Tim Barrus Blog
Posts tagged with identity
-
The Writing Life – NYT
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/20/podcasts/the-daily/tony-tulathimutte-feminist.html#permid=136977606 Take notes. There is no such thing as identity. Identity is a cultural concept of the self at war with society. I have had many windmills in my life. Those things we shake our swords at. What comes around, goes around. I lied. I said I was someone (I…
-
Consciousness and Identity
Consciousness is suffering. Some of us are fully conscious of who we are. Identity is an outside (your body) affiliation with other creatures of your kind. You are who they say you are. This is community. An agreement that we are unique and you are a part of us, and…
-
ASPERGERS
Identity is a romance. You are not who you say you are. No one is. Shapeshifters. Do. Not. Touch. Me.
-
Tim Barrus: Incendiary Comments NYT
Been there. One drove a cab. One was a maid in a hotel who never went to work because we were more fun to hang out with. The All Too Usual Question is inevitably What If Someone Gets Jealous. Someone will get jealous. I’m thinking the nuances here all have…
-
I Stole the Camera
I did not know the neighborhood. It was more a village than a town. 3 traffic lights. We will stone you, too. Most of my friends wound up at the wire factory. Where they all became beaten men. Forgotten men. Blue veinsd across your forehead. The identity of a stoop.…
-
This Is Over Pixalated 4 A Reason
Race and Desire I love people who dance just because. No one told them they could not do it. Race and desire. It kinda takes some of the hurt part out of it, the part where Race and Desire get along. Sex is, too, a politikal le act. A politikal…
-
Tim Barrus, New York Times
TIM BARRUS, NEW YORK TIMES Mistakes. Happen. Metaphors. Happen. Judgement calls. Happen. Metaphors are added to anecdotal evidence. Copy editors everywhere at any publication will squint and ponder if a metaphor is appropriate. Their eyes to the sky. My eyes, too. I have had endings to my books redrawn and…
-
On Identity
This has explosive reamifications to a culture where identity itself is set in stone, cannot be moved, and defines you until the day you die, and even then, you are nothing more than quantum matter coming into focus and then out again. The human being itself playing the part of…
-
The Great Suspension of Disbelief
We die alone. What of it. We eat we fuck we joke we play we piss we hate we sing we dance we drink we smoke we tell stories we shit we run we race we love. We try to stay alive. We fail a lot. Whelps. Kingdom of the…
-
For Anna
we tried shocking people out of the religious family and tribal rituals (like christmas or the 4th) of complacency, but we mainly failed/ we do know we failed/ we are not stupid people/ skin gigs exist all over the planet/ we wanted to be someone we were not/ identity was…
-
Where Your Eyes Were
these openings, these candles in the eyes whose sockets saw desire, these and then forgiveness/ what you were was hunted down/ yielding in release, we smile in the dark knowing our names are not our names/ they are simply the names given to us, in rooms of loneliness, we would…
-
Whose Grip Undid the Screws
i fuck around a lot with the idea of identity, it’s like pissing on a sacred cow while the village sleeps and dreams of simple things/ grey as pain, the rules upon which reality itself is guarded by the armies of the roots whose consummate butchery has wrenched the doors…
-
I Opened My Eyes
When Is Cultural Approbation Survival I still get death threats. Death threats are stupid, and stupid people make them. Bring it on, bitch.I opened my eyes. A small group of people in scrubs were looking down at me and they were uniformly grim. Obviously, this was a hospital. Tubes. Beeps.…
-
Identity: Are We What We Do
Is the whore hitchhiking to go somewhere or is there an assumption a whore is a whore is a whore. Is there anyone who doesn’t think this boy with his thumb out is not a whore. Or does my merely suggesting it color what you think you see. There but…
-
Tricks and Trees
walking through the hemlock night what hangs by threads and the in between/ tailworn more dead than alive doUgotit doUgotit doUgotit/// the hinges and the drop dead year the night had arms and the trees of fear scratched chicken claw scratches on the scrabble ground gathers up the glasses of…