DRIFTIN' BACK AIN'T WHO I USED TO BE
Can't really tell you when I started writin' this book.
Ain't no clean-cut birthday for the journey of these words.
Maybe it was one rainy-ass afternoon, raindrops tappin' like fingers on an old rusty tin roof- like the sky was knockin' on my spirit.
Or maybe it was from some dream I ain't finish, me floatin' in a pitch-black sea, nothin' 'round me but cries, people callin' out to each other with voices that cracked and broke, callin' with their whole chest like they was drownin'.
But truth be told...
I don't think I ever started this story.
I just been carryin' it.
Quietly.
Like somethin' smolderin' way deep down-
waitin' to bloom into words.
Like a seed been hidin' in the dirt, waitin' on that one heavy rain.
These words didn't come from some comfy-ass couch, me sippin' on fancy civet coffee, with the AC hummin' all smooth.
This book ain't got no scent of new paper.
It's stained.
With sweat, with blood, with tears- and that damn salty sea.
These words?
They like claw marks on a boat's edge.
Like a mama bitin' her lip so hard holdin' her dead baby, one arm grippin' the boat's side tight, 'cause she know if she let go, they both goin' under.
If I don't write this down,
I'm scared I'ma forget.
And I don't wanna forget.
Not the soft kinda memory.
But that heavy, festering kind- like a wound that don't close.
I wanna remember every dead gaze, every limp hand, every name that nobody call no more.
I wanna remember the souls still floatin' somewhere, caught between here and the beyond- lingerin' in dreams, in the temple bells ringin' 'round dusk, in that incense smoke that just won't fade, in the wind blowin' salty from the past.
I used to know Chu Hai- a little Catholic village, hugged up tight by winding dirt roads, where church bells rang every mornin', every night, like the earth itself was whisperin' soft to you.
1147488474
DRIFTIN' BACK AIN'T WHO I USED TO BE
Can't really tell you when I started writin' this book.
Ain't no clean-cut birthday for the journey of these words.
Maybe it was one rainy-ass afternoon, raindrops tappin' like fingers on an old rusty tin roof- like the sky was knockin' on my spirit.
Or maybe it was from some dream I ain't finish, me floatin' in a pitch-black sea, nothin' 'round me but cries, people callin' out to each other with voices that cracked and broke, callin' with their whole chest like they was drownin'.
But truth be told...
I don't think I ever started this story.
I just been carryin' it.
Quietly.
Like somethin' smolderin' way deep down-
waitin' to bloom into words.
Like a seed been hidin' in the dirt, waitin' on that one heavy rain.
These words didn't come from some comfy-ass couch, me sippin' on fancy civet coffee, with the AC hummin' all smooth.
This book ain't got no scent of new paper.
It's stained.
With sweat, with blood, with tears- and that damn salty sea.
These words?
They like claw marks on a boat's edge.
Like a mama bitin' her lip so hard holdin' her dead baby, one arm grippin' the boat's side tight, 'cause she know if she let go, they both goin' under.
If I don't write this down,
I'm scared I'ma forget.
And I don't wanna forget.
Not the soft kinda memory.
But that heavy, festering kind- like a wound that don't close.
I wanna remember every dead gaze, every limp hand, every name that nobody call no more.
I wanna remember the souls still floatin' somewhere, caught between here and the beyond- lingerin' in dreams, in the temple bells ringin' 'round dusk, in that incense smoke that just won't fade, in the wind blowin' salty from the past.
I used to know Chu Hai- a little Catholic village, hugged up tight by winding dirt roads, where church bells rang every mornin', every night, like the earth itself was whisperin' soft to you.
17.02 In Stock
DRIFTIN' BACK AIN'T WHO I USED TO BE

DRIFTIN' BACK AIN'T WHO I USED TO BE

by Dïng A. Nguy?n
DRIFTIN' BACK AIN'T WHO I USED TO BE

DRIFTIN' BACK AIN'T WHO I USED TO BE

by Dïng A. Nguy?n

Paperback(Novel)

$17.02 
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Overview

Can't really tell you when I started writin' this book.
Ain't no clean-cut birthday for the journey of these words.
Maybe it was one rainy-ass afternoon, raindrops tappin' like fingers on an old rusty tin roof- like the sky was knockin' on my spirit.
Or maybe it was from some dream I ain't finish, me floatin' in a pitch-black sea, nothin' 'round me but cries, people callin' out to each other with voices that cracked and broke, callin' with their whole chest like they was drownin'.
But truth be told...
I don't think I ever started this story.
I just been carryin' it.
Quietly.
Like somethin' smolderin' way deep down-
waitin' to bloom into words.
Like a seed been hidin' in the dirt, waitin' on that one heavy rain.
These words didn't come from some comfy-ass couch, me sippin' on fancy civet coffee, with the AC hummin' all smooth.
This book ain't got no scent of new paper.
It's stained.
With sweat, with blood, with tears- and that damn salty sea.
These words?
They like claw marks on a boat's edge.
Like a mama bitin' her lip so hard holdin' her dead baby, one arm grippin' the boat's side tight, 'cause she know if she let go, they both goin' under.
If I don't write this down,
I'm scared I'ma forget.
And I don't wanna forget.
Not the soft kinda memory.
But that heavy, festering kind- like a wound that don't close.
I wanna remember every dead gaze, every limp hand, every name that nobody call no more.
I wanna remember the souls still floatin' somewhere, caught between here and the beyond- lingerin' in dreams, in the temple bells ringin' 'round dusk, in that incense smoke that just won't fade, in the wind blowin' salty from the past.
I used to know Chu Hai- a little Catholic village, hugged up tight by winding dirt roads, where church bells rang every mornin', every night, like the earth itself was whisperin' soft to you.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9798317684464
Publisher: Barnes & Noble Press
Publication date: 05/27/2025
Edition description: Novel
Pages: 194
Product dimensions: 5.83(w) x 8.27(h) x 0.45(d)

About the Author

NGUY?N ÐÔNG A – A FEW LINES ‘BOUT THE MAN BEHIND THE WORDS
Nguy?n Ðông A, born Nguy?n Thành Son in 1957, came up outta Long Ði?n, back in the old Phu?c Tuy province of Vietnam. Grew up in the Southern lands — Long Ði?n, Bà R?a, Vung Tàu — places with sunbaked roads, salted winds, and memory hangin’ in the air like incense smoke. Later, he made his way to America, callin’ Oregon and Maryland home.
He studied deep, and wide too — language, literature, history — back at the Teachers' University, the old Saigon University, and the Institute of Social Sciences in Saigon. Writin' and learnin' been part of his rhythm long before folks knew his name.
“...There are writers who move like underground streams—quiet, steady, unhurried—yet every word, every line, patiently plows through the soil of literature with unwavering persistence. Nguy?n Ðông A is one of those writers. A Vietnamese-American author living in the United States, he writes in English—not the standard, polished kind, but a layered, deeply textured English shaped by the rhythms and cadences of Black American culture. Specifically, he leans into African American Vernacular English, known as AAVE...” (Readers' Comments About Nguyen Dong A”
Some of his recent works include:
1. Sparkle in the Silk Robe – A photographic meditation. Van hóa & Van ngh? Publishing House, 2017.
2. Grass That Grows Alone – Literary writings. Vietnam Writers’ Association Publishing House, 2017.
3. A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss – A collective literary anthology (curated and edited by Nguy?n Ðông A). Published both in the U.S. (Khoi Dòng Press, 2021) and in Vietnam (Vietnam Writers’ Association Publishing House, 2021).
4. Soul of the Mountains, Spirit of the Rivers – Cultural essays on Southeast Vietnam. Vietnam Writers’ Association Publishing House, 2022.
5. The Man on the Cross – A reflective nonfiction work on Catholicism in Vietnam. Published by Vietnam Writers’ Association Publishing House & Nhân ?nh on Amazon, 2022.
6. Priest: What Have I Done? – A transformation of poems into memoir, Vietnamese into English. Edited and rewritten by Nguy?n Ðông A. Dual print editions and global Ebook release, 2025.
7. The Burning Amulet in the Rain – A short story & novella collection. Published in both English & Vietnamese by Khoi Dòng Press, 2025. Available worldwide via Barnes & Noble (USA).
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