Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Trump indictment looms as the world looks on
If you really think about it, it’s funny we use the phrase to “pay attention.” If attention is ours, why do we have to pay for it? Usually you buy something you don’t have. It seems counterintuitive since others literally… Read More ›
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The spring of our discontent
It’s spring again, so I bought a book called Global Catastrophic Risks. It’s not the right book for the season but I’m compelled to read it because it cost so much. It’s thick and scientific with a Bruegel painting on… Read More ›
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‘A’ stands for ambiguous in AI
‘A’ stands for ambiguous in AI Check out my new WordPress site Words Matter for essays about today’s emerging technologies and how AI will impact all of us. Thanks to my good friends here who helped me create this first… Read More ›
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No more the mystery
Automating music discovery through algorithms has forever changed the way we learn about and consume new music. But have we lost something precious along the way? I moved to Seattle in the summer of ’96 and left just after a… Read More ›
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Letting go of Jon Cook
In 1996 I didn’t know what to do there, I just knew I had to be on the internet. There was a little internet cafe around the corner from my apartment on Broadway, Seattle’s hip, gay neighborhood I’d just moved… Read More ›
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Brief candles
Leaving Utah last September was one of the saddest times of my life, saying goodbye to our daughter Lily. That little airport in the middle of nowhere, so desolate. Sitting in the lobby waiting for the airport workers to open… Read More ›
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World Funny Shortage Getting Serious
Comedy writer Axel Loffmann thought it was just him. Maybe he was going through a dry period. But when Loffmann asked around the comedy community (… World Funny Shortage Getting Serious
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Midwinter break
Literally everyone standing in line is on their phone. It said the wait time was 85 minutes but when we got halfway through they said it would be longer, that’s all they said. And when Charlotte checked the wait time… Read More ›
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The signet pinky ring went missing
I had to let go of the ring. The ring was gone. The ring came off when I removed my work gloves, fell to the ground, a garden bed. The ring lay unnoticed for a time on its side. The… Read More ›
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Middle-age, Death is at the foot of your bed
You stand for a moment fitting your pack and wonder, is it too late for me to set out? The dream metaphor is this: I’m busy packing, gathering my things at the car. I have the lift gate open and… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 