Tim Barrus Blog
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
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They have done it again. The New York Times does sometimes go with something I might have commented on. As usual, it’s about who I am. I find that there is a spark of tittillation in it, but whose, and why. I do not want to know why. I’m autistic.…
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Tim Barrus: The New York Times
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I do not know why the New York Times is. I have nothing in common with suits. But I do know how to make them fucking cry. I have to brace myself if I see the thing. Usually, it makes me vomit. I do not know why I do this.
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Tim Barrus: Why Am I Being Internet-Stalked By People in North Carolina
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Why am I being stalked. Google Analytics tells me in no uncertain terms, that I am being stalked. It gives me the creeps. I sleep with a nug, sawed off 12g. I know how to use the thing. Do not trespass. Leave me alone. There will be consequences. I am…
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Tim Barrus: Chaos Has Come Again
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As proof of lonely drifting, a swallowing of glass. But dawn and time will kill us all because is dawn is time and we are in it.
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Tim Barrus: Treason Has Done Its Very Worst.
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After life and its fitful fever sleeps too well, reason has done its worst, nor steel, nor poison, will cause his domesticity to tear the pieces of his second selves that hang from trees not loud but deep in the hanging of the whole wide world, a pause, a hope…
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Tim Barrus: I Don’t Always Wear a Helmet I Have Been Driving Dirt Bikes Since 1962 And No Accidents No Helmet Means I Can Get Away With It
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Spilling from their numbers, their throats were their throats. The swallowing. The wisdom of the fools has no secrets having been limited to blood at first, and then a tongue in my mouth is to sweets as a special name day, but as pictures, the moon is down, and it…
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Tim Barrus: But the Pictures of Us Provoked a Dark Desire
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We would jump the night to come. It meant travelling ahead in time. The tendency towards a state of equilibrium is entropy. The entropy of a system will always increase as systems unwind, cool down, wear out. Thermodynamics. Statisitical inevitability.
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Tim Barrus: The Jack of Clubs
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Homo Sapiens have within them the last rattle but it’s nothing like the one a snake might have.
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Tim Barrus: Dirt Bike Town
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Dirt Bike Town and jambalaya. So, in a voice, I became someone else. The afterlife of art as someone else’s lips. I am ambivalent that achievement is achievement. His tongue is in your mouth. No one is unique because no one can be. My answer to just about everything is…
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Tim Barrus: Give Me The Daggers The Witchcraft Of Boys Seems Dead And Whose Dreams A Demon’s Face The Moon Is In Repose
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Desire is another sleep’s oblivion.