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

  • Paperboy

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    Is the paperboy dead? Here is one part of my life which is being carried out to sea by history. In the early 80s, I made a couple thousand dollars delivering newspapers. It taught me to set my alarm, be… Read More ›

  • She Gives Shavasna

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    I had a friend who said he’d like to try Yoga but was afraid he’d do something stupid in class, like fart. I do think about that from time to time, but it hasn’t happened to me yet. At its… Read More ›

  • 9.04″

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    We got over nine inches of rain in November here. Today, at 3:30 p.m. the sun was just two fingers away from the horizon. On the ride in this morning, NPR ran a story about a 15 year-old girl who… Read More ›

  • Stress-Free Christmas Tree Erection

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    The key to a stress-free erection is the fake tree, which unfolds as easily as an umbrella, comes pre-lit, and stands perfectly straight every time. There’s no sap, no haggling with the farmer, and no bungee-chording it down to the… Read More ›

  • Deus Does Not Exist

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    Dick ruined my birthday the year we had to take him into the ER for brain problems. Dawn said she got to the house and it was dark, but her dad was standing there in the hallway leading down to… Read More ›

  • English 413

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    This was a senior-level English poetry class I got into as a sophomore. We met in a log cabin on-campus and sat in a circle, facing each other, as we read our poems and critiqued one another. One night we… Read More ›

  • Lies

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    When I met my friend Pete, he asked if I could sing. I lied and said yes, I did – which was part truth and part lie. The truth was I did sing – but whether I could sing was… Read More ›

  • Contact

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    I got a comment on one of my posts this week from a guy in Texas. It made me realize I need to be comfortable with strangers reading about my life. But then it dawned on me, that’s the whole… Read More ›

  • The Smith Corona

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    I’ve been writing for 25 years now – “writing,” meaning more than just checks or grocery lists. When you say you’re a writer though, it implies you get paid to do it, or that you’ve been published. It’s easy to… Read More ›

  • Back to Work

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    The week started with a blow-out on I-90. Unless it’s a sale, “blow-out” is not a good word. It can also refer to diapers. I got going in the dark, wind, and rain at 6:15 a.m., hoping to get a… Read More ›