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

  • Snow

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    When it snowed, my dad dug a path from the front door to the sidewalk There were no cars on the road except the sound of someone with chains going by At night, the snow took what light was left… Read More ›

  • The Candidate

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    I did it as a favor for a co-worker, who asked if we would give an interview for a young friend just out of college. The kid showed up in a suit, with a good smile and handshake. There were… Read More ›

  • Real Time

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    I love my digital music collection, but going through it is like going through a closet that’s over-stuffed, looking for the perfect thing but just winding up feeling frustrated about all the possibilities, none of them quite working out long… Read More ›

  • Vast Deference

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    I got the “procedure” today, as I described to Lily – something about not wanting to have kids again, put gingerly. “You and Charlotte are plenty, honey.” The doctor was matter-of-fact, swift, and at times, downright gruff in the way… Read More ›

  • The Grind-Down

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    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 ›

  • Synchronicity

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    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.

  • The Mysterious Life of Bradford Cox

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    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 ›

  • Ground Rules

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    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 ›

  • Spider Death

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    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 ›

  • Heads Buried In Smartphones

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    At the playground, all the parents’ heads are buried in their smartphones.