[final edit].


Dear Readers,

Perhaps I have been conspicuously absent; perhaps unnoticeably so.

Whichever the case, this comes to you by way of mourning.

I mourn the death of my mother. My father. Relationships from childhood. My loves. And, missed opportunities. Apparently, when one never grieves such losses, the pain compounds within.

As a result of this complex anguish, my attempts at healthy relationships with others have been unsuccessful. Some of you reading this may have been the victims of these failures; if you recognize yourself among them, I offer you my deepest apologies.

Most recently, and most acutely, I have been grieving the loss of my identity as a writer in this blog. Believing the ideas expressed to have been pilfered by trolling parasites, the ensuing aversion has been total; I no longer have any desire to share my creative self in print with strangers, whose motives might be completely self-serving in the reading.

So, after completing this declaration, I will likely cease entering posts in this blog for as long as it takes to finish mourning. In the meantime, cheaters and thieves will submit for thesis, and publish, and tour their books, and sign every copy, and compose their scenarios, and market their contraband, and make all the big headlines; such charade parades have happened before, and will certainly pass by, again. With cymbals.

But, I have so many loves to remember; to forgive; to thank; and, to bid goodbye. I must carry on, and so must you. Just, please; do so with your very best selves. Condemn all the corrupt spirits that prey upon you with their lusts for power or prestige.

Nobody worthy among them is looking. Really. Nobody good is listening. To yourselves be absolutely true; then, just walk away.

Yours in earnest,



© Ruth Ann Scanzillo 12/21/15  All rights always were those of this author.









10 thoughts on “Mourning.

  1. You’ll be back to terminate them, RAS. And when you do, it will be one minute after holy hell is unleashed on the vulgar bodies who have committed this travesty. It is so. Write that post, RAS. Write those craven fools into a dark, gothic future. xo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, SB, your convictions are far more fierce and convinced than mine could hope to be. I’ll never be able to prove any of this, and they of the foolish craven know it. But, having your heart is worth the whole smelling hell of it, in endless refrain. Message me, pls.XOO RAS

      Liked by 1 person

  2. “Au contraire” We are all worthy, all of us!

    I certainly have missed you!

    I’m going to miss you more if you’re gone long, Write some more and unpound your pains, feed us with your love ❤

    I absolutely love to read your blogs, you explain things so well its like being in the room with you.

    I am genuinely sorry now, so I'm going into mourning too 😦

    You are very curious! XX 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You know, OF, I wrote this off in one draft at, what, 3am EST? and, it lacked one, significant edit- ! (Perhaps my own, measly Freudian slip) But, in the re-read, you will see that I never intended to condemn you, or any of the friends made in this comment thread. In fact, you are more than worthy, both in the writing and the making of fascinating images, and in the depth of your own reflections.Email me! Hugs and all that RAS

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Ruthie, here’s how it works. Ghost writers troll blogs. They are searching not for specific pieces of completed work, but ideas, chunks of written material, or even certain formats. They lift the CONCEPT, not the piece, and steal the idea. When the originator of the idea, and its treatment, hopes to publish, somebody else has essentially “gotten there first.” They steal the creative stamp, and get away with it because nobody can ever prove anything. They are real leeches, in the business of marketing to would-be celebrities or fading stars, those who pay them to do the very thing. It’s a whole industry of pilfering. And, we bloggers – we are their unwitting slaves. My only comfort is that my script and several scenarios are copyrighted at the Library of Congress, but one wonders if even that is any protection.


  3. P.s. Thanks to the inveterate encouragement of the brilliant and exquisite Sabiscuit, it only took me four days to get back into the water. But, the grieving is ever at the fore; a good ice storm should put a tight cap on it, for once.


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