Another dream where I’m outside the building where I used to work but my badge won’t let me in because I’ve been fired. I took my mom to one of my favorite restaurants but began choking on an olive pit… Read More ›
Memoir
The last Sunday in September
The drive from Portland to Seattle on a Sunday morning in early fall. Fog lifting, leaves changing, the look of the clouds. Later how the fire consolidated down to a few logs glowing red. The pink in the western sky… Read More ›
The last day of the fair
Going to the fair was less about going to the fair and more about reliving past times we wanted to hold onto. I’d never noticed it before, but all the rides were basically the same. In the same positions even…. Read More ›
The phone can’t see what’s really real
The month wore on. Though it was cool at night I left the windows open to hear the rain slap the patio. The light was different now, and struggled to make it over the trees. The grass had gone to… Read More ›
Letters and passageways (5): trial runs
This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. You wear it on your body, and you don’t even know what it means? Allanah grated potatoes onto… Read More ›
Letters and passageways (4): Cathar country
This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. Allanah and Gregory seem to me a bit bats. It’s more Allanah with her self-taught fortune telling, Gregory’s… Read More ›
Letters and passageways (3): Rob and Paul
This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. Rob and Paul seem like an unlikely gay couple to me, not knowing what gay couples are supposed… Read More ›
Letters and passageways (2): Shawn and Seamus
This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. Shawn Lee is my favorite bartender at my favorite bar, The Six Arms. He is often smiling, and… Read More ›
The wind through our windows, Anchorage
We tottered down the runway, wriggling inside the plane. Pale lead morning, 18 years since I’d flown to Alaska. That weekend before 9/11, the end of the tourist season, closing down the shops. Our kids now taking pictures outside the… Read More ›
Self portrait under August sky
It is a Thursday night with live music at nearby Pine Lake we can hear from our house. It is also a full moon, the night before we leave for Alaska, the coffee maker set for 3. I’ve shaved my… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 