Author Archives

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

• Dream about a boy who turned to stone: online loneliness

  By Bill Pearse on November 2, 2013 • ( 10 )

  We go to our corners, the family. There’s the TV and the kitchen for the genders to split, devices for the teenagers to keep them docile, interested, present. Life spins in a prism of thoughts and distractions, frames. Most you… Read More ›

• The thing about the dead is they’re not

  By Bill Pearse on October 31, 2013 • ( 3 )

  Today I’m rebroadcasting a post from when we lived in Germany four years ago, on the theme of death and my step-dad’s passing, five years ago today. Enjoy the holiday, and may the spirits be with you. Famous Last Words

• Magic and Loss

  By Bill Pearse on October 30, 2013 • ( 4 )

  

  I got stuck the last two days trying to write about Lou Reed, but it was me, not Lou Reed, that got in the way. Lou Reed doesn’t really have anything to do with it. He came up on Shuffle… Read More ›

• Far From Home (Positively 5th Street)

  By Bill Pearse on October 26, 2013 • ( 10 )

  

  The last time I went, they tore it down so it made me wonder if it was ever even there: that brick building by the art museum where I paid my first rent, on 5th and Hamilton street, Allentown, PA…. Read More ›

• Goodbye to the guy in the van

  By Bill Pearse on October 24, 2013 • ( 14 )

  For the past couple years, I’ve been tracking a homeless guy who lived out of a van on the alley by my work, the Starbucks corporate office. I got to know his name, made small talk, met his son, shared… Read More ›

• “Trapped in the amber of this moment”

  By Bill Pearse on October 23, 2013 • ( 9 )

  I finished the Harry Potter series on Saturday, and felt the loss at the end of the story, no more. I got cranky and unmotivated, hard to be around. I started getting obsessed with death themes. I had a dream… Read More ›

• When a blogger dies, does anyone notice?

  By Bill Pearse on October 22, 2013 • ( 23 )

  There are many parts of my life I can’t remember and there are many reasons for that. I’d like to think of my brain as a well-organized refrigerator: I can reach in there with my eyes closed, and know where… Read More ›

• Dead as a door-nail

  By Bill Pearse on October 20, 2013 • ( 5 )

  I’m sitting in the den drinking beer. The fog won’t burn off, it’s cold like San Francisco. I stood in the aisle at the grocery store with the toothpaste and traveler-size section, and lost myself in the overhead music, forgot… Read More ›

• Song for madness, ode to moon

  By Bill Pearse on October 19, 2013 • ( 0 )

  The halo around the moon is the son of madness who follows a cold light who sits inside shadows haunted by sounds — a footstep, a figure, a face… who’s fallen for his own reflection, has nothing but himself and… Read More ›

• Song for autumn

  By Bill Pearse on October 18, 2013 • ( 0 )

  

  A piece of fuzz in the air, a seed-bloom, a soul, will-o’-the-wisp leading me to uplit trees, quiet hillsides, hidden peaks. A voice, a dream, a memory, the sunset in autumn and softening light: Who can pretend the angle doesn’t affect… Read More ›