Category Archives: Writing

Rusty’s writings and musings

White Trousers – Keep on Dancing

A song can make a difference in our life. The tunes that play in our mind, followed by the words, can all affect our choices and as such our life.

I found the start of a song in a folder on my computer from many years ago. It was a song about a relationship that came to an abrupt end after a very heated argument one night. As I read the words, my artistic mind began to wonder what would have happened if we had not called it off so quickly, what if we had given it another go… who knows…

Don’t get me wrong, this was not a regret, nor was it a fantasy, it came with the realization that sometimes we end things before we actually know it is time.

I am a lucky man to have Joanne as my wife, I want to always honor and respect the best relationship I have ever been blessed enough to live in. It was this knowing that prompted me to want to rewrite this song from the perspective of how I handle my affairs now with Joanne. I don’t entertain the option (why would I?) to bail, quit, give up or threaten to do any sort of leaving. We are far enough along in our lives and love to know this is it, this is what we want and we honor and respect that with every fiber of our being.

So I re-wrote this song, as if it had happened to Joanne and I and I gave it a happy ending this time, because I truly believe that we are all writing the story of our lives. Everyday we ad a page and those pages turn into chapters and all of that together is who we are. We are the stories we tell, we are all telling stories or writing songs.

The longer I live, the more I love happy endings.

Western Ways

Begging For Some Change

The Stalker

Rusty's FaceSomeone has been following me. “Chasing me”, would be more accurate. I caught him peeping around the corner at me again today. He is relentless. He has been lurking in the shadows way too long, hanging there in the background of my life. Truthfully it is quite creepy. I dread the day he catches up to me and exposes himself to do whatever it is he has in mind. Sometimes it is hard knowing I am being stalked, chased, followed.

I think he’s getting careless because I see him more and more often. Maybe he’s getting ready to pounce. He is pretty clever, this guy, he disguises himself like and old man. I tell you it is dreadful to see him there. When I catch him looking at me, it sends chills to my marrow. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m crazy when I tell you he’s been here for years, but he has, always there lurking, skulking and prowling through the chinks of my life, always getting braver and bolder. And I am not crazy, though I fear he may be.

You know, it’s been so many years, one would think I’d be getting used to him by now, and in some ways I am, but truthfully I can’t relax. He seems to be exposing himself to me more and more lately, not hiding so well like he used to, I think he senses that I am becoming numb to his presence.

I wonder will he chase me all the way to the grave, or will I shake him before we get that far? Truth is, I think he’s here to kill me. I am convinced I will go to my grave by his hand. One day he will sneak up on me and puts my lights out. I can’t shake the foreboding that covers me with cold confident goose flesh.

rusty in the grand canyonHe was here again first thing morning, I opened my eyes and there he was staring at me. I think he had been putting his hands on me, conjuring up a curse or something, because I tried to move, I felt sore and achy all over, the pain was intense. I felt as old as he looks, I felt pains so sharp that as a baby I would have been crying, as a young boy I would have screamed for my mommy, or as a young man in my twenties I would have stayed in bed and called in sick, but not me, not this man I am today, I got up, I cannot let him win. Not this morning or any morning. IT is scary that I am getting used to even his painful his trickery.

As hard as it was, I creaked cracked my way out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Suddenly there he was again, I saw him clearly this time. Gawd, I do believe he is getting uglier, he is certainly older! I could hardly stand to look at his wrinkled face. Was he ever handsome? I have my doubts. I see that it isn’t a disguise he really is old and wrinkled. It was hard to look at him. He always looks old first thing in the mornings, but he looked exceptionally old this morning.

This morning for some inexplicable reason, I met his gaze full on, something I rarely do, he just so much rip-rap in my life that I rarely look straight at him anymore, but this morning when he caught my eye, I was shocked to see that there is a resemblance in him to me. “Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, “I look like this old man!” I looked away. Oh surely not! Well maybe… I looked again… okay I do look a little like him, I guess, except… there is no way I am that old.

Rusty Cline 1958Then I did a second take and I realized he has done it. He has done what he came here to do. There in the twinkle of his eye, I saw the reflection of a boy. I know that boy, I thought. That is the boy I used to be. That made him smile, the belligerent old fart. And right there in his smile was the boy I knew so very intimately.

Now I know for sure, this old stalker has kidnapped that boy. I looked closer and saw he has even kidnapped the young man. More scrutiny revealed that he has even gotten to the middle aged man. I could see the middle aged man like a prisoner, kicking and screaming on the other side of the bars being dragged away by the guard disappearing into the shadows joining the stalker at last. The old man just kept staring and smiling, it was creepy I tell you and it still is, it is very creepy indeed.

It was then that I realized that the stalker won. This old man that’s been smoldering in the background of my life, has finally gobbled them up. All of the young men and the boys of my youth, gone by the hand this fiend. They are all gone, I mean gone without a trace, no resemblance left to who I used to be. All that is left is this old man and there he is staring at me like a greedy old wolf, like he wants something more. Like a wolf in the hen house with a thigh in one hand and a breast in the other as he screams, “I want one more piece!” I saw a ravenous hunger in his eye, and it was then that I knew for a certain, he is here to devour me as well, just like he did the boy, the teenager, the young man and the middle aged man. My blood ran cold. I began to panic.

Social Conscious CD by Rusty ClineI wished I could call the police, or hire a hit man, something. This is no longer the musings of a paranoid middle aged man, I no longer speculate, I know why he is here: He came to devour me, too! I wish I could out run him, but I can’t, his wretched curses have worked and I can no longer run fast. But then as suddenly as it appeared, the panic subsided. I turned off the light. I turned away from the mirror. I limped confidently toward the kitchen where I started another day. One more day of running from the hungry old wolf.

I know one day I will tire of his game, the chase will wear me down. I am already tired of playing wolf and sheep, me the sheep and him the wolf. Rusty BoogieOne day in the not to distant future, I will surprise him. I will turn and pounce on him. I think down deep he has forgotten a truth he has always known. The truth that I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He doesn’t know it yet, but one day I will take him. And oh what a great day that will be. I can’t wait to see his surprise, to look into his eyes in that moment, the moment he realizes his folly, the shock will be spectacular. You can bank on it dear reader.

I will make a spectacle of the event, when the stalker gets his just reward! It will be a grand day when the sheep takes the wolf!

So be careful old man, I know where you sleep!