Salvages
for Thomas John Rutz
A man walks past a building destroyed by a Russian rocket attack in Kyiv, Ukraine, Feb. 25, 2022.
Ripley and AI, same bullshit.
There’s an answer to a question I know I share with my sister — and share the same hesitation when answering: How many siblings do you have? “One,” we say, feeling the loss even as we say it.
Things come full circle.
I recently passed two milestones as a father: teaching my son to shave, and watching “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” together.
In my dream, there were horses on the rooftop in a snow blind storm, and we drove by and my mother jumped from the car to keep them from falling, and I had to search for her in the snow miles back.
No one asks the willow its thesis.
Baby lion, RIP.
“All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope.” — Winston Churchill
Looking back on it I think it captures his gentleness and fierceness perfectly.
His wife—a truly beautiful artist—used to call him by the nickname Baby lion.
Where the human voice matters.
“Even the clumsiest frankness is preferable to the best-orchestrated ruse.” — Albert Camus
That's the fucking truth.
What if you could make the world from scratch? What color would you make the grass?
I’d make the grass green. I’d make the trees talk.
What would they say?
“It’s nice to have nothing.”
TFP IS A PROUD MEMBER OF THE IOWA WRITERS COLLABORATIVE
this is is great, just great.
I quite loved this piece, which I'd put into the "writing to stave off losing your f*cking mind during times of fascism" category.