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Rusden Scott

@roozden_scoot

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January 19th was the fourth anniversary of being married to my Rusden 💗 I love him. That’s all by @roozden_scoot

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2 years ago

There inevitably comes into the life of certain women, a time when the number of bones she has ceases to be sufficient. No one can say exactly why this is--though most bone scholars agree it goes all the way back to old Eve, the rib-cum-woman and original bone-coveter--but the standard 206 bones in the human body just stops being enough. For most the change is gradual--it might start with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction with the clavical, or a bewildering pang of jealousy while watching the family hound gnaw a bone on the rug--while others simply wake up one morning with the full and terrible knowledge that they NEED. TO HAVE. MORE BONES. But however it begins, the bone yearning leads down a path that inevitably ends in obsessively counting and recounting one's vertebrae while muttering, "it's too FEW, damnit, FAR too few". Some women take solace in paleontology or turn to bone reading to slake the bonethirst, others simply pray the osteomania passes quickly. For a few women, none of this is enough.

For Camilla, the calcium yearn came on early and strong. When we started dating, she always brought her "bone-grabber" (trash picker) on hikes and our houseguests are often encouraged to play Count the Skulls in our front room (rookies forget to count their own skulls). But that wasn't enough. This year, inshallah, she'll release her excellent graphic novel which is chock full o' skeletons. But that's not enough. A few months ago she 3D printed her own actual life-size skull from an MRI scan, but THAT WASN'T ENOUGH. Her Bone Identity had become a Bone Supremacy, and eventually she delivered me the Bone Ultimatum: more bones or else, and she wasn't going to settle for a sheep skull or racoon pelvis this time.

So we took a chance, rolled the bones, and I'm happy to report that we have successfully DOUBLED the number of bones in Camilla's body. I'm talking two craniums, two pelvi, four humeruses, two full cages of ribs, not five, not ten, but twenty phalanges and a virtual ossuary of metatarsals. It's Bone O'Clock in the Bone Zone and I'm the Bone Ranger!

Oh, and it's gonna be a boy 🙂 by @roozden_scoot

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2 years ago

I’ve started this post a dozen times, but until now I couldn’t post it because that would mean logging onto social media, and I haven’t done that since the pandemic started. But I’m in Stockholm, and it’s cold, and the only thing I can think about is the subject of this post, so I’m finally going to tell you about my wife.

When I first met her, she was telling fortunes at an art show. Her art show. She refused to tell mine, partly because it was near to midnight and her voice was giving out, but I like to think it was mainly because she would have divined that we were destined to end up together, which would have taken a lot of the mystique out of the next few years. So thanks for the solid, Norns or whatever.

Honestly, neither of us would have believed it anyway. We had each sworn solemn, non-negotiable oaths to ourselves that we wouldn't date the kind of person that the other one was. It was a total non-starter, but that didn’t keep me from being intrigued as hell about her, or from joining her art cult. A desert prophet with a vision, she was self-assured and self-made, disarmingly gregarious and undeniably magnetic, with just enough wide-eyed naïveté showing through to keep her towering intellect and massive talent from being too intimidating. Her passion was infectious, her self-aware moodiness authentic and endearing.

It took a fated trip to Santa Fe for us to read the writing on the wall. Just in the nick of time, too. The Covid shutdown happened the day after we got back (and got together).

Since then, my life has been deliciously complicated. I had never dated anyone like Camilla (oh yeah, that’s her name). She met needs that I didn’t know existed; understood me in ways I hadn’t realized were possible. She was a genius, and a weirdo, and more than anything she was GOOD. Like, in her heart. Like, deep down. Like, in a way that when you realize how deep it goes it makes you worry that your own goodness is fledgling and aspirational while hers is root-deep and real. In short: I’d met my match. I proposed to the end credits of the Wicker Man and we had a tiny Covid wedding in January 2021.
Photos by @louiseppelphotography and @alyssasorensonphoto taken in Stockholm, Sweden by @roozden_scoot

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2 years ago

One small NICE for man, one giant NICE for mankind taken in NASA's John F. Kennedy Space Center by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

whoa taken in OH MAN by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

this is a raw, unpublished snapshot of the lowest point of my 40 days of eating only beans, shared on the eve of my completion of the challenge. by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

I'm going to interrupt the bean coverage for just a moment to share some exciting news from the incredibly talented @camillagluh. I've read the graphic novel all the way through and you do NOT want to sleep on this, so sign up for the email list like yesterday.
• • • • • •

As some of you know...I've spent the past year working on a 120-page graphic novel about a disillusioned apocalyptic prophet in search of the Desert God. I am currently drawing & inking the final draft of the novel and I hope to have it finished by early 2021.
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If you're interested....I made a mailing list so you can sign up to be notified by email when I start taking pre-orders :) Link in bio ✨🌙 by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

Day 18: Bean Goofus leaves his empties around the house where they incubate mold. Bean Gallant washes and recycles his bean cans weekly to minimize his impact on the environment.
#40daysofbeans by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

It's day 16. I've been pretty quiet about FORTY DAYS OF BEANS on social media so far, as my body and mind adjust to their legumous fate. Not that the BeanQuest itself has been quiet, ofc. Let's don't beat around the bush here, I'm talking about gas. Great, harrumphing bean blasts that seem to rend the very air. Personally, I don't love it or hate it, it simply is, but my girlfriend could use your prayers. Thankfully, blessedly, the fact that I'm not eating meat or dairy means that my tinny toots are pretty inoffensive from an olfactory standpoint, but it can't be easy to be with a man who constantly sounds like a balloon animal asking a question. I'm sorry my first post in 15 days had to be about this, but I promise it's the first and last time I'll mention it. God bless.
#beans #40daysofbeans by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

40 Days of Beans, Day 3️⃣: 10 kinds of beans in 120 cans. In an act of auto-cruelty, I took the labels off and mixed them up, so I never know that kind of bean I'll be eating when I open a can.
Today's menu lotto: Pinto, black, pinto.
Mood: All over the place, but generally high by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

It's about time... by @roozden_scoot

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6 years ago

In the desert we found a jaw taken in Virgin, Utah by @roozden_scoot

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