Written by Ronald Lee Naas on June 19th, 2009
Chapter 3 - Peeking through Kashmir’s Keyhole
So why else would this 45 year old lunatic named Ron (rhymes with cracked pecan) be clutching a bottle of rose wine in my mitt, the other fingering my last Camel, hoping Mr. Bik has one last light in his reservoir, the arrowhead in my pocket gouging my thigh as I sit down on Kashmir’s steps, proud of the double-breasted suit coat I’m wearing from 20 years ago (don’t fashions tend to cycle?), unless I’d been truly smitten? Since childhood.
I who am a failure at most endeavors have been buzzing my blind date’s doorbell. I who have nothing have been tapping at her door. I who have received the slap-on label narcissistic prick from my soon to be EXwife am mucking in rivers over my head. I who am a kayaker and an archer feel I must have already shot my boat full of arrows. Aren’t women famous for changing their switchback minds?
Is my lady thinking I’m just another Otis, who screwed his plantation negro,–promised her marriage and vacations in Israel, but then realized, yes!, his dragon from inside her Skokie mansion would strip him of his last pair of silk drawers?
Or has Kashmir’s son Roger, whom she said is now a flame-carrying black Muslim, returned from college, and wailed, “Ma, don’t tell me you’re about to date another white devil!”
Maybe I’m feeling low as a night crawler trying to tie the strings in his hiking boot because of my Big Affliction. Should I have kept that doctor’s appointment Dragon made for me, before she kicked me off HER patio?
Sitting on that stoop, fat ass feeling the cool of the concrete, hands cradling my lead head, I’m wondering if I haven’t gone as Lonny Tunes as my Aunt Myrtle, who drove her nifty coop 2-seater all the way to the golden shores of California, seeking her lost Jim. I imagine her spiraling up the Rockies, singing, “Love is the most important thing there is.”
But look what happened to Myrtle #1. Last time I visited #2 in Minneapolis, she didn’t recognize her favorite nephew. Should I have rung her doorbell with the abalone shell pressed to my ear? Click to continue »
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Tags: Affliction, Arrowhead, Aunt Myrtle, Bik, Black Muslim, Blind Date, Changing Colors, Chapter 3, Concrete Hands, Dangerous Side, Doorbell, Double Breasted Suit, Hiking Boot, Kashmir, Kayaker, Keyhole, Lonny Tunes, Night Crawler, Skokie, Stoop, Suit Coat, White Devil
Written by Ronald Lee Naas on June 19th, 2009
Let it ghose..
The Difficulty of Letting Go
It was difficult to let go of Chapter 3. Is my opening sentence so clumsy, only Einstein could untangle it? Will the fact Ron yammers on about his mom’s forbidden subjects—politics, religion, and (oh Lordy, Lordy) sex– offend my readers? Is the chapter so hopelessly tangled in flashbacks, I’m turning you into a confused time traveler? What will my Olive-College family think, when the take a gander at the real Ron back in October, 1989?
Yet I remind myself that I’ll never write the perfect chapter. And the purpose of this blog is to get this love story out there, so I can receive comments to consider for future revisions.
So where has midlife mess Ron miffed you off? Are there places you’re tickled by his “loose libido?”
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Tags: Blog, Changing Colors, Chapter 3, College Family, Einstein, Flashbacks, Gander, Kashmir, Keyhole, Libido, Love Story, Mom, Olive College, Opening Sentence, Politics, Religion, Revisions, Time Traveler
Written by Ronald Lee Naas on June 11th, 2009
"Dr. Nash" Retires
When I taught English years ago at City Colleges of Chicago, I required each minority student to keep a journal. Students were given extra credit points to put tickler questions on the left hand corner of the blackboard. My aim was to create a community of writers as soon as possible.
The first day, I always started out with, “What fears do you have as you enter this class?” and “What is soul?” (a slippery word to define. Pen out a good one, Dr. Nash will award you 4 gold stars.)
Have journaled most of my adult life. Along with my students, I read some of my entries out loud to the class, hoping they’d see how rambly and incoherent, emotional and wild, imperfect and downright nuts their professor can be.
I also included this first day of class journal rap. They were similar to one that follows. (Please forgive its religious overtones, for many of my students were born-again Baptists.)
Oh Yea of little faith, take heed in what my 3rd grade teacher Miss Lawler said way back when dinosaurs were still roaming the earth, smoking Cools and lurking late at Fey’s pool hall. My flame-haired teacher said, “Ronnie, why not tell Dear Diary your many problems? Pretend you are speaking into the ear of God.” Click to continue »
Posted in Journaling, Random Ramblings | 2 Responses »
Tags: Adult Life, Baptists, Blue Ink, Chip Board, City Colleges Of Chicago, Darknesses, Dear Diary, Extra Credit, Gold Stars, Grade Teacher, Head And Heart, Journal, Lawler, Left Hand Corner, Little Faith, Minority Student, Pool Hall, Private Parts, Religious Overtones, Scribblings, Smaks
Written by Ronald Lee Naas on June 7th, 2009
The Farm
Most peoples don’t know how lonely the farm is. I mean my sister Nancy carries on with her brown doll Maggie, and mom and dad got each other to lean on like pitchforks. My pet pigeons used to coo to their mates till Bega came along, and set them free to crack their wings over the silo. The city kids got their clicks, the Catholics got their Virgin Mary to sin with, but I’ve got no one to really talk to.
But don’t get me wrong. If you love your freedom, I live in a pretty nifty place. Inside our quarter section, theres fields galore, and tons of corn silk to smoke. Drill you out a cob and a willow branch, you can puff till your tongue gets raw. But to be truthful, nothen gives me a buzz like a Camel does.
And theres secret places you can escape to. When I aint runnen one of my 4 business, they is seasonal, I slip off to Cheever slough. Wade or swim across to The Island, the gasses going blurp blurp as your necked feets sinks down into the oozes, you end up in a wild er ness only us crazy Indians care to under stand. Click to continue »
Posted in Changing Colors Preview, Chapter 2 - Stuff That Could Send Me To Cherokee | 9 Responses »
Tags: Aunt Myrtle, Big Spirit Lake, Cat Tail, City Kids, Corn Silk, Dragon Flies, Feets, Gasses, Mississippi, Mom And Dad, Nifty Place, Oozes, Pigeons, Princess Vicksburg, Quarter Section, Sister Nancy, Slough, Stinging Nettles, Swamp Water, Troubled Waters, Virgin Mary, White Coats, Wild Edibles, Willow Branch
Written by Ronald Lee Naas on June 7th, 2009
Lakewood Loop River Misty
That’s not my idea. But what a relief when I read it in Christine Rainer’s How to Tell your Life Story. Having rough drafted Book1 of Changing Colors, I was concerned I’d made too much use of imagination, which, like some evil snake, couldn’t resist hissing from inside my wicker basket. My inner critic, Detective Joe Friday on that old timey TV series Dragnet, kept insisting, “Just the facts, maam. Just the facts.”
But take a gander at some of wise Christine’s quotes.
“The truth one seeks in autobiographical writing is not literal truth as emotional truth.” And next paragraph, “Mixing imagination with memory is a powerful technique, perhaps the most important secret of autobiographic writing I will teach you (page 109).
My hope is that you will write your own life story. Why should the great stuff you’ve got housed inside your heart and soul drift off like the mists on my 80 Lakewood Loop river?
Lakewood Loop River
How heroic of you to leave your shifting states of consciousness for future generations to ponder and enjoy.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I’m wondering: Did you find the Ronnie in Chapter 2 a likable and believable character? Are you craving to feel what he felt, when his Princess Vicksburg and shadow brother Bega got snatched away? What vows do you intuit he made?
As always, I thank you in advance for your comments.
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Tags: Bega, Believable Character, Book1, Changing Colors, Dragnet, Emotional Truth, Evil Snake, Future Generations, Gander, Great Stuff, Heart And Soul, Inner Critic, Intuit, Joe Friday, Literal Truth, Loop River, Memoir Writing, Old Timey, States Of Consciousness, Vicksburg, Wicker Basket
