Dust, Rust, & the Sifting Sand Blues

Dust, Rust, & the Sifting Sand Blues

"It’s not about losing; it’s about the sovereign act of starting again."

This visual album is a 26-year "blues scheme" finally brought to life. I first built these dreams in a sandbox back in 2000, but it took two decades of sifting through the dust of the river and the rust of the city to truly hear the melody.

The Map of the Metaphors:

• The Sandbox: Where we first learn that chrome can bend and hearts can get worn.

• The Dust Cloud: The moment at seventeen when the "straight line" of fate breaks, leaving us standing in our own skin.

• The Palomino Neon: A tribute to the friendly, wild, eclectic spirit of North Hollywood. It is the "midnight show" where we find our power by walking our own damn way.

• The Sifting Sand: Sitting by the ocean today, sifting memories. The tide does not wash the past away, it honors it, making us strong enough to rise again.

A Note to the Literal-Minded:

In the Outstages Cafe, we do not deal in 2D explanations or fear-based literalism. These visuals are monuments, not monsters. If you see "creatures," look again you are just seeing the weathered architecture of a life lived out loud.

About the Artist: Vicki Trusselli & the Outstages Cafe

I started using computers in 1981, but I have been an artist, author, and lyricist for much longer than that. My creative journey has taken me through the nursing halls, journalism rooms, and the high-energy "midnight shows" of the L.A. and Austin film and music industries.

The Outstages Cafe Art Studio is my digital sandbox where my deep contralto voice meets the grit of the desert and the neon flicker of old Hollywood memories like the legendary Palomino Club. I do not believe in "2D" art or literal explanations; I prefer the mythic resonance of a metaphor. Whether I am sifting through sand on the Santa Monica shore or animating a "dust cloud" from a 26-year-old memory, my work is about the sovereign act of starting again.

In my world, the blues is not about losing, it is about the strength we find when we realize that even though "chrome can bend," the tide always rises again.

Director’s Statement: Dust, Rust, & the Sifting Sand Blues

The Vision

This is not a song about childhood; it is a song about the architecture of a soul. I built these dreams in a sandbox back in 2000, but it took two decades of sifting through the "dust" of the desert and the "rust" of the city to truly hear the melody.

Metaphors

• The Sandbox: It is our first encounter with the world where we learn that "chrome can bend" and that even the smallest hands must deal with heavy "Tonka truck" energy.

• The River & The Dust Cloud: At seventeen, we think life is a "straight line," but the blues is the dust cloud that settles after that line breaks. It is not about losing; it is about the sovereign act of starting again.

• The Palomino Neon: A tribute to the friendly, wild, and eclectic spirit of the North Hollywood years. It is where the "midnight show" of our lives happens where we learn our power by walking our own damn way.

• The Sifting Sand: By the time we reach the ocean, we are not just sifting sand; we are sifting memories. The tide does not wash the past away, it honors it, making us stronger so we can rise again.

A Note on the Content

To those who see "creatures" or "fears" in my visuals: look closer at the grain of the sand. These are not monsters; they are the weathered monuments of a life lived aloud. I prefer the depth of a metaphor to the boredom of a literal explanation. In the Outstages Cafe, we do not hide the gravel; we sing about how it feels.

The Full Title & Subtitle:

Main Title: Dust, Rust, & the Sifting Sand Blues Subtitle: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Dust, rust, & the Sifting Sand Blues

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

I built my dreams in a sandbox, siftin’ time through my hands,

Had a little red racer, thought love was easy to understand.

But a boy with a Tonka truck rolled in, loud as a summer storm,

Taught me early, sugar, how a soft heart gets worn.

"I had a little red racer, shiny and fast,

Thought a sandbox love built to last.

But he rolled in hot with a Tonka truck wheel,

Taught me early on how the gravel feels...

Yeah, I learned too soon that chrome can bend,

And a sandbox road has a bitter end."

Seventeen by the river, thought the world was finally mine,

Ridin’ shotgun in a red pickup, thinkin’ fate was a straight line.

But he drove off like a dust cloud, left me standin’ in my own skin,

And I learned the blues ain’t about losin’ it is about startin’ again.

Hollywood neon flickered, red wine, and Palomino lights burnin’ low,

Saw that same old curly‑headed trouble, puttin’ on his midnight show.

I walked out with my dignity, left his lies in the barroom haze,

’Cause a woman learns her power when she walks her own damn way.

"I had a little red racer, shiny and fast,

Thought a sandbox love built to last.

But he rolled in hot with a Tonka truck wheel,

Taught me early on how the gravel feels...

Now I am sifting through the dust and the rust,

Looking for a heart I can actually trust."

Now I sit by the ocean, lettin’ the tide wash the past away,

Siftin’ sand like old memories, hearin’ blues in the undertones.

I whisper to the waves, “He loves me, he loves me not,” with a grin,

’Cause the sandbox made me stronger and I will rise like the tide again.

"I had a little red racer, shiny and fast,

Thought a sandbox love built to last.

But he rolled in hot with a Tonka truck wheel,

Taught me early on how the gravel feels."

written by

Vicki Lawana Trusselli

Trusselli Art

Outstages Cafe Art Studio

California

copyright 2026