Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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The Grind-Down
The headline is Charlotte, who lost her fingertip in the hinge of a door last night at the drop-off daycare in Issaquah. The worst part is that Dawn did it, by letting the door go while Charlotte leaned into it,… Read More ›
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Synchronicity
I ran my hand over my hair and it felt waxy, like a crayon. Losing interest in bathing can either be a sign of depression or liberation: it depends on how long you go, and why you’re not doing it.
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The Mysterious Life of Bradford Cox
The audience at the Showbox was cold and self-conscious last night: they held their digital cameras up, but that’s about all the movement the band saw from us, from the stage. He said, “I wish we could have been more… Read More ›
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Ground Rules
Meetings are hard to run. You get no training in advance, you just have to figure it out. It’s a public display of you trying to figure it out, and failing in the process. That is, of course, how we… Read More ›
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Spider Death
Last night I killed a spider with the garbage disposal: it was in the sink already on the edge, I hit it with a splash of leftover milk, and it was just enough to knock it off balance, catch it… Read More ›
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Heads Buried In Smartphones
At the playground, all the parents’ heads are buried in their smartphones.
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The Recording
Many precious moments go by unrecorded. Some get recorded, but shouldn’t. This was the case with my uncle, who caught a moment of my grandfather in the latter years of his life. Jim had us come down to the basement… Read More ›
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My Life Isn’t As Bad As Theirs, But I Dream That It Could Be
This is the attitude that brought me to Joy Division, living in Erie, Pennsylvania in 1988 and suffering through my first autumn away from home. The desperation in the music brought me up somehow. It put us in a trance,… Read More ›
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French Razor Cut
I booked a haircut online with our in-house stylist, at work. I chose the French Razor Cut because it sounded exotic, and I imagined the guy would be using a straight razor in that quick, jerky manner they do, with… Read More ›
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Lehigh Street
The last time we were home for Easter, I drove by the apartment where I grew up, on Lehigh Street. We lived there for 12 years, in a two bedroom apartment with the washer and dryer right there in the… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 