Author Archives: Rusty

which may give you a bet­ter sense of what I'm look­ing for here at FCAC.   War Whips it Out in Pub­lic In the night a war steps in the room, a toad­y­ing lick­spit­tle war with bad teeth, a sav­ior com­plex and spindly … Con­tin­ue read­ing →

Epiphany. That’s exact­ly what it was like. An epiphany. It was 2:46 in the morn­ing. I know this because I’d start­ed play­ing a lit­tle game with myself try­ing to guess the time at night as I woke up off and … Con­tin­ue read­ing →

Do you remem­ber that time I swore I’d heard that Dick Clark had died and you said you hadn’t. I said, “It was on NBC, and why would NBC tell me Dick Clark was dead when Dick Clark wasn’t dead?” … Con­tin­ue read­ing →

Some­thing you don’t see every day Miller was telling me that his moth­er had used rope pul­leys and a cement block to build the per­fect sui­cide she had tied a plas­tic bag over her head then pushed the cement block off the bed and … Con­tin­ue read­ing →

I got the 2^nd anniver­sary of Tami’s death creep­ing up on me in less than an hour, one tic past mid­night. I have a sense of dread & ris­ing anx­i­ety, like I’m going to break when it arrives. It didn’t … Con­tin­ue read­ing →

She bought a hotel, on the ocean, because God told her to. For this, she need­ed help, so she turned to God, and gofundme​.com to raise ten mil­lion dol­lars for the pur­chase. She dec­o­rat­ed her hotel with stars and starfish, … Con­tin­ue read­ing →