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Memoir Writing as Tripping… and Shape Shifting

Monday, June 1st, 2009

In “Chapter 1-Dancing on the Dangerous Side,” I got the opportunity to enter the consciousness of 45 year-old-Ron Naas (rhymes with not the boss).  To borrow a phrase from Eckhart Tolle, except for Ron’s remembrances of his Princess Vicksburg, he’s mainly in his “pain body.”  I do enjoy being Midlife Mess Ron for a spell, probably because I’m pleasured by his blues rifts, or as my son Steffen calls them, his rants.

Ronnie 4th Grade

Ronnie 4th Grade

In “Chapter 2-Stuff That Could Send Me To Cherokee,” I will offer you the chance to time travel and become 4th grade Ronnie-the year around 1952.  This character tickles me, his voice one that’s worked with Dr. Nash and this author for neigh on 20 years.  In “Chapter 3-Peeking through Kashmir’s Keyhole,” this writer from memory and imagination will return to love-seeking Ron and his rant chants.  “Chapter 4, Fleeing up My Lady’s Backstairs” will explain his Little Affliction, which casts him into a sea of doubt.  (His Big Affliction won’t be revealed till way later, but believe you me, he sure does leave lots of clues.)

Sisters

Sisters

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Chapter 1. Dancing on the Dangerous Side

Thursday, May 7th, 2009

Changing Colors Book 1 The Long and Winding River to Kashmir’s Door

Gratitudes

Honoring my parents, Marjorie Ethel Jones and Samuel Arthur Naas.  Although in these 2 books they may seem like villains, in the end they too changed their colors.

Smiling upon my sister Nancy, who always believed in my talents to weave a true Irish tale.

Remembering the sisters who have rocked my soul, see-ers like Evelyn Green and healers like Berlina Baker at the Stream of life, South Side Chicago.

Loving, always as if for the first time, Ms. Mahogany Kashmir Dubonet Moses.  Without her spark our love story would never have been spelled out.

Thanking my brother Terry Naas, who continues to make my heart tender, and my Aunt Myrtle Waters, who gifted my child with the ocean whispers from her abalone shell.

Stealing another kiss from Princess Vicksburg, and high-fiving Bega-the bookends who represent my personal myth.

Hallelujahing the long-tailed Dragon.  Without her “Out, out, I want you out of MY house,” my kayaking adventures in the boundary waters of romance would never have gotten launched. Click to continue »