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 ›
Creative Nonfiction
Near adults, just kids
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 ›
The Slider
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
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 ›
Made-up dreams
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 ›
In defense of things
Dawn’s mom Beth is moving out of her house and downsizing to a senior living community. She’s lived in this house since 1982, so it’s a big deal. If memories are like fallen leaves on the ground then the soil… Read More ›
Dreams of being nude
The cat likes drinking out of the faucet and meets me in the bathroom at the same time every morning. She hops onto the sink, rubs the spout with her chin, makes a wet smacking sound as she laps. The… Read More ›
The denuding affair
Once I got rid of all the pine needles and glitter I turned to the exterior and swapped out the multi-colored lights for white. Denuding the house of Christmas was a solemn but energizing affair. But living in the Northwest… Read More ›
Little star
In December of 1987 that second-hand Kashmir coat was already 20 or 30 years old. And I was a budding young punk, an emo, or Goth, I don’t know what. But I’d just turned 17 and discovered cigarettes, and long… Read More ›
Lessons in corporate cruelty
Part 8: Improv Editor’s note: this is the last post in an eight-part series about work-life identity in high-tech America. In the dark on my morning walk I’ll pass by the horse farm on the outskirts of our neighborhood. It’s… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 