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

During the day, the ice drips from the overhang outside of my door at work. The gutter is useless as the ice creeps over it no matter how many times I knock it away. It says, "You can't keep me from weeping," with its out-of-sync drip-dropping. I've stopped knocking it down, now. At night, the icicles turn to freezing sleep.

Austin, TX

Everything seems covered in a blanket of ice from here to Texas. My bones feel frozen and as stiff as those horses. These are slow, crawling days. Like glaciers creeping along valleys through time.

It's a wonder how any of us make it through the winter without going absolutely stir-crazy. Without succumbing to the blankets of ice ourselves.


I wouldn't mind the snow so much. Those beautiful nights when everything is still and large flakes fall from the sky like feathers. An ethereal pillow fight. It's the bitter cold. The ice. The driving and biting winds I can't stand. Stepping outside my door is a challenge.

When I was a kid, I loved winter. It meant sledding and days off from school. Snow forts and snowmen. Hot chocolate. This past Christmas brought me some of that joy again. I cling to that moment now with every bit of strength I have. The woman I love and her beautiful children were close. My best friend was still here laughing and smiling. Everyone seemed so happy and calm...and I finally felt at peace again after so long. Happiness. I hope it's not over.

..

The fluctuating of the weather between moments of sun and warmth to the bitter, chilling winds and ice mirror the climbing and falling of my own heart and mind. It's been an entire month since my dear friend passed away so suddenly, but the days still seem long and the nights endless. Sleep is a difficult chore and when it does come, it comes in small doses. It's hard to see beauty anywhere sometimes, but it finds a way to wander into my mind or into view.

Ice clinging to a chain-link fence. Small prints of a rabbit in freshly fallen snow. The embrace of a friend. Love returned from the one you love so deeply. And the sunsets. They've seemed so beautiful since you left. Or maybe you just make us slow down to notice them now. In either case, thank you.

Words don't come easily right now. It seems like a death in itself to someone who holds the pen so close to his heart. Sometimes I'm just afraid of what may escape me. That I may not be able to hold onto it after it bleeds onto the pages. Memories are so vivid in my mind. So perfect. Words don't seem to be enough right now.

But I'm trying. And every day I get out of bed, struggle to push through the exhaustion. It may get worse before it gets better, but I hope the storm will pass. I need the sun on my face. To feel the grass and the trails beneath my feet. To see life springing forth from every nook and cranny. Maybe there's still some left inside of me. It's hard to tell some days. Some days, I feel for a pulse. Or pinch myself wishing it were a dream. But my heart still beats, however faint. And I still feel the pinch in my flesh.

Usher in the Spring. I'm tired of the cold and the darkness.

On December 22nd, Brian Fanelli, myself and a handful of other writer/poets will be having a reading at the Exhale Hookah Lounge in Scranton, PA. The reading will begin at 7 p.m. and each of us will be on for 10-15 minutes a piece.

For more information on the lounge, check out their website.

EVENT INFO:
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Exhale Hookah Lounge and Kabob Grill
136 Wyoming Ave.
Scranton, PA
(570) 955-0250
www.exhalegrill.com
Reading starts @ 7 p.m.

..

The details for the March poetry reading, which I've been invited to, have been finalized.

On March 4th, First Friday in Scranton, PA, poet Alicia Pica will be the featured reader at the Vintage Theater. The reading starts at 6 p.m. After Alicia Pica is finished, I will be reading some of my work. Author and poet Brian Fanelli, author of "Front Man" from Big Table Publishing Company, will be following me. We'll each be reading for around 15 to 20 minutes.

This event will be free to the public, but donations of old cellphones and cellphone accessories will be collected for local battered women's centers.

Along with the poetry reading, artwork from Alicia Pica and Lynette Thick will be featured in the theater.


Event info:
------------
MARCH FIRST FRIDAY 

Readers:
Alicia Pica
Dale Wilsey Jr.
Brian Fanelli

March 4th @ 6 p.m.
The Vintage Theater in Scranton, PA
119 Penn Avenue

Over the course of the past seven years, I've come into contact with artists from all walks of life and working in various aspects of the creative world. A lot of these people that I've encountered have been forgettable. Honestly, most of them have been forgettable. People who created worthless art just so they had an excuse to say, "Hey, I'm an artist". It gave them a reason to justify their pompous, holier-than-thou attitudes. Well, those people will be forgotten by more than just myself. When you're no more interesting than the shit I step in by accident while feeding my dog but every bit as annoying, that happens.


Those people who I've met that create truly good art and not trash that makes me want to punch the nearest hipster square in the jaw have given me hope for a future filled with beautiful creations to behold. We may just have to search a little harder to find these creations. At least I've happened across a few. 


Christa Felice, a painter and now a dear friend of mine, possesses an incredible talent for turning canvas into truly moving works of art. In her own words: 

"I am a painter whose goal is to create dynamic compositions through the use of exciting visual devices. In some of my paintings I use invented figures as departure points. Other times my work is void of recognizable imagery completely as subject matter is secondary to overall form. My main focus is not to recreate images that we have all seen before but rather to strip my work of all narrative and concentrate on composition. Therefore I am able to push my boundaries by arranging shapes and colors in unexpected ways accomplishing compelling movement while maintaining a sense of balance and overall harmony."

Decide for yourself:

It's been quite a while. About nine months, to be exact. It seems as though I had forgotten this blog and left it to rot among the piles of other worthless sites. Originally, I wanted to keep this blog away from my creative writing, but that seems to be the only type of writing I really do anymore. Every once in a while I get the urge to write a commentary, but not nearly enough to fill this blog.


Since my creative writing seems to be rolling along at the moment, I've decided to make this blog more of an outlet for just about anything I do. All inclusive, if you will.
As far as my writing goes, I've finally gotten around to getting it out there for the public. Whether or not they'll like it is another story. If I can get a few people to stick around and listen, that's a few more than I would expect to.


Author and poet Brian Fanelli and I met at a Barrelhouse reading not to long ago and got to talking about readings. Through a few E-mails and a bit of "your read mine and I'll read yours", we've planned a few readings together along with a few other local writers.


No definite dates have been set, but the first one will be taking place prior to the holiday if all goes well. A date for that will manifest shortly. Two other readings have been set for the February and March during Scranton's First Friday. March's reading will be taking place at the Vintage Theater. More specifics to come.


Now, if I can keep focused, I may update this damn place every once in a while.


'Til then, cheers.
d.r. wilsey jr.