Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you. Pinklightsabre is a silly name I thought of years ago: Anthony and I had a running list of names for punk bands we imagined we would start,… Read More ›
Errata
The feeling of a house with everything taken out
I can’t help getting rattled by the constant disarray of our house: the kids, the cats, the dog, the yard. Everywhere, something is off. But then I remember the look of our house in West Seattle when we moved out:… Read More ›
Long hand
I wrote longhand over the weekend, on the bus down to Portland and back. Since the bus had Wi-Fi, I thought I’d be clever and post a blog on it. But I chose my paper notebook instead. My best ideas… Read More ›
Death is not the end
It’s the only dream I’ve had where I actually die in it. Normally, if I’m being chased by something or I’m falling, I wake up before it’s over, or I find a way out. But this dream ended with the… Read More ›
Superstition: On MacBeth, the Tarot, and the Tale of the Lucky Leprechaun
I am superstitious and proud. I think people come by superstition because they want to have control over things they really don’t. They want to believe they can control their own fate, through faith and ritual. In Shakespeare’s play, MacBeth… Read More ›
Sentiment, sediment, and what’s at the bottom of it
Alright, so I am sentimental about people, places and things. I keep old notes in my coats, a mish-mash of crap in my sock drawer, and I’ve been known to haunt dead-end streets where I necked with a girl. I… Read More ›
On Memoirs, Getting Lost in the Labyrinth
I’ve gone back to A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man for inspiration, this year. As I suffer through the exfoliation phase of writing and the need to purge my life through memoirs, I hope it will lead… Read More ›
Public Speaking Nightmares
Public speaking is a dance with fear, a dance you need to lead. It’s the battle with yourself to not look like an idiot, to get out of your head: the challenge to be yourself, when everyone is watching. Where… Read More ›
Attachments (the transience of creation)
I lay myself open with arms splayed out, waiting. Whatever comes out of me can only come from within. I look at my fingers on the keyboard, waiting to be told what to do. Mind and Eye discuss the look of Hands…. Read More ›
In a river the color of lead
We were flying above the Atlantic when the Newtown school shootings occurred, headed to Germany. Eberhard asked if I heard about it and I hadn’t, so he broke the news to us. Various Europeans we met over the next couple… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 