And the unutterable is still unutterable

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For those of you who don’t know, Rusty Armor is a nom-de-plume, a stage name, and a name that hides a huge gap in my life that I don’t talk about much.  Rusty Armor was a name I began using in the late 80’s, early 90’s to give me a little cover when I wrote of some living people I had met during my running years.  Some of those people are still living, though I suspect someone is changing their nappies at Sunny Hill Nursing Home right now.

Yeah, I really was a movie actor.  Not a well-known one, however.  But I have had a few speaking parts in films that I am sure many of you have at least heard about, if not actually seen.  But I despised Hollywood, and most of the actors I met.  I even despised my own talent, both at acting, and getting acting jobs.  Getting a job in films for me was a lot like working for Rent-A-Bum, except the pay was a lot better and they usually fed you on the set.  You sat around in the shade a lot, too.  It sure as hell beat unloading boxcars.

But I did a lot of other things during that hole in my life.  Fleeing after a disastrous marriage breakup, I just drifted … it was a real fast drift, however.  I lived in the desert with a Yaqui brujo, drilled oil in Wyoming, work carnival flat joints and rides, picked peaches in California, narrowly escaping a serial killer that ran crews while there, bartended in Reno and hopped freight trains to get around.

I ended back in New Mexico, lived on a commune, met some of the Manson family, hung with a few well known writers, a very famous poet and musician and some assorted writers, but finally ended up in the third floor of a run down home haven for homeless men one mean February in Denver.  I don’t even know how I got there.  My life changed at that point, and that is another tale, one without so damned many secrets.

I was going to try and flesh out that time before here, but once again, there are too many things that I just don’t want to reveal, and I don’t want to spend the time working around them without leaving questions.

But for those who think that I am just some old burned out Texan, I hate to destroy that illusion. I kinda like that image, though it is a bullshit one.

And once again, I am not able to utter the unutterable.

Crap.

5 thoughts on “And the unutterable is still unutterable

    Lia Storm said:
    December 26, 2018 at 7:47 pm

    I read enough bits and pieces to know you are just not some burnt out Texan. I would have loved to hear the stories (true stories) but I also understand that you just can’t write them. You surely have led an interesting life, but you know I would think you just as interesting if you had not. I enjoy reading about your day to day life just as it is ❤

      Rusty Armor responded:
      December 26, 2018 at 8:06 pm

      I hope to write it some day … who knows …

      Boo said:
      December 27, 2018 at 9:03 am

      Lets you and me go to Texas and visit……..*bring whiskey*

    rivergirl1211 said:
    December 27, 2018 at 5:38 am

    Well, thank you very much. I am now totally intrigued and leaving unsatisfied! You’re such a tease…
    😉

    Dana Everhart said:
    December 27, 2018 at 8:07 am

    burnt out Texans are better than the young ones….

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