Bill Pearse

Recent Posts - page 25

• Ninety-nine words or less

  By Bill Pearse on May 5, 2024 • ( 5 )

  

  Not reams of it, but baskets full of bad poetry. Enough to take up the corner of a normal-sized room. Haphazardly put there without regard. Left-behind objects of nominal worth. Left out in the sun or the rain too long… Read More ›

• Sunday morning on Capitol Hill

  By Bill Pearse on April 28, 2024 • ( 22 )

  

  When I came to Seattle in my 20s it felt like anything was possible. We drove from Philadelphia with all our possessions, my girlfriend and our books, jade plants, my two cats Pokey and Sherman. Passing through the last leg… Read More ›

• Primitive painters

  By Bill Pearse on April 16, 2024 • ( 8 )

  

  There are parts of the chicken that don’t look like they should be eaten but dad does anyway, hunched over the table and working it with his hands and lips. Because he’s missing some teeth dad doesn’t chew as much… Read More ›

• Near adults, just kids

  By Bill Pearse on April 13, 2024 • ( 25 )

  

  I always did mushrooms on an empty stomach. That’s what my friend John Kimmich said to do. We’d sit in that shithole apartment on our recliners staring at the TV waiting for it to kick in. It was always the… Read More ›

• My new content series, Gig Work

  By Bill Pearse on March 23, 2024 • ( 21 )

  

  Fifteen years ago I started a blog. For the first three years, no one liked, commented, or followed me. And that was okay because I didn’t know what I was doing. You can call those first three years my online… Read More ›

• The Slider

  By Bill Pearse on February 25, 2024 • ( 6 )

  

  If there’s a brotherly love that can happen between men, I felt it most for my old Cajun friend Myki. And I think about him every Fat Tuesday when the Mardi Gras music starts, and wonder what he’s up to…. Read More ›

• Seeing through screens

  By Bill Pearse on February 17, 2024 • ( 11 )

  

  In the middle of the night, from the other side of the room, I can hear the sound of the dog breathing. It is a deep, peaceful sound like a human’s breath. The cat, on the other hand, makes no… Read More ›

• Ode to Can

  By Bill Pearse on February 16, 2024 • ( 22 )

  

  Damo Suzuki died. It was a bleak mid-February day in the Pacific Northwest, the kind of day that reminds you it’s still a long way to spring. Fittingly it reminded me of our time in Berlin one February, a place… Read More ›

• Made-up dreams

  By Bill Pearse on February 11, 2024 • ( 17 )

  

  When Dawn is gone and I have the bed to myself I spread out like a starfish and fall into a deep sleep. Last night I dreamt I saw a younger version of myself; the two of us were introduced… Read More ›

• The drive back from Portland

  By Bill Pearse on February 9, 2024 • ( 4 )

  

  The drive back from Portland is not just a drive back from Portland, it’s every drive you’ve ever made. It’s the roadtrips with the family, the one you made to the Redwoods, the one with a girlfriend in the late… Read More ›

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