I got into Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks in high school while riding in the back of Mark’s Mustang, on the way to New Hope, Pennsylvania. The car was fast, and we hugged the twists and turns along the Delaware… Read More ›
Memoir
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 ›
Cave
I bought a collection by Rilke at Darvill’s bookstore on Orcas Island, hoping it would free me from a year without writing. The store is small, warm, and jam-packed with books. A chime goes off when the door opens, and… Read More ›
The Disappearing Eyes
Henry and Eve told us about a castle out in the country off Keim Road, and we were convinced there was something bad happening there. Henry interviewed the owner and filmed it: two elderly men lived there, descendants of a… Read More ›
This Mortal Coil
Chris, Dave and I were wedged into a one-bedroom cottage above a Texaco off Division Street in Ocean City, Maryland. The CD function “Repeat” was still a novelty to us in 1992, and we put the record Blood on by… Read More ›
Attendant
I gave up looking for Emmett’s body down by the creek and climbed back up the hill to the house. I checked my face for damage from the fall, and had a cut by my eye where my glasses broke…. Read More ›
The J. Collis Browne Mixture
John summoned the J. Collis Browne Mixture for my upset stomach. The expiration on it was 1993, and it was banned from the U.S. for its opiate contents. The mixture was beige and tasteless but I was desperate, having poisoned… Read More ›
Spirit Dog and Screw Face
Ben was a Golden who lived on a farm down the road. We called him Spirit Dog because he had to cross the highway to get to our house, and never got hit. Emmet was a mutt who got abandoned… Read More ›
What’s worth than birth
Today’s my day, 1970: born across the street from the Allentown Fair while my dad was having a hamburger and my mom labored. They were 21, met in the laundromat, my mom folding my dad’s laundry. Married two months later,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 