Gonna start a Pink Floyd cover band with a couple of other psych majors, gonna call it “Jung Lust.”
My buddy Gary Monte saw me posting this on Facebook and chimed in with this: “I started one called ‘Run Like Hell’ and we were so bad, that’s exactly what the audience did!”
You can order them right here — it takes less than a minute.
These are the rapid antigen tests, which are not as reliable as the polymerase chain reaction (PCR) tests (the kind that are analyzed in a labarotory). But, hey, you can’t beat the price.
Here is a Washington Post article with more information — including when exactly to take the tests and where else to get them.
Things are looking up a bit in stormswept Roanoke. First, a break in the rainy weather allowed a sojurn today to Benny Marconi’s for pizza. Second, the mailman brought me my copy of Lothlorien Poetry Journal Volume 33: Vortex Voyagers.
It is a wonderful 237-page tome of outstanding work, and it is just the after-midnight reading that I need right now. (Insomnia strikes again.)
If you want to enjoy it too, you can order your copy right here. (And if you do happen to purchase a copy, I hope you peruse the three poems of mine there — “school shooter,” “This Windy Morning” and “The Rough Violet Stone.” These were published online by Lothlorien in February.)
It’s like the Westerosi sigil for House Unmarried. (A delicious sigil.)
But, damn, I miss the baked mac-and-cheese served at Mary Washington College. I know I’m not the only one.
I’m honored today to see Spillwords Press publish my poem, “Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks.” You can find it right here.
Thanks, as always, to Chief Editor Dagmara K. for allowing me to see my work appear in such a wonderful online literary magazine!
I am a man who is loathe to tamper with a classic. And every slice of pizza from Benny Marconi’s in Roanoke, Virginia is a damned artwork.
Still … they did not offer octopus as a topping. (I searched their website pretty thoroughly.) And then I realized that I had NEVER seen the most sublime of foods offered as a pizza topping.
Innovation built this country, and I have a flair for the culinary. So I went home and concocted the brilliance you see below.
Update — Damn. I just realized I wrote this whole post ignoring the potential for an “octupie” pun.
I am delighted today to see a photo of mine published in Issue 35 of Anti-Heroin Chic. 🙂
You can find it right here at this link. (Or, you can simply link through my name in the issue’s table of contents.)
Anti-Heroin Chic has consistently been the home of some of the most raw and compelling creative work that I’ve found online. I’m honored to see one of my photos featured there, and I’m grateful to Editor Roy Duffield for selecting it.
Flashback to the early 1990’s. I worked the cafeteria at Mary Washington College in Fredericksburg, Virginia. (It was a work-study program.) Southern kids would line up at the counter for me to serve them Worcestershire sauce, because they laughed at the way I pronounced it.
It’s “wista-SHEER sawce.” Years of seeing it passed around my New York Irish dinner table could not have misinformed me. It was the Southerners and their adorable “WAR-is-to-Shire” pronunciation that deserved laughter.
I’m glad we had this talk.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 