Tim Barrus Blog
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What Their Parents Really Think
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I am a communist. CANDYMAN CANDYMAN CANDYMAN CANDYMAN CANDYMAN.
NO CIGAR.
I found the bike of my dreams in Dirt Bike Town. At first, he could not believe I was out there on this bike. He lit up a cigarette and smoked it. “I know you use peyote and I…
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landing in the dissassociative laundry basket of denial
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The Struggle Between the Moon, and the Moon, the Seas in Seas
THERE ARE IN MANY WAYS MANY THINGS THAT DID ATTRACT HIM, DESIRED HIM, TOO. EACH STEP IN CYNACISM. BETWEEN WHICH NOON AND NOON AND SEA IN SEAS. WAS A BRIDGE TOO FAR. A BRIDGE TOO FAR.
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Filled With Strange Dread That Sorrow Cannot Sleep
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Hector is dead. There is nothing more to say.
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Empty Tigers And The Sea
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An Ever-Wider Range of Phenomena
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I WOULD NOT HAVE GIVEN IT FOR A WILDERNESS OF TERRIORS
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U Win U Lose It Happens Even 2U
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Shirtless. Your tits rubbed raw by a relentless wind. And I will run over any snake in these woods on this old road that gets in the jesus way of my dirt bike. I do not look back. They say the snakes are good snakes because they mainly eat mice.…
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An Open Letter to Sona Patel
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An Open Letter to Sona Patel, Director, Community, New York Times
Thank you for allowing me to comment at NYT. Comments done right are hot. This is, too, exactly the kind of comment I am apt to make in the comment section of the New York Times. I confuse your…
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gasp it’s an outrage
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The New York Times has a gig on comments. I responded.
I am a communist. I get kicked off comments a lot. Then, I’m back, and then I’m off. The way the wind is blowing can imbue comments with immediacy. I am a hypocrite. Comments are the only choir I…
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In Sleep Like Snow Times Ten
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