Author Archives

Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.

• Now anyone can talk to God on the Internet

  By Bill Pearse on October 14, 2014 • ( 8 )

  

    My wife and I sit in the dark in the morning listening to the radio, listening to a person who’s picking out the songs and talking about them, and she wonders how it’s possible this still exists, now that… Read More ›

• The Rubik’s Cube of Plot

  By Bill Pearse on October 11, 2014 • ( 8 )

  We are all emitting and absorbing information every day. Those who are not are dead or non-existent, or irrelevant. Their pictures will be found unmarked in shoeboxes, not rooted in anything, thrown out. In this selfie age, everything is spectacular,… Read More ›

• What happened to Brown

  By Bill Pearse on October 3, 2014 • ( 6 )

  

  Brown didn’t really like baseball, but played in the Major League. He was white, had a mustache, and a pretty good build, for 40. He played outfield, which wasn’t the best, but still pretty good. Brown kept to himself mainly,… Read More ›

• ‘The followers of chaos, out of control’

  By Bill Pearse on October 1, 2014 • ( 4 )

  

  My youngest daughter is in first grade, and wants to be popular. She wants to be popular because she’s unsure who she is. Popularity must be good, it’s a form of acceptance. They’ll do anything to be popular at that… Read More ›

• The Unraveling of Mark Kozelek

  By Bill Pearse on September 28, 2014 • ( 7 )

  

  Last week, Kozelek got some press related to belligerent remarks he made to audiences and fellow musicians The War on Drugs. For someone like Mark, who requires a footnote explaining who he is by way of the band he used… Read More ›

• You can’t retweet a memory: Nick Drake, Starbucks, why we roast turkeys

  By Bill Pearse on September 27, 2014 • ( 13 )

  

  Hurting, brooding, kind of liking how it feels, discovering pain and self-pity as a teenager, with Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks. When I hear those songs now it reminds me of that time and it’s even better, it’s been auto-corrected. At… Read More ›

• Another run-in with the surly butcher

  By Bill Pearse on September 21, 2014 • ( 15 )

  Why do butchers act the way they do? Because they chop meat and get covered with blood, for work? I got to the store early, picked up my things, and saved the meat for last. I needed a couple pounds… Read More ›

• Why the leaves fall

  By Bill Pearse on September 20, 2014 • ( 9 )

  There is an old woman collecting leaves on the sidewalk No one notices what happens to all the leaves They are like days we sometimes save and they can be beautiful, and look like all the rest The days are… Read More ›

• Carson Street slideshow, 1994

  By Bill Pearse on September 6, 2014 • ( 15 )

  We are in Michael’s boyfriend’s apartment, getting into Michael’s boyfriend’s bag. Michael is gay before anyone else in Pittsburgh. He wears scarves and earrings with hoops and looks beautiful but doesn’t act like a priss. People talk behind his back… Read More ›

• For anyone who cares what they look like when found dead, puts on make-up to jog, or combs their hair before bed

  By Bill Pearse on September 3, 2014 • ( 4 )

  

  We go to Portland for the weekend, to get away. They’re so polite in Portland, their graffiti looks like this: LIFE CHECKLIST WORK HARD PLAY HARD LOVE YOURSELF All the boxes are checked. I look around and think, maybe it… Read More ›