Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Quoting depressed comedians
We start the 9 o’clock meeting some time after 9 o’clock. I book one of the conference rooms on the north side of the building, the ninth floor, picturesque views of downtown bathed in blue: sky blue, water blue, railroad… Read More ›
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Prism of grocery store clerk impressions
The song Lunatic Fringe comes on overhead and the checker, who’s deep in her 50s, looks up and disappears for a moment to another time, smiles a secret smile to herself and goes off to another place, all her own…. Read More ›
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An eye, an ear, a voice, a heart: the journey to find
(This post originally titled A voice, an ear, an eye, a heart, but I resequenced it.) Writers talk about the importance of finding your voice. That’s been the premise of this blog, to see what I sound like as a writer… Read More ›
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What happened when the vanpool driver cracked
This is a confession about me, the vanpool driver, and how I’ve begun to secretly hate the other riders on our van. It’s no different than what happens to bus drivers, taxi drivers, airplane pilots: people who get paid carting… Read More ›
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Gay weddings, recreational pot
Our state legalized both, this last election cycle. The laws behind gay marriage made sense, but many of us didn’t understand what legalizing recreational pot really meant, until now. Louie and Michael pulled up in an antique Rolls Royce, wearing… Read More ›
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Remote diagnostics: kids and phones
The kids got phones yesterday. They’re 9 and almost 7. Charlotte clasped her hands and said, mine has The Internet! Lily sat on the steps in the dark and lost herself in the folds of the display. They were both hand-me-down… Read More ›
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Song of myself, ourself
I stood at the Hoh Head on the Washington coast and looked out on the lone, proud rock that stood hard against the sea And the clouds moved like a membrane, how they swelled and became gauze across my eyes… Read More ›
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Bad thoughts precede bad thoughts: flying, drinking, writing, landing
Flying, sipping brandy out of a cup, 5 in the morning. Leaning back in our blankets, in our seats, reclining. We raise our hands to the displays and tap the screens and look as dull and robotic as the figures… Read More ›
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Still
The girls are in the bedroom with the sun washed over them, mouths slung open. The water here is either too hard or soft, it’s hard to make a lather. I’ve been up more than 24 hours flying, eating, drinking,… Read More ›
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Last Seen With
The cats spend the day outside killing, then come in for their canned food. I stood in the garden watering, having the sense something was wrong, and noticed a small rabbit on its side with a gash in its neck…. Read More ›
Bill Pearse 