N J Ray

 

Life 2.0 and other weird shit 

Dying to Be Me

Dying to Be Me

I’ve been reading Dying to be Me by ANITA MOORJANI. I had first heard of her several years ago…

Thanksgiving and Hopeseizing

Thanksgiving and Hopeseizing

I think Thanksgiving is kind of like Valentine’s Day—if someone beats their partner 364 days a year but brings them chocolate on Valentine’s Day, does that mean that Valentine’s Day is special?

Bohemian Fiction

Bohemian Fiction

Fiction, I’ve read (somewhere) is the art of telling lies that present a greater truth. Fiction walks the tightrope between fantasy and reality.

Confession

Confession

I have a confession to make: I have lost my voice. It’s here, somewhere, or there somewhere. Maybe it’s next to my car keys I can’t find at the moment, either.

Not On My Watch

Not On My Watch

     I had the opportunity to attend “An Evening with Marianne Williamson” on her Love America tour last week. (I love that name. I wish I had come up with it.) She spoke of many things, all of which supported this:   “Where there is love, there are always...

The Why, the More, and the Yes the Now

The Why, the More, and the Yes the Now

In the excitement of having sooo much to write about, my horses were so far behind the cart that they were still checking out the Golden Gate Bridge while the cart was taking in a Broadway show.

Avoiding the Snake Fangs

Avoiding the Snake Fangs

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. Maya Angelou When we attach yourself to someone’s coat-tails, whether his trajectory rises or falls, our view never changes. All we see is ass.

Writing as the World Burns

Writing as the World Burns

“The world could be burning,” a friend once told me, “and you wouldn’t play the fiddle. You’d be writing about the flashes of flame and the smell of singeing hair.” It’s probably true.

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