He’s “FRIEND TO ALL.”
I dropped that pretty obscure Kevin Smith reference yesterday — apparently nobody either here or on Facebook got it.
I know that not everybody is a Smith fan, but those of us who are can sometimes be a little obsessive.
All posts by Eric Robert Nolan
“Arrived At Crime Scene,” by Reg Davey
This was posted as a joke by Reg Davey, Editor-in-Chief at Dagda Publishing.
I’ve often been told that I have a strange sense of humor, but I find this bizarrely, brilliantly funny somehow, so I’m running it here.
“Arrived At Crime Scene,” by Reg Davey
11.34: Arrived at crime scene
11.34: Examined body. Signs of a struggle
11.34: Found murder weapon in drain
11.34: Realised watch was broken
Photo credit: “Police line …Cedar-Riverside neighborhood of Minneapolis, Minnesota,” Tony Webster, 2008, via Wikimedia Commons.
“Bumblebee,” by Eric Robert Nolan
There has simply been way too much pathos of late among the blogosphere’s poets. In the past few days, our own little online circle has labored to describe houses full of empty picture frames (Dennis Villelmi), nightmare airports (me), sick children (Anna Martin), and even Old Yeller (SAZL).
It’s summer. Let’s lighten the mood. “Bumblebee” was first published by Every Day Poets in September 2013.
It’s a poem about a bee. No, the bee is not a metaphor for childhood guilt or lost loves, and, no, it does not attack the narrator like one of Cthulhu’s minions. (I’m not always such a surly duck.)
Anyone who catches the Kevin Smith reference in this blog post will be made an honorary correspondent. And that’s a coveted distinction. Just ask Len Ornstein about his newfound fame and renown.
**********
“Bumblebee,” by Eric Robert Nolan
Bumbling along a bit close to me
Is busy Mister Bumblebee
He inventories dandelions
With prodding, plush black legs.
I inventory carcinogens
With unfiltered cigarettes,
My legs, in bluejeans, lazily
Crossed in the grass.
He buzzes, I puff.
A mute truce transpires
I won’t stomp if he won’t sting.
Just two fellas
Mindin’ their own business.
© Eric Robert Nolan 2013
Photo credit: “Bee In a Dandelion,” Busangane, own work, via Wikimedia Commons.
A tiny review of Season 6 of “The X Files.”
Season 6 of “The X Files” is probably the best season of the series, in my honest opinion. It deserves a perfect 10.
The mythology episodes (and their conclusion in the “Two Fathers/One Son” story arc) are the best ever – a perfect blend of science fiction, horror, mystery, suspense and spy thrillers. It’s fantastic the way Chris Carter gave us convincing special effects for a 1990’s tv show.
Standalone episodes were also at their best, with gems like “Drive,” “Milagro,” Arcadia” and “Monday.”
The only failure was the truly horrible episode, “How the Ghosts Stole Christmas.” It was truly as stupid as it sounds. It just can’t drag down the otherwise amazing season, though.
“The Heart wants what it wants …”
“The Heart wants what it wants – or else it does not care.”
— Emily Dickinson
“Once upon a time and a very good time it was …”
“Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo. . . . His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face. He was a baby tuckoo. The moocow came down the road where Betty Byrne lived: she sold lemon platt.
“O, the wild rose blossoms On the little green place.
“He sang that song. That was his song.
“O, the green wothe botheth.
“When you wet the bed first it is warm then it gets cold. His mother put on the oil-sheet. That had the queer smell.”
— opening lines of “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,” by James Joyce
For an excellent explanation of Joyce’s deliberate use of childlike language, see the Sparknotes page here:
http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/portraitartist/quotes.html
I can still remember Longwood High School’s Mr. Anderson, the greatest English teacher ever to enter a classroom, reading this aloud for us.
The 5-Day Poetry Challenge — A Loophole!
I’m so sorry that I haven’t risen to the 5-Day Poetry Challenge with the same ardor and wonderful work as my fellow scribes. I’ve been a little swamped recently with life stuff …
Today I present to you … a possible loophole? I actually did want to be a defense attorney once, during a phase in college … (And then I wanted to be an FBI agent, and then I wanted to be a lobbyist, and then I wanted to be Spiderman.)
So here’s my flair for manipulation, front and center: nominees are challenged to post five poems over the course of five days.
Nowhere, however, do the rules specify that these must be five CONSECUTIVE days.
I’m hoping that you folks will understand if I provide my fifth and final entry in the coming days. I promise I will write an original piece and post it right here.
Are we still cool???
A tiny review of “The X Files,” Season 5.
“The X Files” was in its heyday during Season 5 – this deserves a perfect 10. There were a slew of fantastic mythology episodes, and the standalones included all-time classics such as “The Pine Bluff Variant,” “Folie a Deux” and “Bad Blood.”
There was only one misfire – the draggy and unsatisfying “Chinga.” And even that was at least watchable, thanks to onscreen chemistry between David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson.
Great stuff.
“He was a scrawny white kid with junkie eyes …”
“He was a scrawny white kid with junkie eyes and no place for his hands, but he had the look.”
— “Night Ride,” by Charles Beaumont, Playboy Magazine, March 1957.
My buddy Pete Harrison just sent me the above. When I asked him if the quote was a reference to me, he stayed assiduously quiet. Another commenter opined, “At least you’ve got the look. That’s something.”
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 