Busy as fuck, which is the last time I’ll be saying that since that’s now been the norm for the better part of the last four years.

Out of school for the moment.  Got an A, because I’m smarter than Zeus.

We’re ass-deep into opening up our bakery and we get the news that the city wants to charge us twelve fucking thousand dollars for the permit (THE PERMIT) for all the work we’re doing to the plumbing.  Can’t not pay it.  Can’t argue it.  Can bend over a barrel and take it up the ass.  Fucking vampires.  Urge to kill extremely high.

Went to Kansas / Missouri a couple weeks back.  Was shocked by how beautiful it was.  And the people rocked.  Everyone was nice as hell for no reason other than the sake of being nice.  I really enjoyed that.  If only they had an ocean on one of their borders…oh well.

Going to Laughlin tonight.  Coming back from Laughlin tomorrow night.  Sunday will be spent rocking back and forth and crying.


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 MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

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.

Tagged with: , ,