Manic Frustration “If I do not write to empty my mind, I go mad.” ~Lord Byron

A new year means more writing and much more reading. Last year, I squeezed in 32 books. I even had time to review some of them on Goodreads. That site has been extraordinarily helpful with finding new reading material. Books I never would have found have been suggested to me or I've found them by chance. My "to read" list grows by the day. Below is what I devoured in 2012 with links to reviews, if I happened to write one, and where you can pick it up.

There's been an absence of words here, but they're spilling out all over my desk. The floor. Pages and scraps of paper. I've begun work on a poetry manuscript. I've been revising old work and starting new. The season is new. The weather is new. My energy and mind are refreshed.

Busy days. Incredible nights. Weekends are always full of something. This weekend, Prose in Pubs swings back around to Jack's Draft House in Scranton on Sunday. Open mic. The first time it has gone non-invitation. It should be an interesting lineup. I'll be reading some new work. Stop on by.


The manuscript is coming along slowly but surely. It will be some time before I have a rough draft completed and probably some time after that until it is finalized and ready to send out. Then I'll find out that it is not yet finalized. Edit, submit, edit, submit. These are the hurdles of writing.

I've picked up my guitar again. Bought a glass slide to try and mimic Bukka White. It's coming along even slower than the manuscript, but it's a release of energy and creativity. It's needed when I cannot form the words. What better way to clear the mind by making music. Or noise. Sometimes I just like to strum and croon along with the old blues masters.

I've been tumbling some ideas for blog entries around my mind, so bare with me. Be patient. Not that you've been sitting on the edge of your seat waiting in anticipation for me. Maybe you have. I'd like to think you have.

Time to fill the apartment with music and the scent of whatever I feel like cooking. Until next time...

It's incredible how things can fall into place. How, from a seemingly chaotic existence, life unfolds and sets the pieces together. The picture takes form right before your eyes. There are still points to my life that create stress and worry but, as a whole, I'm feeling good. I can finally see the semblance of the picture. The pieces are being set into place.



It's been two months since I've moved to Scranton. I read more. Spend more time with incredible friends. Lose myself in hidden nooks of Nay Aug park. And, finally, inspiration is seeping back into my life. Words once lost have begun to take shape. Spill onto the pages.

The warming days and blazing, brilliant sunsets bring a change too great not to mention. Thoughts are deeper. Increasingly clear. It almost makes the worry of living paycheck to paycheck melt away.


There's renewed happiness in my life. A connection and peace that I believed to be forever broken is being restored. I've actually caught myself smiling more than I've been feeling burdened. Some questions are yet to be answered, but exploring them has become enjoyable.

I know what I want. And I've taken steps to acquire it without hesitation. We've only one chance to make our lives what we want. Many wait for the doors to open and show them the way.

Don't wait.

They never open on their own.

Through the years of interaction with people in my life, I've had some rather incredible, awkward, weird, interesting, humbling and fascinating conversations. Over the weekend, however, I was confronted with one so unexpected, I was momentarily rendered speechless. 

hawleysilkmill.com

It's been quiet for me as far as writing goes. Publicly, anyway. Between long work hours and various other projects, I haven't taken part in a reading since summer. But the pen keeps moving. Fingers keep clacking away. I've been working on new poetry and tackling bigger projects as well as diving back into photography.

Winter always seems to get me writing more, though. While the molasses slows, my words quicken. I've got to do something with my time cooped up indoors. Something tells me I'd more than likely begin emulating Jack Torrance without writing. Then again, he was a writer. Maybe it's innevitable.

This winter I've been invited to trudge from the confines of my home and release my words before an audience.

Prose in Pubs, brainstormed and created by fellow writer Amye Archer, has been, in my opinion, the best ongoing literary event in the northeast Pennsylvania region for the better part of a year. Amye has consistently showcased local writers from around the NEPA region who's talent never ceases to amaze me. And, for the last handful of Prose in Pubs, she has begun adding one national act to the mix.

Prose in Pubs is a no frills event. Sans-microphone, even. Couple that with the incredible venue which is Jack's Draft House and you end up with a laid-back, thought-provoking beautiful night.

In January, I'll be joining Gale Martin, Dawn Colangelo Leas and Laura E.J. Moran for 2012's first Prose in Pubs. It promises to be an incredible night, as every PiP tends to be. So, when you've got nothing to do on a cold (if the weather ever decides to match the season) January night, come out to Jack's on the 22nd to join us for a drink and some words.

- You can find more information about Prose in Pubs by visiting the Facebook page here.
- Visit Dawn Leas's site here.
- Visit Gale Martin's blog here.
- Visit Laura E.J. Moran's site here.

That is one of the most important things I was told after reading the first seven pages of what is to become my first full-length book to a group of writers I meet with every week. "Tell your story." That is my plan. The first words hit the page just a few days ago and it has started off slowly. Transitioning from writing mostly poetry to re-introducing prose into the mix has been my most difficult task.

Zines have been a staple of the DIY community, music scenes, art scenes and they've carried the voices of rebellion and free thought for decades. On June 11th, the growing art community of Scranton will converge on Center Street to celebrate this diverse, pulp-filled art form.

Zine Fest is the creation of Jessica Meoni, a fourth-year, Graphic Design student at Marywood, who has been involved with past events such as Scranton Ladyfest. Recently, she has joined the design committee of the Pages & Places Book Festival and the Scranton Reads committee.

Jessica has brought together "zinesters" from all over to participate in the event. As an added bonus, she's invited a few poets to the mix for a reading to take place in what used to be the Anthology bookstore.

The Fest is fast approaching and Saturday evening, amidst a few beers (and one delicious bowl of chili) at Jack's Draft House, I met with Jessica and the other poets who I'll be reading with the day of. Among them are Brian Fanelli, a friend and poet from the area who's chapbook Frontman contains poems which traces the journey of a liberty-spiked punk rocker, Amy Archer, who's made 80's hair poetic (it can be done), Alexis Czencz Belluzi, Rachael Goetzke and Charlotte Lewis. The reading will take place at 4 p.m. and will be hosted by Brian Fanelli.

The Fest promises to be an eclectic mix of people and ideas which Jessica has ideas of continuing as an annual event. Tables will be arranged along Center Street and will feature art work, an array of zines and arts & crafts from varying sources. Even the poets have a table (they'll be selling everything from jewelry to souls). You can check out the Zine Fest site for more information on who will be there and what the fest will entail.

For more about the poets, you can visit these sites:
The Fat Girl Skinny - Amy Archer's blog
BrianFanelli.com

...and you're already reading mine.

Tomorrow night, at the Vintage Theater in Scranton, Ali Pica and Lynette Thick's "Recycled Communication" Art Exhibit will be taking place with Ali Pica reading some of her poetic works. The exhibit opens at 6 p.m. and Ali will be reading around 7:30. At 8, the mic opens for poetry, music or the mad ramblings of a drunken, homeless bum. Whichever comes first. However, barring any bum takeovers, I will be reading some of my work during the open mic. Brian Fanelli, who I've mentioned on this blog and have had the pleasure of reading with before, may also be joining the open mic portion. Check out Brian's chapbook "Frontman".

Whatever the outcome, it promises to be another good First Friday in Scranton.