Bill Pearse

Recent Posts - page 51

• We should kill time

  By Bill Pearse on February 6, 2021 • ( 16 )

  

  It rained like hell, like uncooked rice spit on the windows the sound. And the big tree branches lay in clumps around the yard. And the ground oozed like sores, like cartoon mouths. And I dozed and woke to the… Read More ›

• The view looking in

  By Bill Pearse on February 2, 2021 • ( 4 )

  

  Solemnly he moved across the floor and back to the sofa where he lay on his side looking out the window. There was hair everywhere in the cracks and crevices, dog hair. He imagined the hair adhering to him when… Read More ›

• A touching display

  By Bill Pearse on January 30, 2021 • ( 10 )

  

  I let myself off the hook with my writing routine and look where it’s gotten me. I’ve started playing video games, the first person shooter kind, and go to bed replaying scenes of me dying or killing other players. I’ve… Read More ›

• The cosmic distance ladder

  By Bill Pearse on January 24, 2021 • ( 12 )

  

  Morning time in the old German village where we once lived. The narrow stone roads that feel like a labyrinth, more for pedestrians than cars. The sound of tire tread when cars pass slow. Everyone smoking. Past the Italian bakery… Read More ›

• It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about

  By Bill Pearse on January 10, 2021 • ( 30 )

  

  “When the men with guns who have always claimed to be against the system start wearing uniforms and marching with torches and pictures of a leader, the end is nigh. When the pro-leader paramilitary and the official police and military… Read More ›

• It’s not in the old Polaroids buried in the dark

  By Bill Pearse on December 31, 2020 • ( 30 )

  

  The story of your life is a series of well-told lies delivering a feeling of truth. No different than the lives we live. It isn’t the truth, but a sense of it we want. As readers, as travelers through this life, memory is one thing but the feeling it conveys is another.

• This bag is not a toy

  By Bill Pearse on December 21, 2020 • ( 26 )

  

  It is the best day of my life when I get a call from the editor asking me to report on a town meeting and submit a thousand words. Even though it’s just a weekly it’s my first time published, my name in print.

• Letters from former selves

  By Bill Pearse on December 17, 2020 • ( 44 )

  

  Looking back on your life is like looking out of a plane taking off or touching down. Trying to make out familiar places below, or leave it behind.

• That last Christmas in Cork

  By Bill Pearse on December 13, 2020 • ( 14 )

  

  We’d sit out there in the late afternoons as dusk came on and the thin windows beaded up with condensation, forming jeweled patterns in the corners. With the glow of the lights and the heater it felt cozy, like looking out from the inside of a gingerbread house.

• The dismemberment plan

  By Bill Pearse on December 10, 2020 • ( 17 )

  

  The first thing I had to do was quit drinking. I’d left my job, moved to Europe and stopped doing yoga. There was no congruence between doing yoga and getting drunk. One was a union of body and mind, the… Read More ›

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