirt when I left our bed. I woke up and you were gone, I’m looking for you. I walk through the long dark wallpapered hallway, feet slapping on the wood floor. I have goose bumps but I suddenly realize it isn’t cold, I am just chilled. I woke up disoriented from a strange dream of beaches, sea glass and driftwood under my feet. I was looking for something then, too. I have reached the end of the interminable nighttime hall, found the latch of the screen door, stepped out into the sweltering heat of the screen porch. There you are, curled up in my shirt, legs hanging over the side of the heavy cotton hammock I brought back from Uzès. I climb up beside you, kiss your nose. « Hey. » You look at me with faraway star eyes. « How long have you been out here ? » « You were dreaming, » you say, not really answering me, as I feel like I have been dreaming for months, years, as if I am dreaming now. I look at the sky, the moon, try to gauge time. It must be almost three by now. You turn, nestling into my shoulder and pulling my arm close around you. Your hair is against my cheek, soft, slightly damp and smelling like chamomile. « Did you shower ? » You nod, your head bumping softly against my chin. « It was hot. » Your breathing, the weight of you, the gentle sway of the hammock, are soothing me now, and I lay still, resting in your embrace. You look up, kiss me, your mouth unexpectedly cool, you have been sucking on the mint ice cubes we made earlier. I pull the t-shirt from you, admiring your pale skin in the moonlight, the curves of your body that I have just begun to learn. Kissing your collarbones, running my hands down your back. It’s almost too hot out to touch you. « It’s hot, » I say, echo. We are moving languidly, slowly, desire fighting with laziness and the strangeness of the hour. We lose the fight, we are heavy with dreams and cannot move. I regain sleep, the sound of your breath turning into the waves of the dream beach I walk until morning.
