They look back at themselves thinking they will see something more but never do, they are still the same. We are the modern harvesters picking turds out of the grass, bits of glass that could be made into something, some day. Who… Read More ›
art
From the throat, a crow’s hand
We are several hours away in the hills, the desert steppe, a friend’s cabin, down a dead end road that leads to a lake, a quarry, so quiet you can hear the gravel on the shoulder when we pull over… Read More ›
When the skin once so taut loses shape
I got to the intersection and wasn’t sure which way to go. When there’s nowhere to go and you can go anywhere, it’s like spinning a Roulette wheel, deciding which way to go. I took the same, windy road that day I… Read More ›
Don’t start at the beginning
I put my kids in front of the computer to watch “E.T.” as a generational experiment, to see if it takes. Right away, Charlotte (7) starts firing off questions: Who’s that? Where are they going? Is he a bad guy? The… Read More ›
Working on leaving the living (2)
As I’m nearing my 500th post, and re-entering the job market as a writer after a 20+ year detour, I’m sharing a few stories of working for small publications in the early 90s, on the east coast. Blog title HT… Read More ›
Acting School
She lied about being on the pill for reasons that later became clear. She had bad hair, hair stuck in the 80s, but we were starting the 90s. And then she was diagnosed with a fatal disease, a disease I… Read More ›
If the memoir is a mirror you cracked it (for Alan Turing)
We bunker down between the bands of snow on the radar and the news cycles. The squares on the calendar pages where you get stuck waiting to roll again, to advance. A clipper is coming from the west, to meet… Read More ›
Which is true of anything (for DFW)
It started with the glassy-eyed couple at the lake. They had a dog too. They sounded like they used drugs or lived in Northern California, you could tell by the way they talked. The guy said you can teach a… Read More ›
What little light reflects on the lake
The house had the look of drunks about it, the left behind, random disorder of things not put away, fallen on their sides, not cared for. Light bulbs, plush toys, DVDs all sharing the same shelf by the stereo speaker…. Read More ›
Part-time blogger, full-time ass
I started re-reading Don DeLillo’s White Noise in October, inspired by connections to how our media was handling the Ebola crisis. Ha, ha: look at me! Blogging about Don DeLillo and Ebola! I have a third of the book to… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 