Tag Archives: Nicholaus Patnaude

“Lost Teacher”

29 Apr

“Lost Teacher”

We might’ve heard
among things said
we could only communicate
through rumors, whistles
like you were struck by lightning
twice or thrice
or as if a windshield-smashing accident
could crack the road
these were explosions of our being
this was us: born teachers
the boyish athlete wanted to surge out of

you
were
complete,
on the evening of some talent show
on the same bases rounded
by Abbott and Costello
at blistering speeds, at amusement parks
in constellation school bus rides
to Misquamicut-washed twilights
who tied his bowling shoes
to telegraph poles and minimarts
a perfect evening spoiled
by the harpy cry,
of a movie theatre’s belittling dreams
as if to close his shutters
could renew a passion for theater
in the winking of a blinking
exit-stage-left-generous eye.

Paper Dungeon #1: “The Cave of Wysterical Pines,” a solo rpg zine game, released today

16 Apr
This is a campaign for Paper Dungeon.

A troll flying on a dragon has run off with your entire family. You were already running late to school. The goblin egg bread was burning. Snow threatened to peek through the pink, velvety clouds. Your favorite television show was on, Living with My Alien Family, so it was especially difficult to leave. You’d also been spending less and less time with your son and begun to grow sick of driving to work with the sun barely rising and then returning home after the sun had already set.

You are studying to be a stationmaster. You’ve always had the most delightful conversations on trains, surrounded by cigar smoke and cinnamon buns on your morning commute. A spare bit of jam is passed to you for your toast by a mechanical hand, more like the fist of a buzzard sprouting right out of one of those grandfather clocks modern trains are all abuzz with these days.

In this campaign you will visit “The Cave of Wysterical Pines.”

You may play this solo or with a group.
The .pdf contains a map to roll a d6 upon, a character sheet, descriptions and encounters for the six map locations, and methods to interact with this world using a d100. Be prepared to narrate, draw, or journal to make this world your own.

Grab a free copy or buy one if you dare….

Procedures for play-watching TEENAGE EXORCIST (1991; dir. Grant Austin Wolfman)

3 Apr

Procedures for play-watching TEENAGE EXORCIST (1991; dir. Grant Austin Wolfman):

1. Roll to see which character you will play as on the game collage board.

2. Roll a d50. Then pick the state you will be in from the United States.

3. Search houses to rent on a real estate rental website. Then pick the cheapest house to rent in the state. This will be your daily rent, not your monthly rent, in this game.

4. Roll a d100 to determine how many thousands of dollars you have in savings then divide this number by 5.

5. The object of this game is to stay in the house for 30 days.

6. Roll a d30. This number is your stress level. If you go above 30, you become a teenage exorcist for life and lose.

7. Every thousand dollars you go into debt, raise your stress level by 1.

8. Each day you stay in this house you follow this procedure:

  • a. Write one sentence or draw a quick sketch about what might happen next while watching the film.
  • b. Deduct daily rental amount from your total savings.
  • c. Write one sentence or draw a quick sketch about the struggles you face in your school or in your neighborhood living secretly as a teenage exorcist.
  • d. Roll on the following d6 table to determine what might be going wrong with your rented house:

9. Try to make it to the end of the film or to the end of 30 days (whichever comes first) before raising your stress level past 30.

“Periods Beyond Pain”

11 Mar

“Periods Beyond Pain”

A guided parachute wins ruined leaves
from a hunter on the verge
of sprouting deer wings,
incited by a chorus of blind serpents’
leggings crossed gloss our fish legs
tied to stirrups in a bottle of spirits
by a chipmunk’s skull
until a riptide of oblivion involves blossoms.

“Gifts of Essence”

3 Dec

“Gifts of Essence”

I’ll swear by the jacket of your destitute
of hairs and flies and paramours
when long hairs stick to a murderer’s
white cotton cape, brief top hat
smoking mustache
ire destined for cannon-fodder
a grin to wedge past centuries
bikinis, at bottom, ferocious pests
and like snarling, staring into ore
long past microscopes
the gypped oath, chipping
along candy-cane lanes
legs for dollars, our sweethearts
when all dolls have laughed enough
gadflies or gallbladders,
one last innocent look,
before the droppings of coal
the ecstasy of rabbits
footprints in the snow
which shall hold no name
known bearers of the sun’s weight
barren as the pockmarks
shattered bullets in our lockets.

I started a podcast about movies called Pink Midnight

26 Aug

“Worth a Trace”

2 Jul

“Worth a Trace”

Let’s make a truce,
draw lines in the sand,
pull fruit from the bottom of potted plants,
pull fools from stars,
crown the crutches, deliver the imps,
outline the jesters in magic ink,
for we are the rivers of twice-told tales,
the tomfoolery, the barns without answers,
bars filled with ice skaters,
we’re in our pretty dresses,
ready to be placed on cakes,
and we were you,
holding hands in the sunset distance
vanishing but with a streaking trace
we were here for your temporary rescue
we were your lover’s regrets
we were your missed-you tissues
but we’ll come flocking back
we’ll always need to recollect the roses.

“Guileless Ship Along the Barge”

15 Jun

“Guileless Ship Along the Barge”

For though the broken ramparts,
and the reed tidies up her string,
the cost of a cool morning
the bankrupt,
like dining out,
waves crushing
this speed without a destiny
tends to loosen grips both impish
and mighty,
in thunderous applause
in rage that includes the edging
as if neighbors still could mean something
till the smoke still has risen,
the finality of your grave
the show is closing and about to begin,
you are and there,
you’re the breath rising along the ridge,
left to us and dying of thirst,
for at last our marathons,
at last our mimics in amber.

“I’m Sorry, Nightingale”

30 Mar

“I’m Sorry, Nightingale”

& I’m sorry in May
& I’m sorry for the daffodils
my matted hair; my pleated skirt
& I’m sorry for the idea of it
& I’m sorry for your everlasting love
& I’m sorry for being a bank robber,
a hairdresser; a scoundrel and a thief
& I’m sorry for horses in September
their breathes of rose smoke,
& I’m sorry for the bridge, for folded hands
for table manners,
it’s like the disease is beneath you
it’s like we’re walking a plank
to a madhouse
& I’m sorry turtle doves
& I’m sorry for the roasted apples,
the chipped teeth, the carousel evenings
even if a magician wears white gloves
even if thou
should tear away from sorrow
in loving memory.

“Band Without a Leader”

11 Mar

“Band Without a Leader”

If it leads by the teeth of your leash
pour me into the blind white pint
of a bald leopard curse striking pink
these goggles know holy waters
dead lips
these goggles last you merry winters,
for merry are we the “volcano sisters”
in seismic semaphore,
in seizures casting grooves in holy silence
splashing a hold on you:
the veined gloves, the throttle of control
I’d like to breathe a birthday wish
through to your carcass in ripples
these swirling universes
the steel private of a thief
whip-its of lead
peel me a rose from a real treat
titters and an ice-cold glass
the grapes are window-dressing
and tell me, tell me, tell me
to tease your wings to flakes of frost
I’d fall all over the weasel of you.