Pictures Of A New Book Page Thirty Nine

Putting personalized handwritten words on display in the public is a troubling venue to visit. Not Face Book and Twitter! Both serve as brilliant stages to canvas a willingness to express. But nobody can see the wandering eyes of the mystic. Those words. The very blocks of lettering that seemed so right when slipping from a set of one of kind prints connected to your fidgety fingers. What is written usually next to never falls properly into the ears of a passerby What is the envisioned? When readers hit refresh. The picture changes. Unless they're holding a book. As a writer. I challenge my worst side to go public. The shy, hidden away personality that turns jotting words down like a shot of sugar shoved into the veins of everyday. Big business calls it stepping out of the box. I call it comedy. I laugh before I go on stage. I laugh after reading several pages from the books chapters. I treat what I do like a joke. You can't take the people in the audience serious! Especially since 98% of them are still trying to digest the opening sentences. I spend a lot of time on college campuses teaching Radio Broadcasters, "You have seven seconds to land the attention of your listener. After that... its 100% natural ability." The featured photograph is that writer that lives in me. Fourteen chapters deep into his book Scrambled Eggs and he felt the rest of me should join him outside. The box. In public. On display. Not one person responded when he left the stage. Not a moment was spent explaining the layout. Nor a passing breeze felt by the cold air delivered by the listening audience. The writer doesn't care. I set it free into the universe that supports my art. Now it's up to the universe to find the required soil to let there be life after the Poet.