Tim Barrus Blog

  1. SKIES AND SKIES

    The sunrise of the animals and whose human tongue of languages we tell the dream stories not unlike a silver chevrolet outruns the cops playing let us just stand here with our cocks in our hands whose ceramic bones are shattered at the ends of skies and skies. One of…

  2. THERE ARE ALWAYS REASONS

  3. What Extinction: Tim Barrus NYT

    Our extinction. Writers are always telling me that we must all be hopeful. Are you fucking kidding me. The environment was destroyed a long time ago. There is nothing left to save. I have given up. On humanity. We are, in fact,  Australopithecines. Homo sapiens are so smart, so brilliant,…

  4. That Brief Moment of Terrified Truth

    And there it is. Maybe, you have let this go on too long. You have definitely let this go on too long. This trick wants to fuck you in the ass. Maybe, you could run. Running has all kinds of problems as a plan. It is not a plan. You…

  5. Tim Barrus, New York Times

    I grab nostalgia in a death grip. I slam it in my writing. I have no choice. When I’m not writing, I go mad. When I am not involved with photography, I go mad. When I don’t have either one, I shut down. I rock. I become catatonic. Nostalgia is…

  6. YouCannot AlwaysHave AReason

  7. Mojave Motel

    I never knew him to not be armed. Heavily armed. His “the Life” guns were the Big Girl guns that were always on sale if you wanted to go that high which was kind of ridiculus because now you were in the territory where this shit was kept that could…

  8. Little Baby

  9. The Woods Of Us

    We had no empathy, no connection, no way to say to the men who raped us: “You raped us.” We only had rage for the women who enabled it. It was like walking around naked with ankle shackles. Why. I know all the serious theories. I know the psych profiles.…

  10. Tim Barrus, New York Times

    NOW, YOU KNOW You did not know until he came over — you hadn’t seen him in months — that it had been all about his tits. You did not know you could still ejaculate. Now, you know. No one ever leaves, and returns, to find the place you left.…
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