I Went Back to 1992: How Jazz, 12 Steno Pads, and Bad Coffee Restarted My Art

I'm moving the Rough Sketch show to once a month because life (clients, interviews, and general chaos) is loud, and I'm using that extra space to go back to poetry — the thing that actually hooked me on art. I'm Timothy Kimo Brien, your resident instigator, and this episode is me dusting off 12 steno pads, putting pen to paper, and reading a rough sketch called "Going Back" that leans on jazz, nostalgia, and the messy, beautiful return to simplicity. The poem walks through late-night weariness, a mausoleum of depression, and the small ritual of scratching thoughts down as both warning and salvation — basically me trying to send postcards to myself from places I shouldn't have left. I talk about why prompts didn't stick, how I decided no prompt was needed, and why editing in a new way helped the work breathe. Stick around for the pieces I read, give me your honest take, and take this as your friendly nudge to tame that inner critic: create more than you consume, write a poem about what you're going through, and maybe share it with me. I'll catch you next month — same chaos, more poems.

Poem:Going Back

6 Sept 2026

The record spins

The arm lifts up,

over, gracefully

I am back to 1992

Looking at the hard-fought bags

under my bloodshot eyes

Aching body

Aching mind

Vision is blurry