… when a new character pops into your head and you keep seeing her and imagining her thoughts.
And she’s just so sad.
Cheer up, Marybeth. None of what is happening is your fault. He’s the one who is culpable. It’s a failure of leadership, but not your own.
“Morning.”
Soft kiss, like dream trains coupling at the station.
Soft kiss again, like pleasure should be.
“Hey,” she says, “How do you, um …”
“Excuse me?” kiss on neck, ear,
there, where the current hits the soul.
— from “Sharp Teeth,” by Toby Barlow
… I would call a massive press conference at the front steps of my home, I would address the assembled multitude solemnly, and I would stare long and hard into the distance.
Then I would say,”I CAN SEE SARAH PALIN FROM MY HOUSE.” And then just bust out laughing.
Because that would be f***ing hilarious.
“Thus fortified I might take my rest in peace. But dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exits and their entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths.”
― Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla
1) Find “24” actress Mia Kirshner’s home address.
2) Show up outside her home one evening holding a boombox overhead, like that kid in that John Hughes movie. (I don’t watch them.)
3) Play Barry Manilow’s “Mandy” for her, thus winning her affections.
(I love this actress and character so much. Mandy is the Boba Fett of the “24” universe. The character of Ari Kirshner in my novel is named after the actress. I so want her to reappear in Season 9.)
I just corrected an Internet commenter on the distinction between the slang “ho” and the word “hoe.” Because “a stupid hoe” is a unintelligent gardening tool.
Does this make me a gangsta, a pedant, or both?
What I learned today — when squirrels gather en masse, they no longer fear me.
Most adorable apparent animal threat anywhere?
THROW THE CRUST DOWN AND RUN.
Lady Weeping at the Crossroads
by W. H. Auden
Lady, weeping at the crossroads,
Would you meet your love
In the twilight with his greyhounds,
And the hawk on his glove?
Bribe the birds then on the branches,
Bribe them to be dumb,
Stare the hot sun out of heaven
That the night may come.
Starless are the nights of travel,
Bleak the winter wind;
Run with terror all before you
And regret behind.
Run until you hear the ocean’s
Everlasting cry;
Deep though it may be and bitter
You must drink it dry,
Wear out patience in the lowest
Dungeons of the sea,
Searching through the stranded shipwrecks
For the golden key,
Push on to the world’s end, pay the
Dread guard with a kiss,
Cross the rotten bridge that totters
Over the abyss.
There stands the deserted castle
Ready to explore;
Enter, climb the marble staircase,
Open the locked door.
Cross the silent ballroom,
Doubt and danger past;
Blow the cobwebs from the mirror
See yourself at last.
Put your hand behind the wainscot,
You have done your part;
Find the penknife there and plunge it
Into your false heart.
April 1940
Thanks, Poeticous.com.
“IT WAS THE BEST OF GRIMES, IT WAS THE WORST OF GRIMES.”
Illumen Magazine has once again featured my poetry; a section of my “Three Dreamers” series can be found in the the Spring 2014 Issue.
I would like to thank Editor Terrie Leigh Relf for allowing me once again to contribute to this beautiful biannual print magazine. It is a pleasure to be on board.
For information about Illumen, and Alban Lake Publishing’s other wonderful fantasy and science fiction titles, please see Alban Lake’s website here: http://albanlake.com/# .
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Eric Robert Nolan, Author 