Posts Tagged ‘procrastination’

I’m working on Syntax One homework

and listening to Queens of the Stone Age

and I dearly hope

that the Apple word processing software known as Page

s doesn’t quit up on me

which would be like being attacked by a swarm of Brobdingnagian bees

which would fill me with great rage,

you see.


It’s gray and sort of foggy outside

which makes it sort of ideal weather to hide

and for that reason I might want to sneak away

to do my homework some other day

and I’m starting to ask myself, “Why?

Why am I not slacking off and watching Firefly?”


But even though I really want to rewatch Firefly (or possible Buffy)

I know I can’t, because as for me

I have to get a good grade

so that I can someday get paid

if I choose to go into the field of linguistics

which is my backup plan if this whole writing thing doesn’t stick.

That would ensadden me.

I would ensaddened be.

My sadness would be multiplied by a certain number

(which in my head is made out of lumber)

and the number of the number is equalling three.


And because I’m bored and want to be off watching Joss Whedon productions,

I have suddenly decided to create a sudden drop (or reduction)

in the quality and goodness of my poetic rhymes.

If these poems were published in a book, they wouldn’t be worth two dimes.

(The meter is fetid, and it smells like toe slime.)

You don’t want to listen to me anymore? Fine.

I’m going to go away and make my homework the shit,

so I can get a good mark,

a shot in the dark,

I thank you for your time.

It’s been legit.

But now I have to run.

It’s been fun.

I thank you, gentle reader, for reading my fine poetries,

and hope that you are not ever stung to death by a horde of angry bees.


(with apologies to William McGonagall)


The Classic: My dog ate my laptop. No, seriously. She just walked right in here and started chowing down. Terrible, I know! I was able to save the hard disk, and I have backups, but the computer’s totally destroyed. So I’m going to have to wait to get a new one before I start writing.

The Hipster: I can’t find a proper coffee shop to do my writing in! I need a coffee shop that has fresh free-trade organic coffee, as well as downtempo ambient music and a cute barista with a nose piercing and a nice rack. Anything other than such a coffee shop will simply JUST NOT DO. Since I can’t find this elusive vendor of caffeinated beverages, I simply cannot write.

The Hassled Parent: My three-year-old daughter fell off the kitchen counter and twisted her ankle. I had to take her to the emergency room, and when I came back I found that the nineteen-month-old had eaten a jumbo box of Crayolas and was pooping out rainbows. I had to go to the emergency room again, naturally, and when I came home, my loving wife who decided to keep working after we had kids came home, so I made her dinner and gave her a backrub before we went to bed at 9 pm.

The Freshman: Ohmygod, I had this MASSIVE paper that I had to write for my Psych 101 class, it was like SIX pages long, my professor is such a BI-OTCH! Anyway, when I was done my friend Natalie came over and wanted to smoke some weed and so I got out my bong, and then I forgot what happened until you just came in.

The Penthouse Forum: I was trying to write when this gorgeous redhead with massive double-D hooters walked in, fixed me with a fiery green-eyed stare, and then ripped off my pants, when we made hot sticky animal love all day on the kitchen table. Seriously. This actually happened. We sexed, and it was hot.

The Otaku: I stayed up until four in the morning watching Samurai Champloo. What? Like you haven’t done the same thing.

The Hyperactive Six-Year-Old: I tried to, but then a bunch of ninjas ran into the room waving laser swords, which are like lightsabers only bigger and awesomer, and I hat to fight them! So I got on my rocket skateboard and summoned my thousand-foot-tall dinosaur-dragon REXTOR XR™, and Batman came and punched a guy in the nuts, and… and… what? Why don’t you believe me? PLEASE BELIEVE ME!

The Put-On-The-Spot: Why I haven’t been writing? Well… um… there’s a funny story about that… um… *points* HEY LOOK A DISTRACTION! *runs away*

The Lights-On-Nobody-Home: *black stare* *drool coming out of corner of mouth*

The Bodhisattva: I was achieving inner tranquility.

The Actual: I was making a list of excuses for not working on your book for my lame blog.

~ Ian

  1. Write a short story reimagining Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus as a odd couple/buddy comedy sitcom set in an apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
  2. Summarize the plot of the last book that you read– in pantoum form.
  3. Come up with a list of titles of terrible-sounding 1930s pulp stories (“She-Devil in Silk Stockings”, “Deadeye Dorgan and the Sarsaparilla Stagecoach Job”), and then write a summary of each story.
  4. Spill a glass of milk onto the floor, then copy the outline of the puddle onto a sheet of paper. Imagine the outline of the puddle as the shape of an undiscovered continent, then create forests, mountains, rivers, cities, and countries for this imaginary place. Describe its cultures, languages, and economy, and then take the role the leader of one of the countries. Plan a war against your country’s bitterest rival.
  5. Write a sestina on the theme of the last time you went to the bathroom.
  6. Write a fanfiction story so bad that people will know that you’re joking. (Hint: this is impossible.)
  7. Take your favorite TV show from the 1970s. Then, make an outline for a blockbuster Hollywood remake of it, starring Shia LeBoeuf and Brooklyn Decker.
  8. Write a commercial from the year 2459.
  9. Pretend you are a journalist. Write a dismissive review for an imaginary band’s new album. (You may choose the band’s name, genre, and the album title.)
  10. Watch Firefly for the seventeenth time.
  11. Go to a hip-hop club dressed in Goth clothing. Look uncomfortable. Smile nervously at people. Take notes on their reactions.
  12. Invent four new words for imaginary colors.
  13. Dress up in Pioneer clothing, then take a little red wagon out, add three Hula Hoops and a tarp, and walk around your neighborhood, saying that you are going to Oregon to look for gold. Note their reactions.
  14. Make up a language, then go to the mall and engage people in conversations in your imaginary language. Note their reactions.
  15. Watch Blade Runner for the seventeenth time.
  16. Get a friend, dress up in nice shirts, ties, slacks, and sensible shoes, then go around your neighborhood, knocking on doors, and handing out Satanist tracts. (Alternately you and your friend could dress up like Hell’s Angels and canvas for the Mormons.) Note their reactions.
  17. Think of your favorite novel. Then, reimagine it as an erotic cyberpunk thriller. (If your favorite novel is already a cyberpunk horror thriller, then reimagine it as an earnest literary novel about a fortysomething white male writer having a midlife crisis.)
  18. Eat a pound of cookie dough ice cream and fall asleep on the couch. Record the horrifying nightmares about being chased by cookie-shaped ooze monsters that result.
  19. Go to an anime convention dressed as a Vulcan. Note people’s reactions.
  20. Write a list of writing exercises on your lame blog rather than actually doing any goddamn work.