Tim Goodwillie’s body was/will-be born, raised, and threatened with violence for listening to the Smiths, in Greater & Lesser Kansas City (things have changed, now it is a never-ending dance party. . . really); then, after several attempts to locate and dislocate his self, Tim discovered a way to fractalate, and super expand simultaneously into every possible moment and their corollary trajectories, infinite lives: short, long, lost; then, again, past the rattle of human bones, past the furthest reaches into the glow of a dark and wooded valley, where the Good People, generate silvery vibrational tones into a trans-dimensional energy bubble that protects the local real from The Great Collapse, caused by the motion of a vast idiot evil, moving towards us: falling identity towers, increasing coincidence, and breaking Tim’s heart.
But, just before the turn of the century, betwixt the river Styx and Fort Thunder, Tim accidentally trepanated himself, and then ran as fast as his, strangely short legs, for his height, could carry him. Hands flapping like a sissy, he ran away from the moving shadow’s malevolence and the rotting preservatives of old New England into the lush cholo & flapper haunted hills of The Land of Los Angeles, (not to be confused with Sid and Marty Krofft’s classic 1974 television series of the same name?) where he worked as: a Job Applicant, Sound Masseuse, Baby Maker, and Echo Curio founder; recording under his own name in plural (Goodwillies), Death My Bride, I Thought You Were My Friends, Verb Participle Consonant ((VxPxC)), La Lus, Air Snakes, Spilt, Thousands, Sweet Pioneers, Fuzzcicle, and as a Tabernacle Hillside Singer.
Tim, his wife, Heather, and two kids, Cat and Eno, moved back home to Kansas in the summer of 2008, so back home in fact, that he can hear his high school’s marching band in the rainbow sherbert swirl of cicada buzz, train moan, and storm crush.