Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
-
The area of a square
We are sitting on a swing on the porch of an airbnb in the town where Lily goes to school, Cedar City, Utah. It’s a fine town, though not much of a town. There’s a university which gives it a… Read More ›
-
The coarse acting show
But there is a similarity between acting and creative nonfiction writing in being true, through channeling a feeling for others as a form of release. Because we all need a release from this world.
-
What I would do if I had the time
Saying I’m unemployed sounds dramatic but I guess it’s true. You go through periods of being unemployed when you work contracts and for me it’s not much of a thing. Since the pandemic, I’ve worked a string of jobs (maybe… Read More ›
-
On a Friday morning in September somewhere
I have come here to see my kid. Air BNB blankets gathered around my legs, the windows cracked. The time different, the sun not yet come up, all my things in the closet or my carry-on. It is different not… Read More ›
-
The journey to the top is nonstop
I’ve had to run across the airport to catch my plane. I try to be zen about these things but part of me is and part of me isn’t. I know I’m going to make my connection because it’s just… Read More ›
-
The first person
If the phone is the new mask of Greek theater, a personō for us to sound through, perhaps our kids just understand better than we do how to really use it. Because as Bowie showed us, the self is a kind of fiction.
-
I killed the crow
So why am I spending so much time on this game? Escapism, or another form of numbing? Is it because there’s an instant cause and effect happening in my brain, the dopamine hit gamblers get from ringing bells, instant rewards? Or is the appeal of the multiverse more of an existential desire to be somewhere else, somewhere better than here?
-
Playing Bach string sonatas in the dark
How dark the evening with no moon, the dark before the dawn. I did the early morning candle and music thing, as close as I come to meditating. I had to turn the light on in the bathroom though because… Read More ›
-
Let go into the mystery
The dark pockets of mom’s old house were something to see. It could be depressing too, how the leaning walls closed in on you. But for a Sunday morning in late August with the rain coming down I was glad… Read More ›
-
Did you get your disconnection notice?
Funny how it often feels good to disconnect, but then we long to feel connected again. And maybe that’s the combination I’ve found this week reconnecting with my mom and our home here in Germany. Lily went away for a… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 