I just returned from a fufilling trip to my homtown. Visited family and friends that I had not seen in years. On my usual visits, I was always thinking...when will this end so I can write?  I should be writing and not having fun. I would mentally track how long I was visiting someone and count the hours when I would be through with the visit. I love my family and friends very deeply, but in my writing mode train of thought, if I was not consciously thinking about writing, then somehow I felt I was failing as a writer. NO MORE!  I turned out/off the writer editor in my mind. I thoroughly enjoyed each person I visited. I reconnected with cousins I had not seen in years. I was able to live in the present and slurp the love and affection offered and received.  My sides hurt from laughter and tears from nostalgia. What I was surprised to find was that my not focusing on writing for the ten days I was gone had increased my productivity when I got home. Thoughts are bombarding me and a storyline I was struggling with is now fertile with detail. My advice, when presented the opportunity kick off the flip flops, drink a margarita with loved ones and don't worry about writing. It'll be there when you get back to life.

This is the second or third time I've been to Arizona, usually I am visiting Phoenix/Tempe. This is my first time to Tucson. Mabye it's the wind, clear skies, or cactus twice the size of a building, but I feel small here. And, at the same time, inspired. I had what I call a heart-spell in Dec 2009, took some time off writing, not my intention,buy my heart said, "Okay, it's time to take care of me."  So, I've tended to my health, listenend to the docs (not something I'm prone to do, I'm at the core of my being anti western medicine) and recovered. What I didn't expect to have happen was when my heart healed and so did my heart-soul. That part of myself that I lost somewhere along the aisle. What I've come back to is that the only thing in life that truly matters is how we magnify, distort, ignore, manipulate, run from, run to--love. I also have come to terms that even in the direst of times, impending the unkown, all I could think of was, how can I use this in my writing? I'm %90 finished with another novel and I'm sure there are many more in the outerspace of my mind. I'm not as concerned with getting my writing published as I was, I'm now concerned with writing until I'm unable to write knowing that I've given it my best effort and I've deeply loved what I've done. 

My Chapbook Ghosts For Jesse Jewel will be published later this year. Pre orders will be taken mid August for a November 2009 release. Why poetry? No one reads poetry anymore and if they do they subscribe to the dead poets club. I have written poetry for over twenty years. My poems are a personal account of how I make sense of the world around me and I had no intention of ever making them public. That was until I moved to rural Kentucky. The land I purchased was part of a farm that was sold to pay the nursing home bill of the original owners. My neighbor is the son of that owner and he now lives on less than one acre of land when he used to roam hundreds of acres. Ghosts For Jesse Jewel chronicles his early life on the farm and how he has addressed the changes in lifestyle caused by the misfortune in his family. These poems are short, easily read and each one is a story in itself. I encourage you to take a look at Ghosts For Jesse Jewel if only for the reason to glimpse a lifestyle that is quickly fading from our American landscape.

My current pet peeve?  Poor communication!! I recently had the opportunity to write articles on the topic of spirituality/new age. I enjoyed the assignment as those topics intrigue me. I don't promote any one theory, but I do enjoy thinking about the possibilities of the supernatural with an open mind. At the mid point of the project, my editor stopped all forms of communication with me. After the first day with no communication I thought he got caught up in the day to day grind. After day two with no communication I as mildly alarmed. After day seven I was more confused than alarmed. Did the aliens I was writing about abduct him? Was I supposed to use my psychic powers to communicate with him? Should I assemble a seance table to contact the spirit world for answers? The easiest solution would be to drop me a single line email...project stalled will be in touch next week. This solution in communication is much simpler than involving the spirit world for answers and it's way more credible.

Divorced parents who put their children in the middle of their emotional immaturity. I happened to be in a courtroom recently and the divorcing mom ask the judge, "Since I pay for the cellphone do Ihave to let my ex call them on it?  HELLOOOOOOO!  The judge told her that in no way would she order that the dad could not contact his kids on their phone regardless of who paid for it. The mother in question (and I use that term lightly) did not like the judge's answer. The mom's question was a microcosm of how she programs her children against their father. Let's say he was a lowlife, unemployed, loser and that's why she divorced him. She should divorce him, and I approve of her divorcing him,  but she should let the children decided on their own what kind of father he will become. I've seen numerous accounts of lousy husbands that were great fathers. Maybe I'm biased, but in my experience I've seen too many moms poison the relationship with the children and their father.  Grow up ladies!!!

Our local news interviewed the mom, who "lost the fight with my daughter and she was allowed to put the Internet computer in her room." This fifteen year old was not only abducted, kidnapped and raped, but mentally tortured as well. She managed to escape and survive (against the statistics). The question that keeps swirling in my thoughts is, what was the mom thinking? My only assumption was that she was clueless to the dangers that her daughter was exposed to online. It does not seem possible that with all of the exposure of internet crime in the media that this mom was uninformed. I have no answer, only the deep conviction that word must get out that the Internet is as dangerous as leaving your door unlocked and the neon sign with a bright red arrow that says, "Welcome, pedophiles, deviants and perverts my child is sleeping in the second room on the right.