When I started this I didn’t know what I was doing, and I still don’t. The first time I got an email that someone was following me, I thought Why? I didn’t understand the tagging and I didn’t know who… Read More ›
blogging
The Stack
Unfinished table by IKEA, manual typewriter, one-bedroom apartment, the stack of pages sitting there as evidence, the same place I eat and drink. The answering machine, pictures of heroes on the wall. Rapping the keys until the bell goes off,… Read More ›
Writers, spiders, and why silence wins
It’s hard to argue with silence. It’s what takes over in elevators and locker rooms when we have nothing to say. It’s where I go if I can’t find what I’m looking for, if nothing comes out when I turn… Read More ›
The end of words: a brief rant on the etymology of the word DEFINE
We spend a lot of time as project managers defining things. We define things so we can put up borders, confine. Define comes from the Old French, to bound, limit, finish. As a writer, I try to use the least… Read More ›
The way is dark
We live in the country. Actually, we live in the suburbs but it’s a small patch that hasn’t been developed yet, so it feels like the country. The first morning of Daylight Savings Time I walked to the end of… Read More ›
Listening to the likes
If you want to write for others, it’s important they like what you write. You can argue they may not know what they like, or you can lead them somewhere new, but in the end, the customer is always right,… Read More ›
Prism
The prism is a piece of cut crystal hung in my window. We bought it at the Jersey shore in the late 70s when I was a little boy. I asked my dad for it when I was going off… Read More ›
Leave the window cracked
Each day I post something here, there’s the possibility it will carry across the world. Sometimes it feels like I’m shaking a snow globe and holding it for a few moments, for passersby to stop and look at. When you… Read More ›
Death is not the end
It’s the only dream I’ve had where I actually die in it. Normally, if I’m being chased by something or I’m falling, I wake up before it’s over, or I find a way out. But this dream ended with the… Read More ›
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 ›
Bill Pearse 