Tag Archives: Eric Robert Nolan

“All Our Faults Are Fallen Leaves,” by Eric Robert Nolan

You guys know I struggle with writing “happy poems.”  When I sat down to write this, I intended it as a kind of “Happy Autumn” poem to all my friends.

I wound up using the fires of Hell as its central motif.  Oh well.  It actually does have a positive message.  Really!  Give it a glance!  So, Happy Autumn, guys!!  And … y’know … go to hell?

“All Our Faults Are Fallen Leaves”

Again an annual angled auburn hand
announces advancing Autumn —
fingers aflame, the first Fallen leaf,
As slow in its descent, and as red,
as flailing Lucifer.

Hell in our sylvan vision
begins with a single spark.
The sting of the prior winter
subsided in July,
eroded at August.
Now, as at every September,
let new and cooler winds
fan a temperate flame.

May this nascent season only
bring brick-tinted perdition
and carmine Abaddon.
Where flames should burn, may there be
only rose tones on wide wine canvasses,
tormentless florid scarlets,
griefs eased in garnet trees.

What I hold in my heart to be true
is Edict at every Autumn:
Magentas may not make
forgetful a distracted God,
unless we ourselves forget
or burn to overlook.

Auden told us “One Evening”
to “Stand, stand at the window,”
and that we would love our neighbor,
but he didn’t counsel at all
about how we should smolder there.

Outside my window, and yours,
if the Conflagration itself
acquits us all by claiming only
the trees upon the hill,
the Commonwealth a hearth,
Virginia an Inferno,

Then you and I
should burn in our hearts to absolve
ourselves and one another,
standing before the glass,
our curtains catching,
our beds combusting,
our bureaus each a pyre.
Take my hand, my friend, and smile,
there on the scorching floor,
beneath the searing ceiling and
beside the blackening mirror
that troubles us no longer,
for, about it, Auden was wrong.
God’s wrathful eye
will find you and I
incandescent.  The damned
are yet consigned to kindness.
All our faults are Fallen leaves.
Forgive where God will not.

Out of our purgatory
of injury’s daily indifference,
let our Lake of Fire
be but blush squadrons of oaks,
cerise seas of cedar, fed
running ruby by sycamore rivers,
their shores reassured
by calm copper sequoias,
all their banks ablaze
in yellowing eucalyptus.

Let the demons we hold
harden into bark
holding up Inferno.
All their hands are branches now;
all their palms are burning.

There, then, softly burning, you and I,
may our Autumn find
judgmentless russets,
vermilion for our sins,
dahlia forgiveness,
a red for every error,
every man a love,
every love infernal,
and friends where devils would reign.

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2015

— Author’s note: the poem to which I’ve responded above, with its images of standing at the window and the mirror, is W. H. Auden’s “As I Walked Out One Evening.”

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Photo credit:  “Orange in Middletown,” by AgnosticPreachersKid (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

AND CHEESEBURGERS on sandwich bread.

But I had New York Irish parents who worked their asses off to make me dinner every night, give me lots of other stuff (including a big yard with a fort and two imbecile dogs), and then pay for most of my college education.  Not too shabby for a couple of kids from Queens.  I had it a hell of a lot better than a lot of kids I see on the news today.

The only “struggle” we endured was when one particularly dark soul gave my mom “The Casserole Cookbook” one Christmas, and our fare, for a while, took a turn to the Lovecraftian.  But that didn’t last.

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“But should you fail to keep your kingdom …”

But should you fail to keep your kingdom
And, like your father before you, come
Where thought accuses and feeling mocks,
Believe your pain; praise the scorching rocks
For their desiccation of your lust,
Thank the bitter treatment of the tide
For its dissolution of your pride,
That the whirlwind may arrange your will
And the deluge release it to find
The spring in the desert, the fruitful
Island in the sea, where flesh and mind
Are delivered from mistrust.

—  from “Alonso to Ferdinand,” in W. H. Auden’s “The Sea and the Mirror”

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Damn fine product.

I does loves me some Jansport.

Amazon.com has OUTSTANDING customer service.   No, believe it or not, I am actually not being sarcastic here … Amazon.com really does have outstanding customer service.  If you ever have a problem, call them and ask for the very helpful “Mike A.,” and then leave positive feedback on the automated service, because his my homeboy.

One word of caution … if you ever buy a backpack online, be sure to READ its measurements, then make sure your desired cargo will fit.  The vendors employ extremely small-boned men to model for these online listings, so every backpack looks huge.

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Tonight we sleep peacefully thanks to the ardor of the brave.

If you are reading this now, then you are likely to head to bed soon for the night, safely.

If you are like many today, then you might have said a prayer, or a few words of thanks, for the soldiers, the police, the firemen, and the emergency professionals who have made such safety possible.

You and I will retire to sleep tonight without event.  We will awaken in a free state tomorrow.  These are rarer things than we often realize, in a frequently ugly world, where despots threaten and madmen make red pageantry in our skylines and in our saddest inner moments.  But tonight we sleep peacefully thanks to the ardor of the brave.

Indeed, we WILL never forget.

To all of the especially good men and women whose job it is to keep us safe, often at the highest risk to themselves:

Good luck, Godspeed, and thank you for your service.

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Throwback Thursday: the First Edition Dungeons & Dragons “Monster Manual.”

I was too young to play Dungeons & Dragons when it was in its heyday; by the time I reached high school, its ardent niche popularity had faded.  (I’ve read that tabletop role-playing games owed their decline in the 1980’s to the arrival of videogames.)

I do remember poring over my older brother’s “Monster Manual” without his knowledge, though.  (We shared a room; I wasn’t supposed to be touching his stuff.)

Dragons doubtlessly captured the imaginations of most kids who perused that book.  Older boys would probably have been fascinated by the succubus.  At the age of 9 or 10, I myself was most partial to “green slime,” the teleporting “blink dogs” and the basilisk.

I smiled when the below image of the “Monster Manual” cover began making the rounds among a group of my Facebook friends.  Believe it or not, there are still a few adults who get together to play D&D.

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Literally a sweet deal!

I bought TWO GIANT boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch at Walmart yesterday for just $5!!  Nailed it!!  I swing deals like Donald Trump!!

And hey!! I would probably make a better fucking president!!!

So … y’k’now.  I hereby announce my candidacy for the Office of the President of the United States.

[Thanks to Campaign Manager Pete Harrison for the slogan and poster below.  Share these with your friends and neighbors!]

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A comic book tip conundrum: “Daredevil: Fall From Grace” (Chichester, McDaniel, Colazzo, 1993)

I was all set to plug my favorite Daredevil storyline following the success of Marvel’s show on Netflix; now I hesitate.  I absolutely loved 1993’s “Daredevil: Fall From Grace,” written by D. G. Chichester and illustrated by Scott McDaniel and Hector Collazo.  But a simple google search reveals that this is yet another thing that I loved and everyone else apparently hates.  So we can file it right alongside certain 90’s artifacts like “Alien 3” (1992), “Knightfall” (1993), and “Wyatt Earp” (1994).

Man, the reaction to this was poor, despite its high sales upon release.  I actually do understand the criticisms.  It’s a complicated story, into which various unrelated characters from the Marvel universe are shoehorned.  (A “virus” bioengineered by the Defense Department can “remake what it infects” into anything at all, granting the infected with whatever superpowers they wish.  Various Marvel villains and anti-heroes arrive in New York to compete for its discovery, after its loss decades ago in the subway system is made known.)

People hated “Fall From Grace,” describing it as convoluted and difficult to follow.  They said Chichester’s writing was incomprehensible and too wordy.  The experimental new art style by Scott McDaniel was described as “murky” and equally hard to follow.  Today, people wonder why the widely panned story was ever even collected into trade paperback.  (It’s pricey, by the way.)

Maybe I’m just nuts, but … this is one of my favorite comic book storylines of all time.  I absolutely would not recommend it to a reader new to Daredevil, as I recommended Frank Miller and John Romita Jr.’s “Daredevil: The Man Without Fear” on Monday.  In fact, it might only really be enjoyed by someone with at least a bit of familiarity with the Marvel universe.

Yes, Chichester’s writing was lengthy and verbose.  But I loved his sometimes poetic and always mood-setting exposition, and his dialogue occasionally really shined.  I forgave the story for inserting characters with whom I was unfamiliar.  “Hellspawn” (and his Jamaican accent?) was entirely new to me, but damn if that monster didn’t make a unique and frightening enemy for Daredevil.  (He’s the demonic looking, tiger-like “doppleganger” you see pictured in the first cover below.)

And look at that art.  Certainly, it wasn’t to everybody’s taste.  It was abstract, minimalist, dark, and it often lacked detail. It was almost … impressionistic?  But I loved it.  The radically altered style was perfectly suited to this new, much darker tone and story.  (There was a hell of a lot of pathos in this storyline, including torture and assassination at the hands of the government.)  It was full of shadow and dark color, served the story’s mood perfectly, and it was nothing like I’d seen in a comic book before.

I couldn’t honestly recommend buying this in trade paperback, given the fact the entire world except me seemed unhappy with it.  But, hey …  if you can borrow it from a friend or the library, then check it out.  Maybe you’ll find some of the magic in it that I did.

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“Sinister 2” is goddam frightening!

For the life of me, I cannot understand how “Sinister 2” (2015) is getting such bad reviews.  It’s a well made, terrifying horror movie that actually exceeds the 2012 original, which itself was superb.  I’d cheerfully give it a 9 out of 10.

These films have a hell of a story setup.  I won’t describe it in detail here, to avoid spoilers for either movie.  Suffice to say, it is disturbing, even by horror movie standards.  If your standard fare is disposable slasher flicks, bump-in-the-night ghost stories, larger-than-life survival fantasies like zombie movies — beware!  This film take it up a notch.  (As Nigel Tufnel once expounded, “This one goes to 11.”)

The movie depicts a demon who is responsible for the ostentatious, ritualistic murders of entire families.  If that isn’t bad enough, his exact modus operandi is … gut wrenching.  I can’t imagine what kind of pathological muse spoke to screenwriters Scott Derrickson and C. Robert Cargill in coming up with this s@#$.  Yeesh!!!

I actually thought this was much scarier than the first “Sinister.”  (A caveat — I’m pretty sure I’m alone here; it seems like nearly everyone else panned this movie.)

First, the demon’s sickening systematic methods here are examined in detail.  (The first movie worked as a mystery, in which these methods are gradually discovered by an investigative journalist.)  We examine in greater depth the 8MM film strips that serve as a story device.  (I don’t think I am revealing too much here, as they are shown in every ad for the movie.)

Second, we have a protagonist here that we can actually care about.  It is none other than “Deputy So-And-So” (nicely played by James Ransone), the supporting character from the first film, who turns out to be a surprisingly likable anti-hero.  He’s got character and charm that Ethan Hawke’s arrogant true-crime writer utterly lacked in the first movie.  (It was the screenwriters’ fault, not the immensely talented Hawke’s, by the way.)  We’ve got a nice guy that we can care about and root for.  The imperiled family here is also more likable; the writer’s family in “Sinister” was portrayed in little depth.

Seriously, this is a highly disturbing horror movie, if that’s what you’re in the mood for.  The “Christmas morning” scene really got under my skin.  My fellow horror fans might skewer me for saying this, but it scared me as much as anything in “The Shining” (1980).  It … just … YEESH, man!!

One quick final note — at the very end of the movie, I came up with my own twist ending; I’m surprised they didn’t go with it.  It contains a spoiler, so I explain it after the jump beneath the poster below.

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Continue reading “Sinister 2” is goddam frightening!

It SUCKS when I awaken past midnight full of steel resolve and grim determination …

It SUCKS when I awaken past midnight full of steel resolve and grim determination because Gotham needs me, and then I remember that I am not Batman.

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