Tell God I Don’t Exist by Timmy Reed


                ‘Tell God I Don’t Exist’ seems like a good thing to tell God. Timmy Reed knows how to really get his message across to God. Reed enjoys using gentle surreal flourishes to arrive at a greater truth. Animals feature prominently in almost every story. Unlike pets where the relationship is exploitative and possession-based, Reed avoids outright ownership. He observes these creatures. Whether it is a mermaid or a microscopic creature that’s been shot up to space, Reed cares about the creatures. All he wants is to protect the world from the world. Yes it is a hopeless task but Reed has a surprisingly large amount of hope for the future. 

                Stories in here get extremely short. A few are less than a page, flash fiction, a mere idea. Yet these are some beautiful pieces. By far one of the most touching is the beginning story ‘Earth was a Living Thing’. Here Reed places his optimism into a creature that’s not quite a creature. Concerns are projected onto the Earth. Features more typical of a person are displayed throughout these stories. Crying spider mommas, imagined tigers, even mermaids possess human characteristics. 

                Water is another major characteristic. Every story has at least a little bit of water, whether for rain or going down a colorful river. The water washes away a lot of worries. Spiders get the hose. Mermaids find a way to return back to their home. And fishing trips manage to bore Reed so much that he’s willing to leave his comfort zone for the radical unknown. In fact often Reed thinks of having more exciting events. He’s trying to break through to reach out to creatures by trying to rescue them in some way, whether they are moles or tigers. 

                This is a funny book. Some of the lines are so positively bizarre that it is hard to comprehend. Generally these moments are buried deep within the story. Rather than work as a ‘throw-away’ line they illustrate the general weirdness of the situation. Residing inside someone’s ear is just one example. Licking a road that’s nothing but drugs is another. Finally there’s the list of what should potentially be done with a fictitious vomiting creature. His experience with the turtle is particularly charming where he walks very slowly in order for the turtle to follow behind him.
                If Aesop’s fables ever decided to get weird, really weird, they’d look a lot like ‘Tell God I Don’t Exist’. These are the sorts of things that cope with life’s smaller problems, from an extremely personal point of view. Lacking dialogue the attention is paid to the individual’s response to a situation. Other people are mentioned mostly in passing. Rarely is there another character this is an extremely individualistic collection of works. When another character is introduced they are typically sympathetic, almost taking pity on the poor pathetic protagonist.

Tell God I Don’t Exist by Timmy Reed

                ‘Tell God I Don’t Exist’ seems like a good thing to tell God. Timmy Reed knows how to really get his message across to God. Reed enjoys using gentle surreal flourishes to arrive at a greater truth. Animals feature prominently in almost every story. Unlike pets where the relationship is exploitative and possession-based, Reed avoids outright ownership. He observes these creatures. Whether it is a mermaid or a microscopic creature that’s been shot up to space, Reed cares about the creatures. All he wants is to protect the world from the world. Yes it is a hopeless task but Reed has a surprisingly large amount of hope for the future. 

                Stories in here get extremely short. A few are less than a page, flash fiction, a mere idea. Yet these are some beautiful pieces. By far one of the most touching is the beginning story ‘Earth was a Living Thing’. Here Reed places his optimism into a creature that’s not quite a creature. Concerns are projected onto the Earth. Features more typical of a person are displayed throughout these stories. Crying spider mommas, imagined tigers, even mermaids possess human characteristics. 

                Water is another major characteristic. Every story has at least a little bit of water, whether for rain or going down a colorful river. The water washes away a lot of worries. Spiders get the hose. Mermaids find a way to return back to their home. And fishing trips manage to bore Reed so much that he’s willing to leave his comfort zone for the radical unknown. In fact often Reed thinks of having more exciting events. He’s trying to break through to reach out to creatures by trying to rescue them in some way, whether they are moles or tigers. 

                This is a funny book. Some of the lines are so positively bizarre that it is hard to comprehend. Generally these moments are buried deep within the story. Rather than work as a ‘throw-away’ line they illustrate the general weirdness of the situation. Residing inside someone’s ear is just one example. Licking a road that’s nothing but drugs is another. Finally there’s the list of what should potentially be done with a fictitious vomiting creature. His experience with the turtle is particularly charming where he walks very slowly in order for the turtle to follow behind him.

                If Aesop’s fables ever decided to get weird, really weird, they’d look a lot like ‘Tell God I Don’t Exist’. These are the sorts of things that cope with life’s smaller problems, from an extremely personal point of view. Lacking dialogue the attention is paid to the individual’s response to a situation. Other people are mentioned mostly in passing. Rarely is there another character this is an extremely individualistic collection of works. When another character is introduced they are typically sympathetic, almost taking pity on the poor pathetic protagonist.

Moles by Timmy Reed


                Timmy Reed, more like Timmy Moleman, right? Moles receive a great deal of affection from the city slicker known as Timmy Reed. Is that even his real name? Reading ‘Timmy Reed’ seems ridiculous, almost made up. Whatever alias he chooses he remains a friend of the lovely humble underground dwelling creature, the mole. Few understand the habits of the mole as they live in the shadows of the Earth. Obviously moles love Mother Earth as they burrow deep into her, loving every inch of the glorious Mother Earth. Human exploit the Earth for resources, food, shelter, etc. All moles want to do is dig a couple of holes and look adorable while doing it. 

                Moles saved Timmy Reed’s life. Seeking refuge from the cold and oftentimes hostile city Reed went out to the country. America was built around the countryside, not around cities. Even old American folklore talks of the countryside with great pride. Cities are dirty filthy things. Thomas Jefferson stated “I view great cities as pestilential to the morals, the health, and the liberties of man.” Of course this quote refers to great cities. Timmy Reed is from Baltimore. Baltimore is not a great city despite what its city benches state. 

                Out in the countryside Reed notices a molehill. The molehill exists due to human complications. Where human complications exist there exists an opportunity for nature to thrive. Nature loves a good amount of space to simply run free. By a swing set that never happened due to fate, fate allowed the moles to live. It was almost as if fate granted Reed’s friends another sort of family, one different from the human variety. Animals are beautiful creatures. Wild creatures like the moles make perfect vague approximations of pets. Though moles can never be trained they can simply exist out there finding good ways of making due with precious little. 

                Under Reed’s benevolent rule the moles flourish. The health of the moles leads to the health of Reed’s mind. Yes nature nurtures after it has been nurtured. Worms help the molehills grow. Unfortunately the size of Reed’s heart cannot protect the moles forever. Instead of helping them grow Reed makes the colony grow a little too much. Eventually Reed, the king, must see his small kingdom grow awash in literal water. Watching it go Reed realizes what he did and what they did for him. Through his retreat to nature Reed found himself once again, full, complete, and alone.

Moles by Timmy Reed

                Timmy Reed, more like Timmy Moleman, right? Moles receive a great deal of affection from the city slicker known as Timmy Reed. Is that even his real name? Reading ‘Timmy Reed’ seems ridiculous, almost made up. Whatever alias he chooses he remains a friend of the lovely humble underground dwelling creature, the mole. Few understand the habits of the mole as they live in the shadows of the Earth. Obviously moles love Mother Earth as they burrow deep into her, loving every inch of the glorious Mother Earth. Human exploit the Earth for resources, food, shelter, etc. All moles want to do is dig a couple of holes and look adorable while doing it. 

                Moles saved Timmy Reed’s life. Seeking refuge from the cold and oftentimes hostile city Reed went out to the country. America was built around the countryside, not around cities. Even old American folklore talks of the countryside with great pride. Cities are dirty filthy things. Thomas Jefferson stated “I view great cities as pestilential to the morals, the health, and the liberties of man.” Of course this quote refers to great cities. Timmy Reed is from Baltimore. Baltimore is not a great city despite what its city benches state. 

                Out in the countryside Reed notices a molehill. The molehill exists due to human complications. Where human complications exist there exists an opportunity for nature to thrive. Nature loves a good amount of space to simply run free. By a swing set that never happened due to fate, fate allowed the moles to live. It was almost as if fate granted Reed’s friends another sort of family, one different from the human variety. Animals are beautiful creatures. Wild creatures like the moles make perfect vague approximations of pets. Though moles can never be trained they can simply exist out there finding good ways of making due with precious little. 

                Under Reed’s benevolent rule the moles flourish. The health of the moles leads to the health of Reed’s mind. Yes nature nurtures after it has been nurtured. Worms help the molehills grow. Unfortunately the size of Reed’s heart cannot protect the moles forever. Instead of helping them grow Reed makes the colony grow a little too much. Eventually Reed, the king, must see his small kingdom grow awash in literal water. Watching it go Reed realizes what he did and what they did for him. Through his retreat to nature Reed found himself once again, full, complete, and alone.