Tag Archives: Eric Robert Nolan

What if God was one of us?

Today’s artwork is definitely the weirdest birthday greeting I received this week … it comes to me from my good friend Jorgen over in Denmark.  I’ve never before received a birthday message depicting me as a deity.

It’s weirdly hilarious, but it is also vaguely unnerving.  I don’t know why, but I never thought I’d be so terrifying rendered as a celestial Eric.

Thanks again, Jorgen!

By the way, I can easily think of several people in New York who would attest that this is indeed the view I hold of myself.

 

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This is just a quick word of thanks …

… for all of the kind messages, gags and goodies sent my way for my 41st birthday.  You guys are the best.  You made me laugh like hell, and you made the day far more enjoyable.

Edit: 46th.  It was my 46th birthday.

 

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The Bees Are Dead!

If you prefer darker poetry, art and photography, then please stay current with The Bees Are Dead, the transatlantic indie lit magazine devoted to dystopian visions.

The most recent publication there is an absolutely stunning poem by Paul Brookes.

There is also some wonderful work by poets Matthew Borczon and David Spicer, the list of B.A.D.’s nominations of Sundress Publications’ “Best of the Net” 2018, and some truly awe-inducing photography of “dereliction and decay” by urban explorer Carl Bennett.

Do stop in.

 

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Photo credit: By Falcon® Photography from France (Old Bathroom) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

I’m coining a new term — “spellflake.”

It’s someone who lashes out at me whenever I correct their spelling, grammar, punctuation or usage during a political discussion.

You heard it here first, people.

I’m pretty sure I should be a highly paid analyst at a think tank somewhere. You guys get on that.

 

 

 

Another year of goating older.

So I got a couple of early birthday presents in the mail from you writery types …

Thank you!!

I totally dig my “Grendel” comics (Vivat Grendel!), and my wicked cool crystal skulls (I’m pretty sure they make me Indiana Nolan).  I must say that I’m still a bit befuddled, however, by the “Horny Goat Weed.”

Exactly how is Horny Goat Weed employed?  Is it meant to repel horny goats?  (I can’t imagine their arrival is welcomed by most of us.)  Or to attract horny goats?  (If you want to breed them on your farm, then it would be helpful.)  Is it meant to placate horny goats by making them more chill?  Is this the kind of weed that Jeff Session wouldn’t approve of?

I’ll update you all as information develops.

 

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This is itiful.

You know what obstructs any meaningful commentary on social issues that I see in the news?

Having the damned “P” key stuck on my keyboard.

I’ve told you guys before how it changes “hope” to “hoe.”

Tonight we discovered that it converts the “gay pride” to “gay ride.”

My intended meaning is altered entirely, in other words.

Somebody tell me how to fix my keyboard — lease.

 

 

 

“Graybeard the Pirate”

I have to say I think it’s weird
there’s salt and pepper in my beard.

And so today I’d like to scold
my melanin for getting old.

 

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Eric Robert Nolan nominated for the Sundress Publications 2018 Best of the Net Anthology

I am honored today to share some wonderful news — my colleagues over at The Bees Are Dead have graciously nominated a short story of mine for the Sundress Publications 2018 Best of the Net Anthology.

The title of the story is “At the End of the World, My Daughter Wept Metal,” and it was published last August over at the B.A.D. website.  (You can find it right here.)  It is an apocalyptic sci-fi horror tale in which nanotechnology is used for an astonishing medical breakthrough  — but then goes horribly, catastrophically wrong.

I would like to thank B.A.D. Editors Philippe Atherton-Blenkiron and Dennis Villelmi for the nomination and their invaluable support for my work.  I am truly grateful.

 

 

 

Happy Birthday, Jaine!!!

Happy Birthday, Jaine!!!
This cake misspells your name.
The Brits include an “i,”
although I know not why.

I miss you very much —
your charm and fun and such …
Have fun across the sea
With your boys and with Denis!!

 

jane

You know the rules. And so do I.

Today’s agenda:

1) Give you up, let you down, run around and desert you.

2) Make you cry, say goodbye, tell a lie and hurt you.

C’mon … you know that I’m KIDDING.

I’m NEVER gonna do those things!!