Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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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 ›
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You Don’t Have To Go Away To Go Somewhere (2)
We get eagles crying off the deck every day, and tall trees to look at. Still we look out there and think it can be better somewhere else. It can. But do we have to go there?
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A Life Of Imperfection
I don’t know why I feel the need to control my environment, but I do. Maybe it would come out, after $200/hour in counseling, that it’s a response to my parent’s divorce, 20 years ago. Or maybe it’s just genetic:… Read More ›
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Guys Night Out
Six of us, eight bottles of wine, family-style Italian. I made a U-turn up 35th to end the night, and slept in Mike’s basement. Although I lived in his basement for a month 12 years ago, I don’t sleep right… Read More ›
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Wisdom
There are kinds of wisdom you don’t want. One comes from true loneliness. I’ve forgotten what it feels like, but once I celebrated loneliness as a source of creative inspiration. That’s a younger kind of loneliness, from break-ups and rejection…. Read More ›
Bill Pearse 