I am cheating
on the 5-Day Poetry Challenge
merely by adding
line breaks to a sentence.
(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2015
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(I suggest that this piece works on a number of levels, most notably the levels of “suck” and “I am really busy today.”)
All posts by Eric Robert Nolan
“You’re a Broken Phonograph,” by Eric Robert Nolan
Let’s try this again … after wrestling with formatting issues, I have somewhat better presented my first entry into the 5-Day Poetry Challenge:
“You’re a Broken Phonograph,” by Eric Robert Nolan
You’re baggage.
You’re a scratched penny on a gravel street.
Your memory is a cheap souvenir from an ill-advised journey that is wished forgotten. You were purchased drunk on a mercilessly hot noon at a roadside stand. The vendor resembled Browning’s “hoary cripple” — all eager eyes and veiled laughter. His smile is frequented by gold teeth — intermittent shining sentries on a rampart grin. His front pockets are stuffed with bills, like twin plump denim ticks; their fangs are dollars’ corners. Your overpriced bauble shines at midday, but every additional dusk renders it lower into dulling shades of deep sepia. The paint flakes off — it falls to the windowsill now like the dead wings of moths. The wise advise its removal; the paint is toxic.
Your image is the aged face of a staid statesman on a stamp, an unremembered lawmaker.
You’re a broken phonograph.
You’re a photo of a burned out building.
Your presence is a preening blackbird at the lawn.
You’re quick to open your legs, but slow to close your mouth.
You’re easy sex, but difficult company.
You’re a cheap date, but a costly acquaintance.
No matter where and when another man will lie beside you, you’re alone.
Your future is all awkward mornings, sunsets that are calls to arms, disenchanted midnights, men misunderstood,
“friends of friends,” “friends” instead of lovers, men recommended, men paid for,
their loins emptied first, their hearts emptied after, both by your mouth,
men slipping out, at sunrise, stealthily before you wake, like cats smelling better breakfast elsewhere.
(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2015
Photo credit: “Musee Baud,” 2015, by Rama, via Wikimedia Commons
The 5 Day Poetry Challenge.
I nominate certain friends whose verses so often rock the house:
1) Stanley Anne Zane Latham,
2) Dennis Villelmi,
3) Philippe Atherton-Blenkiron,
4) Sean Macro, and
5) Anna Marie Martin.
Here is how it was explained to me … if you accept your nomination, then you are challenged to write and post a new poem each day, over the course of five days. Your piece should appear on Facebook, and your blog, if you have one. You also must nominate at least one other person. 🙂
If you’re the rare individual who loved “World War Z,” and want to watch it again …
… then watch the unrated cut. The return of the excised footage actually makes the battle scenes less disconnected and easier to follow.
It also seems like an example of how arbitrary and silly are the sensibilities of the censors of the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA). CGI-rendered blood flows are apparently too much for certain audiences, yet those same audiences paid to see a film about a global zombie holocaust. Entire cities fall, but certain individual bites and head-blows are too much for the more delicate filmgoers?
The late Roger Ebert had a few interesting things to say about the MPAA, how it works, and its influence on theater owners and audiences — if I ever run across those particular columns again, I’ll link here to them. What some people don’t realize is that the MPAA is not a government agency like the Federal Communications Commission — it’s a voluntary trade association composed of the major studios. And the whole thing seems pretty weird to me.
I still maintain that this movie is terrific. The plane scene alone … yeesh. And there actually IS an in-universe justification for the zombie locked in the airplane bathroom. Read Max Brooks’ incredible novel for an explanation of why certain infectees take longer to turn into monsters.
OH MY GOSH!! GREAT NEWS!!
OH MY GOSH!! GREAT NEWS!! I’ve tried Windows 10!! And it SUCKS!!
Okay … maybe that’s more like annoying news or sad news. Whatever. You heard it here FIRST!!!
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[EDIT: Wiser minds have informed me that I cannot actually be running Windows 10, because it hasn’t been released yet. Yes, I am so confused by my new computer that I cannot determine its platform.]
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[UPDATE: I click “New Tab” and all I get is a white screen with the words “New Tab” spelled across it!! It’s like some minimalist art project designed to f@$% with me!! It’s 3:15 AM, for God’s sake!!]
A quick review of “Late Phases” (2014)
The independent werewolf movie “Late Phases” has been getting a lot of positive buzz among horror fans — and it deserves it. This is a smartly written, well performed fright flick to which I’d give an 8 out of 10.
Nick Damici hands in an understated but perfect performance as a blind Vietnam War veteran antihero. Don’t worry — his blindness is not a gimmick, it’s more of an interesting plot element. (And, by the way, here’s a little trivia — Damici is also the screenwriter for 2010’s outstanding “Stake Land.”)
Tom Noonan is fantastic, as always. Has he ever given a poor performance? I sooooooo loved him trading barbed quips with Fox Mulder as an evil vacuum cleaner salesman — that was one of the best episodes of “The X Files” ever. And am I a weird guy if I think his voice sounds hypnotic?
Regrettably, this film suffers just a little from something its makers probably couldn’t help — a limited special effects budget. We are definitely in the habitat here of man-in-a-suit werewolves, and it does show. Most of my friends who are serious horror buffs will not mind this, but I noticed, and it did “take me out of the movie” just a little. So many people lament the overuse of CGI in today’s movies. I think that when it’s absent entirely, you can start to miss it.
This is still a really good movie, though. It’s on Netflix. Give it a look.
O, but what worm of guilt or what malignant doubt am I the victim of?
“Dear, though the night is gone,” by W.H. Auden
Dear, though the night is gone,
Its dream still haunts today,
That brought us to a room
Cavernous, lofty as
A railway terminus,
And crowded in that gloom
Were beds, and we in one
In a far corner lay.
Our whisper woke no clocks,
We kissed and I was glad
At everything you did,
Indifferent to those
Who sat with hostile eyes
In pairs on every bed,
Arms round each other’s neck,
Inert and vaguely sad.
O but what worm of guilt
Or what malignant doubt
Am I the victim of,
That you then, unabashed,
Did what I never wished,
Confessed another love;
And I, submissive, felt
Unwanted and went out?
W.H. Auden
“Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy.”
Suspect in Charleston Church Shooting Apprehended
Hearing held for suspect in murder of Mary Washington College student Grace Mann
“Hearing reveals new details in Grace Mann murder case,” Keith Epps, Free Lance Star, 6/16/15.
This article describes the crime scene in detail, as well as allegations about the events leading up to the homicide. Please note that the story is disturbing before reading it.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 