All posts by Eric Robert Nolan

Eric Robert Nolan graduated from Mary Washington College in 1994 with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology. He spent several years a news reporter and editorial writer for the Culpeper Star Exponent in Culpeper, Virginia. His work has also appeared on the front pages of numerous newspapers in Virginia, including The Free Lance – Star and The Daily Progress. Eric entered the field of philanthropy in 1996, as a grant writer for nonprofit healthcare organizations. Eric’s poetry has been featured by Dead Beats Literary Blog, Dagda Publishing, The International War Veterans’ Poetry Archive, and elsewhere. His poetry will also be published by Illumen Magazine in its Spring 2014 issue.

Grandin Village, Virginia, March 2017

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Only in the South can you find an “ice cream and soda bar” on the main strip.  Some great friends of mine introduced me to “Pop’s” a couple of weeks ago.  Diet be damned; I can’t wait to find an excuse to go back.

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The below sign for Tae Kwon Do apparently advertises training in styles from “Traditional” through “WTF.”

I’d love to know what the “WTF” style of fighting is.  I’ll bet it’s something to see.

Below the sign is Grace’s Pizzeria.  (I wish I’d gotten a better picture.)  The pizza there is damn good, if a little extra greasy.

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Some more terrific art from Jennifer Shepit …

You just know I had to share the first two, given my penchant for canids.

Jen also told me that “ducks make horrible models,” as she had to follow them around to sketch them.  I think it would be hilarious to watch her work.

You can find her Etsy shop right here.

 

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9-11 Memorial in Salem, Virginia

Salem has its own 9-11 Memorial, beside Fire Station No. 1 at the corner of Calhoun and Market Streets.  (I am sorry that my photography skills here are quite poor.)  What you see below are two steel beams from the 33rd to 36th Floors of the World Trade Center’s North Tower.

I’ve seen several of these memorials in New York; I was surprised to find one so far south.

 

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Thomas Eakins’ “Music,” 1904

Oil on canvas.

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Don’t buy George Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty-Four.”

Not if you’d rather read it for free, that is.

I keep reading that it raced to the top of various bestseller lists at the end of January.  (And I can’t imagine why.)  That’s just great, but it’s also available to read for free at various places online.

Here’s one:  Nineteen Eighty-Four.

 

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“It was always at night — the arrests invariably happened at night. The sudden jerk out of sleep, the rough hand shaking your shoulder, the lights glaring in your eyes, the ring of hard faces round the bed. In the vast majority of cases there was no trial, no report of the arrest. People simply disappeared, always during the night. Your name was removed from the registers, every record of everything you had ever done was wiped out, your one-time existence was denied and then forgotten. You were abolished, annihilated: VAPORIZED was the usual word.

“For a moment he was seized by a kind of hysteria. He began writing in a hurried untidy scrawl:

“they’ll shoot me i don’t care they’ll shoot me in the back of the neck i don’t care down with big brother they always shoot you in the back of the neck i don’t care down with big brother ——”

 

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“Dreams,” by Langston Hughes

“Dreams,” by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

 

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Cover to “2099” Issue 10, art by Pat Broderick, 1993

Pictured below is the “2099” titled trade paperback released by French publisher Semic.  These were collections of various “2099” titles first issued by Marvel — “Doom 2099” is featured here.

Semic sometimes employed interior art as covers.

 

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Ernest Hulin’s “La Douleur,” 1908

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Photo credit: By Ernest Hulin (1882-1918) (Vassil, 6/07/07) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Downtown Roanoke, Virginia, March 2017 (3)

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And the song’s name, ironically enough, is “Lazy Eye.”

I am listening to the Silversun Pickups and taking in the massive non-uniform angles of a distant, dark aquamarine mountain range.

I think that it is little moments like this that define a life, more than any triumph or nadir.