At times the rain could be maddening, the repetition. And it got so dark you had to watch your mood or you could slip under. I thought back to our time in Salthill, outside of Galway, when our family came… Read More ›
Travelogues
Field recordings, Portland
I went back to Portland to see my childhood friend Loren for the night. Arrived early and left 24 hours later. We took our familiar walks and ended things where we started, at his local coffee shop, Keeper. In the… Read More ›
Waning crescent
Made plans to drive to Portland for the weekend and see my childhood friend for a night. Woke at 0330 too excited to sleep and used my phone light to pack an overnight bag: just my toothbrush and night guard,… Read More ›
Samhain in Scotland reflection
Early November always reminds me of Scotland, the best memories of our UK winter tour there 10 years ago. Going for breakfast on All Saint’s Day, Celtic New Year, at some barren stone cottage on the shores of Loch Ness…. Read More ›
Deep winter fantasies on a new October moon
No one seems to like my gumbo as much as I do but that hasn’t discouraged me from making it. It’s the smell of the roux and the mouthfeel of a rich stew that feels best this time of year…. Read More ›
Place
I’d visibly gained weight after my trip to Europe. The weight that hangs on the gut in flaps. I was way too proud for all that and felt dirtied by my own excess: bread, butter, cheese, pastries, cake. I got… Read More ›
American Pie
This is the final post in a two-week series of travelogues set in Besigheim, Germany with my mom, Linda Pearse. It’s a queer, ghostly light the moon makes through the fog and the early morning dark. I’m now used to… Read More ›
Last Friday in Germany
Wasn’t forecast to rain but it did and I got caught in it. Sunrise, if you want to call it that, was an hour away still. The cocks still knew the time and croaked as I walked by. Odd to… Read More ›
Copies, backups, forgeries
Once you get into the valley it’s a sea of fog. I take the footpath down by the river through the dark and the moon gets swallowed. The sky looks the way old TV screens looked in the 70s after… Read More ›
On the 18 to Ludwigsburg
The train is always the same and so are the vineyards, the trees just starting to change. Europe holds on to its roots. Once in Florence a guy said to me, in the States you live in the future; we… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 