Author Archives

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

• Six Arms

  By Bill Pearse on February 18, 2013 • ( 1 )

  

  My first bar in Seattle was Six Arms. Glen was a skinny guy who worked there and drove a silver 280-Z. He was sick with HIV, and they had a jar to collect donations for his treatments, but he died… Read More ›

• Moss-Petting in Portland

  By Bill Pearse on February 17, 2013 • ( 2 )

  

  I love making fun of Portland. And I love making fun of my friend, Loren. Since Loren lives in Portland now I get to make fun of them both. I caught a bus down there last weekend, to treat Loren… Read More ›

• Confessions of a Project Manager

  By Bill Pearse on February 16, 2013 • ( 8 )

  I took a bet I’d like this whole project management thing. I liked the idea of bringing order to chaos, helping people think things through, and getting things done. When I studied project management in the classroom it all made… Read More ›

• Buckets of Rain

  By Bill Pearse on February 15, 2013 • ( 3 )

  

  I got into Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks in high school while riding in the back of Mark’s Mustang, on the way to New Hope, Pennsylvania. The car was fast, and we hugged the twists and turns along the Delaware… Read More ›

• Leave the window cracked

  By Bill Pearse on February 14, 2013 • ( 2 )

  Each day I post something here, there’s the possibility it will carry across the world. Sometimes it feels like I’m shaking a snow globe and holding it for a few moments, for passersby to stop and look at. When you… Read More ›

• WordPress Daily Prompt: All About Me

  By Bill Pearse on February 13, 2013 • ( 2 )

  

  Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you. Pinklightsabre is a silly name I thought of years ago: Anthony and I had a running list of names for punk bands we imagined we would start,… Read More ›

• The feeling of a house with everything taken out

  By Bill Pearse on February 12, 2013 • ( 1 )

  

  I can’t help getting rattled by the constant disarray of our house: the kids, the cats, the dog, the yard. Everywhere, something is off. But then I remember the look of our house in West Seattle when we moved out:… Read More ›

• Long hand

  By Bill Pearse on February 11, 2013 • ( 3 )

  

  I wrote longhand over the weekend, on the bus down to Portland and back. Since the bus had Wi-Fi, I thought I’d be clever and post a blog on it. But I chose my paper notebook instead. My best ideas… Read More ›

• Death is not the end

  By Bill Pearse on February 9, 2013 • ( 13 )

  

  It’s the only dream I’ve had where I actually die in it. Normally, if I’m being chased by something or I’m falling, I wake up before it’s over, or I find a way out. But this dream ended with the… Read More ›

• Superstition: On MacBeth, the Tarot, and the Tale of the Lucky Leprechaun

  By Bill Pearse on February 8, 2013 • ( 4 )

  

  I am superstitious and proud. I think people come by superstition because they want to have control over things they really don’t. They want to believe they can control their own fate, through faith and ritual. In Shakespeare’s play, MacBeth… Read More ›