As the autumn air crisps and the leaves turn to hues of gold and red, I think back to my childhood, when my grandfather would take me to the fishin’ hole and we’d laugh and bond over our special time together and whether we caught anything or not, it was always a good time because...
Author: Tim
Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.
His poetry has been published in various places, both in print and online, and he'd almost certainly be more specific than that if he were any fucking good at self promotion.
He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.
He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.
Satanic Swamp Ass
I’m sick, and I should either be in bed or writing an essay for my doctoral program, but I’ve just been through a mile of ICK and I’m sharing it with you. And of course, it all starts with Cooper, seen below looking guilty of something or other. We’ll get to that. So Coop is...
Life, Death, Anxiety (Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety…)
I really needed a break. I’m reading over my last post (from the end of last year), and I’m talking about wishing the years would stop having body counts, the fact that I hadn’t weighed myself in a few weeks, and my inexplicable new lust for chocolate. Even shit chocolate. I was also beating myself...
Weekly Check In – 12/29/2021
Two and a half years out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: ??? Some changes need to happen. I’m not counting the weeks out from surgery any more because fuck math, and because even if this was a baby – as opposed to my life – we’d have stopped counting the...
Weekly Check In – 12/1/2021
One hundred and twenty four weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 242 Up a pound. I’ve been getting by on a whole lot of “fuck it” lately. It’s not ideal, but I’m getting by, so fuck it. I’m a lot better than I was the last time I...
Weekly Check In – 11/17/2021
One hundred and twenty two weeks out from surgery, and this week I don’t particularly care what my weight is. This might get a little long, we’ll see. I’m writing this on Thursday the 11th Friday the 12th Saturday you know what, it took several fucking days to write this. It hasn’t been a great...