Good News For 2010 – Eric Is Completing His First Novel!

Yummy.

He is our naked one. Eric America has, after being asked by some agencies and one publisher, concentrated creative efforts on a work of fiction. We’ll announce the title and do an excerpt when he has chosen a publisher and agent to give the ok. Now some scores from around the world:

2

12 – 5

Love – 15

7

0

It is a wonderful day when you are able to dance within the hours by letting your mind wander into all of the places it shouldn’t when working or student(ing?) I have been unfortunate for a long time, and I thank all those who have written and helped boost our rankings on Blog Catalog while identifying with some of the emotions laid out in “Hide Our Smiles”. As many know, I am a a musician and a poet. Fiction-writing seemed like a marathon run where I would have to keep a consistent thread during the whole process. I didn’t see it being as fun as writing songs or poetry. I was wrong. I am having a great time slowly building characters and working on moving them through a gauntlet of sins. Stick around for the updates. We will have a party in NYC and maybe other cities to launch the book!

-NakedE

When I Said I’d Die For You (I Didn’t Mean You Could Kill Me) – Cody Peters Poem

When I Said I Would Die For You (I Didn’t Mean You Could Kill Me)
For My Squirrel (to her utter disgust)

The world leans on an empty chair
I look for her everywhere, in faces and pastimes
I settle for less and curse her for the sting
Pain now issues forth from the wound regret
I am only now, years apart, ready to write, to think these word of truth:
Her soul is my heart and I have been dead since our final embrace
These hands that wipe tears once held her every night
These tired eyes once filled with her radiant light and her effortless beauty
I feel disconnected from these senses, like an interloper or
Startled tourist of Bethlehem saying,
“Wow, that happened here?
But this looks like nothing but a barren desert…”

Command of folly has been my forte
remixing nothing and tinctures of anesthetic blockade
I never got back on my feet after I crushed her with my self-destructive shadow
He assumed a passenger and blinded me with comfort to earn my attention
Undivided after cutting loose the woman who owns my heart
Now I am ruled by this rusted regime
I am trying to move, not to love. To live, not to exalt
Now I endure when with her I would enjoy
Now I get by when with her I would conquer

A lesson didn’t surface, ‘spite the old pomes, adages, and sages
No greater good was to come from my imprudent adherence to the shadows
I crush myself to think I once considered her anything but my destiny
A day in that life would be heaven to me now
Knowing she would smile at the thought of us and be there when I slept
I go crazy in the aftermath, this also-ran slice of a life that looks stellar from the out
I smile in grotesque amusement at the lengths I’ve gone to push away her beautiful face
Her beautiful emergence in my life as the towers fell was as sure a thing as I could tell
I am soaked with this jealousy for myself because I had her and she loved me
She really did and now I am grown up to see that I was so ungrown back then
So childlike to think that it was my heart that was broken
I know better now that what was broken was not my heart, but my soul

She wants to keep away and now lives in another land
Ice fills my chest as I realize that I actually agree and understand
Stay away. I hurt you too many times.
Though I know I would move heaven to have her here on Earth
Though I know I would be a perfect lover, the knowing is the spire
The tack of evidence, my tries to fool reason are a long-winded waste
A time to kill and no one better than myself for my pain, so hard to explain
Will keep me bleeding until the rusted shadow takes me home.

But I would miss her in Heaven
I would miss her in Hell, asleep, in chains or a throne
I would miss this woman in paradise and my forever will always know
That all I do and Those I love are merely ghosts as the eyes of my passion
Are always scanning the skies for

She, Always With My Heart.
Only she can rid my life of this monster
but she has much better things to do…

I Accidentally Wrote This for You, Elizabeth Wurtzel – Poem by Cody Peters

I Accidentally Wrote This for You, Elizabeth Wurtzel

 by Cody Peters

Let me tell you about right now.

 

I am probably going to die, as my blood is full of Ritalin, Vicodin, Testosterone

Should I do a beer? If you say “yes” then that means you want me to die!

People should think a little bit about certain things.

The way I see it right now, they feel when should think

and think when they should feel.

 

Right now is a 2:34 AM nightmare and sleep is not even close to maybe

So the iron horse has tempted death the day after Michael Jackson died.

I can’t be without drugs and the shift from the real.

They can’t be with me without drugs and the shift from the real,

I am a monster and I have so much pain.

I just couldn’t think of trying to conquer any more.

Am I wrong to realize when I am beaten?

I am so sick, the heart in my chest is no longer my own.

Why it keeps beating is a God secret I hope he never learns.

Or payback will be a baddie.  God is a little flighty, but stern.

 

Right now I am afraid to sleep.  I fear the loneliness of the pillow.

This life has been so to burn the life away.  My dreams are dead and I am alive.

My heroes had it the other way around.  I am an extraordinary spirit in a mundane life.

Stuck without the will to weather any pain.  So no suicide!

My mind is not going to stop.  I am not in control.

I only know how to dodge, not endure (any more)

I am so battered from my life that the sadness is too overwhelming.

I wish I fell in love.  I did, but each time it was ripped as a piece of my heart.

Perhaps it tempered it so it can endure my need for anything to shift my real.

I know I will not heal.  I love and believe, but I just got a bad hand.

I play this game with the best cards in my hand that do not connect to make me a winner.

I look great losing though, I am Elizabeth Wurtzel without the Ivy.

I am Layne Staley without the magic.

I am Michael Jackson when it comes to being slain by the world you wish would love you.

Mostly, after reading all of the books on Amazon about drug addiction and depression

I realized that no one really understands me.  Awwww.  These days, nobody cares.

I wait for an email, a call, a visit, a drug, a change in my brain that will stop the heavy

That keeps me driven to escape so far and endanger my self.

 

For all who don’t have their own times, you have it all wrong.

Drugs don’t make a junkhead high, they are like this:

Our Elite Race of stoners, junkies, and freaks live in a constant rainstorm

We look at the boring normal people and see that they all have umbrellas

We were never given one, so we are getting cold, shivering, and soaked.

Drugs are our umbrella.  So we can be more like you.

Sure it’s like the five-dollar one you buy on the street, but most of the rain is blocked.

That is, until the umbrella starts to fade like Cinderella.

Then the cold comes again and we get sick.

We go seeking another umbrella, ironically for our own health.

Then this hunt consumes.  We are a closed cycle of umbrella patrons.

Well, since umbrellas equal drugs in this ditty, we are the famed “drug-seekers”

It’s really just a rain thing, don’t sweat it.

But I can suffer deep pain from somewhere. A broken life perhaps?

Or I can finally give up at 30 and try to avoid the hurt.

 

Right now I’m coated in chemicals and in love with the idea of dating Elizabeth Wurtzel

She would love me.  She’ll never see me because of her status.  Bad for us.

We would take it by the core and she’d foil my baddies so we could start better trouble.

Elizabeth, you were me and I will be you.  If this is true then I would call a big fan like me

Don’t you want to at least write to me and tell me some good books to read?

Or NYC hangouts?  Share stories of your societe, miss cocktail party.

I’ll give you back some years and you boost me a few.  We’re of a mind that is mystery.

I am amazed by my stanza to EW.  I’ll send her this.  If she doesn’t respond

Then I know she’s not nearly like me at all. 

Aren’t you at least curious?

 

Right now I am looking for what I need.

I always do and am fooled or am lost.

How low do you go before impact?

I must be so damn close

Here comes a crash.

 

Do you think it will hurt? 

Slipping into eternity with a Ritalin pupil dilated so

I don’t miss a thing.

Cody Peters Breaks Through With “Hide Our Smiles”

  

Hide Our Smiles
Hide Our Smiles

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A great writer-in-residence has broken through into notoriety with the dark, funny, moving book of poetry, “Hide Our Smiles”.  Amazon has selected it for feature and is building the listing as of this post.  Here is the link.  Go Get it!  Support the new writers and join us!  All comments are welcome.  If you are a writer, contact us and we will help you get published in a way you think fits your art form.

Go get Cody’s book! Here —>
Hide Our Smiles!
 


Read “Outliers” by Malcolm Gladwell

Ouliers has filled me with warm thoughts that made me break out in a rash of intelligent conversation and awesome inspiration.  Although it was Key West and the rash was probably Tina or sea lice, I am still happy to have shared the insight and new perspective afforded an open-minded reader of a Gladwell tome. 

Read it.  Tell us what you think!

Vince Flynn’s New Book “Protect and Defend”

I am known to read a lot by those people who have penetrated my deadly, but fluffy, inner circle of poisonous accumen like a virile hatred for the misuse of the comma (more on that later) and a sex-like love for run-on sentences that, if were so inclined, would indeed up and run off to some other white laptop where it wouldn’t be so overworked (never mind underpaid) and forced to live as a politically-correct “it” lacking any hopes of procreating with other word sexies who throttle the jets of other verbs, nouns, and sometimes even the wily adjective. Let us point to the getting here and speak about n author who can write WELL and has far less self-depricating attempts at fishing for a compliment than NakedEric (who likes to refer to his alter ego in third person). I talk, of course, of the super-duper Vince Flynn. His existence is reason to cheer! His books are reason to sit and stare at words for several hours. Some call it reading. I call it playing with my imaginary friends. In the case of Vince Flynn, those friends would be armed conspirators hell-bent on mass murder and political upheaval. Hmmmm, methinks, perhaps not so “imaginary” (wink, wink, nudge, nudge – for more on these topics see my article on our Neo-Nazi folk singer, Thompson). Alas, I digress. I also perspire and long for a woman to love me and make me brownies and falafel. Are you she?

(I’m going to take a quick break and eat my tomato lentil cous cous whick I coused myself!)

I decided to eat it while I type so if I make any spelling errorz or spill cous cous on your new stockings, shut up.

Vince Flynn’s “Protect and Defend” is a mover and without ruining it for you, it takes place in the water. It also takes place on land. Several characters don’t speak English, but Flynn deftly kills them off so we don’t have to deal with that SAP crapola. Right? Bueller?

If you read this amalgam of words and expected a review, then hark! The herald angels sing! I am on page 87, STOP RUSHING ME! I am only writing to commemorate my love for all of Flynn’s books. If you have not read them, do so. I would not steer you wrong. I would not steer you at all. What a freaking weird concept! hark!

A synopsis of the Vince Flynn style:

Mtch Rapp (think James Bond on steroids with a laptop) is a world heralded “secret” agent. Yes, it’s possible because Rapp is THAT good. He is responsible for dealing with the menaces of the world that are conspiring to attack America. Without fail, the conspiracies run deep and blur your mind with their wow factor. Did you ever read a book and think, “Thank God this guy’s a writer. If he wasn’t he’d be very good at being a bad guy.” Like Stephen King. Ever wonder what he’d be doing with all of these sick ideas in his head is he wasn’t merely writing them down? That’s how powerful Flynn is but without the rabid dogs named Cujo. The conspiracies are so tight and believable they seem like they were pulled from the headlines. The characters are built without boring the reader while simultaneously providing the level of detail that makes you feel like you “really know the guy/girl/homo”. As of yet, there have been no homos in Vince Flynn’s books. Lots of pedophiles though. Well, one, but he was fat and very rich and lived on an enormous yacht in Monaco. See, THAT kind of life could drive even skinny people to pedophilia. What did I just say? Edit that out Steve. There is no Steve. Oh my God. I’m alone in here. HELP!

I’m back. Sorry. So, in our post-9/11 lives, it is pertinent and palpable to envision the conspiracies Flynn so deftly knits, wrong word – I meant WEAVES into the plot to cozy up his vivid characters and action sequences that will have your eyes bouncing like you’re watching a tennis match. A homo tennis match. Tennis rhymes with Dennis. Dennis is my Uncle’s name. Maybe Me and Vine Flynn are related!

So kids, go get the book. Vince Flynn is one of the best writers out there today and certainly the best in the Spy Thriller genre. Protect and Defend go get it now! Free receipt with purchase…
-NE

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