Tim Barrus Blog
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tim barrus: the rich have nothing to fear
He Will To His Egyptian Beds of Undone Silver Be Enough To Break Our Way Toward Hope’s Wearing Of The Harness On His Back Of Promises Now Undone Now Undone
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Tim Barrus: New York Times
“Get in line, you Stupid Fuck.” I hated this teacher. “You a homo.” “I’m in advanced math.” I like to throw stuff back into their patriarchal faces. I had enough patriarchal abuse to deal with. I don’t have to take being slapped around. By anyone. I stole a hunting knife.…
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Tim Barrus: Interstellar Travelers, Rogue Planets
You can’t talk to the dead because they want to be alone. I am deranged. Absurd. Ridiculous. What the living do not understand (they should hear themselves) is that the dead talk back. My biggest challenge in life is to simply survive. From one moment to the next. Survival is…
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Tim Barrus: Such Is Our Dirt Bike Town
We stole a new motorcycle. I should probably say I stole a new motorcycle. I can steal any kind of vehicle I want. Anyone who can hack any network of computers can hack a vehicle. I can do it from the other side of town. “We could just say we…
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Tim Barrus: The Laws of Physics Do Not Require A Cop With a Gun There Must Be Another Way 2 Run a Railroad
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Tim Barus: The Small Zone Of What Is Real
The New York Times has published a piece called What Is Death. Everyone loved it because Grandmom could die in the nursing home in a terrified ball of folded flesh, and it was okay to not feel jack shit about anything. You were not there. We are animals who prize…
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Tim Barrus: A Prism In the Path
Putting a prism in the path of sunbeam demonstrates conclusively that surface rocks near impact zones can get thrust upward and thrust upward and thrust upward with enough speed to escape the body’s gravitational tether.
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Tim Barrus: U Catch It U Reel It In
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Tim Barrus: The Speed of It
Maybe here and there. In fragments. To Indigo Dust. In a glass museum case. I am finally a museum. It all comes like flashes are some sorrow’s end. Seas in seas. You will not believe any of this, especially the dark stuff, everyone wants to cling to hope, but hope…
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Tim Barrus: Angels Are Never Real