A 20-year-old female student was the victim of a homicide yesterday at an off campus residence; a male student has been charged with abduction and first degree murder:
Mr. Evans, I presume.
OH MY GOD.
Virginia still has BOB EVANS. There is one right near the barbershop I’m hitting tomorrow. This is a venerable institution that deserves my patronage. I’m not even mad anymore about how the Fredericksburg store worked my fingers to the bone when I was 20. And I rocked that black and burgundy uniform in my long ago trim and strapping days.
Tomorrow I will enjoy biscuits, gravy, sweet coffee, and easy conversation at the breakfast counter with temperate Southern souls.
I will address the counter lady as “Ma’am,” and she will call me “Boy.” Because THE SOUTH.
I’m thinking of renaming this website …
“Smoke a Little Poetry and Get Haiku.”
Whaddya think, Sirs?
Weird world — I was at “The Following’s” latest filming location.
Have any of you guys seen last week’s episode of “The Following?” Maybe not, because I suspect I am the only one watching this cool show. (I’ve read that it is “on the bubble,” and Cracked.com has practically campaigned for its cancellation.)
Anyway, if you’ve seen it, Ryan Hardy and co. track a serial killer to a palatial “home” in “Purchase, NY.”
I was there. I worked there for a night. That “home” is actually a period mansion that is rented out for high-brow catered events. (I’ve forgotten its name.) It’s in Nassau County, not Purchase. When I was working for a hospital in NY as a grant writer in my 20’s, office staff also doubled as volunteers for fundraising events; we held a big one right there. Ryan Hardy goes stalking through the same cobblestone driveway where I took my cigarette breaks. Six degrees of Kevin Bacon indeed.
It was a fun night. There was a special room that was restricted — VIP access only, I guess. Only donors and board members were supposed be in the semi-private parlor. I wandered in quite accidentally, and people just reacted as though I were an (extremely young) donor. So I just pulled a Frank Abagnale, Jr. and ran with it. Someone handed me a brandy and a nice cigar, and I just reclined on an immensely comfortable brown leather chair. (When in Rome.) It was weird seeing other employees and administrators being gently kept behind the velvet ropes. I kept smiling and raising a glass to them as they passed. One vice president was visibly confused at my inclusion there.
So the moral of the story is that if you adopt false pretenses, you get a fancy cigar. Or something. I dunno.
“She revels in a region of sighs.”
And I said — “She is warmer than Dian;
She rolls through an ether of sighs —
She revels in a region of sighs.
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion,
To point us the path to the skies —
To the Lethean peace of the skies —
Come up, in despite of the Lion, [sheet 3:]
To shine on us with her bright eyes —
Come up, through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes.
— Edgar Allan Poe, “Ulalume — A Ballad”
Publication Notice: Aphelion Webzine Features “The Minotaur”
I’m honored today that Aphelion Webzine has published my poem, “The Minotaur,” in its April issue. Because this terrific publication of science fiction and fantasy is free, you can read it right here:
http://www.aphelion-webzine.com/poetry/2015/04/Minotaur.html
Aphelion is a great and creative source of free fiction, poetry and features for those who like to read or write about other worlds. It’s pure fun. Be sure to check it out.
Thank you, Aphelion Webzine!
Happy Easter, all!
I hope that all who celebrate have a festive, joyous holiday!
Enjoy these vintage Easter cards. Our great-grandparents were really, really weird.
Sexy Easter Bunny is particularly troubling. And … what’s with the chicks and the blimp?
“The Skeleton Heads?” Really?
I actually DID form a gang when I was eight or nine years old in rural New York. We called ourselves “The Eagles,” and I was its leader. We claimed a woodlot and its ancient treehouse at the end of the block.
We constantly clashed with another pre-teen gang on the next block. They called themselves “The Skeleton Heads” — apparently being unacquainted with the word “skulls.”
Territory largely swapped hands depending on who happened to be out at the time, and who was inside doing homework.
I am Scarface, in other words.
Publication Notice: “The Minotaur” to appear in Aphelion Magazine.
I got some very nice news today — Iain Muir at Aphelion Magazine told me that the online publication would feature “The Minotaur” in its April issue. I wrote this poem as a tribute to W. H. Auden.
Aphelion is a terrific webzine of science fiction and fantasy, with features, stories and poetry. It’s pure fun, and it’s 100 percent free. Check it out here:
http://www.aphelion-webzine.com/index.html
When my poem appears in April, I’ll post a link.
Thanks, Aphelion!
Beware the Ives of March.
Been hearing that all my life. This Ives guy must really be bad news.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 