Tim Barrus Blog

  1. Tim Barrus: You Numberless Infinities

    How now, you secret, bones and shadows, do you explain such explicit nerves as having never trembled.

  2. Tim Barrus, New York Times

    It seems like everyday, I am simply picking up the pieces of systems that no longer work. You could put capitalism in that existential group. I am a communist. It is always amusing to stand on the sidelines and watch capitalism twist in the wind even as it implodes. Then,

  3. TIM BARRUS: BACK THEN, WE JUST BROKE THE GLASS TO GET THE BIKE. TODAY, WE WOULD BREAK THE GLASS TO STEAL THE BIKE.

    I know my thieves. They are like knowing Beethoven on any car radio or the smells of opening the doors to a grocery store you have never been in before. Thieves are like potatoes. They never fuck in church. That I know of.

  4. Tim Barrus: What People Want To Believe Is Not My Fucking Problem. You Never Listen. You Just Go Off And Do Your Own Stuff.

    No one writes about outrage. Not from the Inside Out. Outrage that is giving birth, and there it was. Everyone staring. Writers are timid and fearful. They want to win awards, have big sales, offend no one. I offend everyone. That is just how it is.

  5. Tim Barrus: Done Like Lightning

    One thing. From death. A numberless infinity of land and death and food and water and light and all time tread upon a woods so distinctly wrought, you have the men, you just don’t have the right men.  

  6. Tim Barrus: I Learned 2 Partaay

    You. Are. Crumbled out again.  

  7. Tim Barrus: But What the Fuck Does It Mean


  8. Tim Barrus: I Didn’t Mean You

    TIM BARRUS: THIS WAS US BUT IT WAS NOT US YEAH IT WAS REALLY US AND RUN WE WERE KINDA LIKE THE CRIMINALS WE MADE FUN OF BUT WE DID HAVE A SMALL FOLLOWING OF NEITHER FONES OR FONES. SUE ME. I FUCKING DIDN’T MEAN YOU I DIDN’T MEAN YOU.

  9. Tim Barrus: Now We Can Get Some Of These Streets Cleaned of Riff Raff

    I am a communist. I live in the Blue Ridge of Appalachia. I am not liked here much. I write about the South a lot. It feels like holding a vial of Confederate blood and dropping it. Blood is at the bottom of everything in the South. It’s gender. It’s

  10. TIM BARRUS: NYT PIECE ON YOUR MOUTH WILL TURN TO DUST

    Dirt Bike Town could not exist any old where. There has to be a clairity that deliniates between the good and the bad. Us and them. They are the them. We are the us. I do not come down the mountain on my dirt bike all that much. It’s fucking…