Tim Barrus Blog
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I Had Died an Hour Before
There is nothing serious about mortality.
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Literary Critics
We sell writers. Often, down the river. One book critic for NYT who reviewed one of my books (it was a rave) attempted to pour gasoline – what else – on my personal life. His students physically followed me around for years. We might not be the characters we create.…
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Comment Moderation is Uncivil
Censorship as an apex predator. The ideation of ideas. We are only allowed to think if exposed to an official archive. Google’s search engine and all those little boxes popping up to pull you into the rabbit hole. The New York Times is not social media. The New York Times…
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Jeep Sex
Dirt Bike Town and the Ha Ha
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Memphis and the Bluez
If I was your boyfriend. I have tried to photograph Memphis for decades. The bluez will slip secretly between your fingers. I am a failure as a writer, a lover of those jaded eyes, and I have failed Memphis as a subject. Failing Memphis is like failing love. It’s the…
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Bada Bing
[image-slideshow: fingerprint-]
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Incendiary Comments
Comments are not unlike Sumerian Literature. Figures embedded in clay. Or Egyptian hieroglyphics. In that these things tell the stories of the species.
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Putin Wants a Little Piece
We get up and go to work and we get up and go to work and we get up and go to work. What would Americans do if suddenly, Putin brings up the historical reality that Russians (Fort Ross) ruled California, therefore California was part of Russia, and deals or…
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Writers Should Plan Their Escape Now
If I was a journalist who wrote this, I would look for a quiet place where I might hide from the Night of the Long Knives. The Night of the Brown Shirts. The Night of the Executions. The Night of the Long March. The Night of Old Suitcases. The Night…
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window shopping