Tag Archives: Eric Robert Nolan

Filtered Salem.

So I’m getting better at editing photos — I’d like to think that these old shots of Salem, VA turned out pretty neat.

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Tweet, Tweet.

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Just some more fun with filters — trees in Salem, VA.

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THIS SPACE FOR RENT.

So my latest get-rich-quick scheme is to rent out billboard space on my truly immense damned forehead.  Seriously. Look at that thing.  I do believe that it is actually getting bigger by the year, but I don’t want to follow that thought through to its logical conclusion, because it would mean that I have a receding hairline.

Anyway, the price is negotiable.  No pro-Trump messages, of course.  (And I’m sure the president will be disappointed, because my forehead is the possibly the only space large enough to fit the word “HYDROXYCHLOROQUINE” in big bold letters.)  I cannot ethically advertise any product that exposes credulous white people to questionable chemicals.  So neither will I promote either Essential Oils nor Pumpkin Spice Latte.  When it comes to my giant forehead, With great power comes great responsibility.

Or maybe I could rent the space out as a movie screen, what with drive-ins bouncing back during the pandemic.  You could throw some Alfred Hitchcock up there.

 

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Winedrunk Sidewalk features “I Am Going To Drive Drunk Tonight”

I’m honored today to see my satirical essay, “I Am Going To Drive Drunk Tonight” appear over at Winedrunk Sidewalk: Shipwrecked in Trumpland.  You can find the piece right here.

As always, thanks to Editor John Grochalski for allowing me to add my voice at Winedrunk Sidewalk!

 

 

To a Friend Who Unfriended Me on Facebook:

To a Friend Who Unfriended Me on Facebook:

Sorry I employed the Socratic method to deflate your position and illustrate for the world how poorly you conceived it. I’m also sorry I posted evidence on your wall that vividly contradicts your argument. Finally, I’m sorry that I made fun of your spelling and grammar.

Get smarter, #$%^&*@#$%^&.

Sincerely,

Eric Robert Nolan

 

 

“prayer upon an empty hilltop,” by Eric Robert Nolan

what stars I find will usher me,
the moon will beam camaraderie,
what winds will wind around my ears
will bend to answer for my fears.

between them, all the endless space
will draw eternity to face
with vast and reassuring mien
the quandaries of the unserene.

here, the shade of me will mark
a figure in the violet dark.
all the hilltop consorts know
identity’s illusion, though.

let starlight penetrate my skin,
the moon expand to let me in,
the winds, again, absorb my voice,
if retrieval be their choice.

— (c) Eric Robert Nolan 2020

 

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By Jeremy Bishop tidesinourveins – https://unsplash.com/photos/wtEO1tLeNQwImageGallery, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=62203699

“Nattering Harpy Short Poem,” by Eric Robert Nolan

I abhor your bland insistence,
yet admire your persistence.
Nag on, you resolute harpy!

 

 

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Illustration of a Harpie by Jean-Baptiste Coriolan, Monstrorum Historia, Ulisse Androvandi, 1642

Throwback Thursday: Wacky WallWalkers!!!

Okay, the Apple Jacks commercial below is a pretty regrettable example of 1980’s cornball marketing buffoonery.  I’ll tell you what, though — I have fond memories of that wicked-cool glow-in-the-dark Wacky Wallwalker that came as the cereal box prize.  (I am linking her to the DJ Nurse Annabella Youtube channel, by the way.)

Had I gotten mine as a prize with Apple Jacks?  I guess.  I know my mom had returned from the store with these for me once or twice.  (They were the non-glowing variety, but they were still fun as hell.)  She only partly regretted her decision when it became apparent that they left vague streak marks on white walls.  When these cheap toys started losing their key adhesiveness, all you had to do was wash them with soap to make them sticky again.  That might have had something to do with it.

That definitive treasure trove of information, Wikipedia, informs me that Wacky Wallwalkers are made from “elastomer.”  And they raked in about 80 million dollars for the Japanese-American inventor who bought the rights to the toy around 1983 from their prior owner in Japan.

I swear I want to play with one of these right now.

 

I’m Down in the Dirt with my Social Isolation!

Seriously, though, the May 2020 issue is a great read — even if page 14 has a poem by that weirdo Eric Nolan guy.

 

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