Author: Tim

  • Better than that.

    The man in my dream looked a lot like me but apparently his crimes were so serious they warranted the death penalty.When I compare what I have to that dream being, I am wealthy.There he sits, in waiting, ordered executed by the state.Both of us borrow breath from the world, but mine come with relative…

  • Stop lights.

    They’re off to points unknown. As they move about in their daily dramas, they hasten a decaying.The price is unknown but the value comes in red and green.Bright lights to indicate how much time should be traded for the privilege of driving.What could be so important?

  • My great fortune.

    Today is a quiet day, save for the welcome, rhythmic tapping of rain on the sill.Steady showers put me in a mind of gratitude.As I see the rain, I see the world spring to life in response.The dry time has ended, if momentarily.It reminds me how desperately the West needs this life-giving bounty we are…

  • Gainful unemployment.

    I have stumbled upon a phrase that took hold in my mind earlier this morning, the concept of “Gainful unemployment”. The known saying is to describe someone as being gainfully employed. This would describe someone who has taken a traditional 9-5 job and is, by some measure, a productive part of society. I am gainfully…

  • Now what?

    Being gainfully unemployed gives a person a blank slate nearly every day to work with. I find myself staring at this blank slate today and feel the need to do something. It seems that my ability to come to a complete stop doesn’t exist. The beauty of my place in life is that whatever I…

  • A familiar calling.

    I can feel myself being tugged in the direction of picking up some drum sticks again. My hands have been tapping rudiments without much conscious effort and I want there to be more noise when I do it. As always, issues of logistics arise. Unlike most hobbies/passions, drums take up physical space and practice is…

  • Relief, if brief.

    Cleared out some more of the debris from a past life yesterday and with it, a sense of relief for the bargain. I still feel shackled to that old life, but minimally so. It makes me wonder what complete freedom from it will look like, as I’ve yet to feel it. Every progress forward includes…

  • Pre-mourning.

    There are some people that take years to orchestrate their death in the most elaborate fashion imaginable. This happens to be the path someone very close to me is on. A nearly endless battle against addiction has run the body ragged and I suspect we will lose him sooner than later. The clinical diagnosis handed…

  • Writing some wrongs.

    For whatever reason, my brain is completely awake at 4:00 A.M. and compelling me to spill whatever comes to mind on here. There is no subject matter driving this deluge, just pure word soup. Now a game of definitions, since my mind seems dead set on me reminding myself: sophists. What is a sophist? Off…

  • From relative safety.

    The last post made was a lashing out that needed to be done. It was cathartic and it was easy because it comes from a position of relative safety. But it was a treatise for anyone and everyone who can’t speak from the safety I occupy. Being a straight, white, man gives me incredible insulation.…