Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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The sports court
When we bought this house, it came with a sports court. That’s pretty unlikely, that we’d own a sports court. First, the bombast to own property that’s big enough for one. Then, the idea that I’d be out there in… Read More ›
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Beer, blankets and sunsets
That time of year the days outlast us, the sun comes through the trees and into our family room around 9 PM. Saturday night with Cat Stevens, the girls’ dramatic dance interpretations of Peace Train, the irony that my mom… Read More ›
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Fake rooms for people
In the mid 90s I didn’t have a computer and had to rent time on a box at an internet cafe on Broadway. It was dark, small and felt sleazy: four or five of us with our backs to each… Read More ›
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When slice-of-life doesn’t cut it anymore
Eyes closed, on my back, losing touch with my position in space. Voices passing outside the door, in the hall. Someone pushing a cart. Someone running water. Can’t feel my hands, can’t move my feet. Mind is awake. I can… Read More ›
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Flirting with the banal
James Joyce can describe a commonplace train commute as something wondrous. Shouldn’t it be? You can take pictures of trees and rocks or write poems about them. There aren’t special glasses for artists, though. You have to find the fruit… Read More ›
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A wish for the year 2017
You have a restaurant. The restaurant is born out of your desire to share your favorite recipes, create a place for people to feel a certain way. Whether or not you know it, you’ve got a brand. There are things… Read More ›
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Maps are approximations
Man sketches Earth: Earth bears us up, draws us down Man gives names to things, to own: “Elliot Bay.” “Mercer Island.” The land and the water meet where the people come, But the land needs no name.
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Picture from Chico, California early 80s
I ask my neighbor if he’s ever been to Chico. He met a girl from there who invited him to her mom’s, in Paradise. He took his shotgun since it was bird-hunting season, and drove his truck in the late… Read More ›
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Weekly Photo Challenge: Signs
Lily gets a call from the neighbor boy Danny, asking can she meet at the construction site? She’s sick, but perks up, flicks her hair, is halfway out the door once I catch up to her and say, “This is… Read More ›
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The record you made after you should have stopped making records
Driving across Maryland in the middle of the night, from a state campground back to our flat in Ocean City. The end of the summer, college graduation, months spent standing around with lagers and our guts hanging out, passing pipes,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 