Saying I’m unemployed sounds dramatic but I guess it’s true. You go through periods of being unemployed when you work contracts and for me it’s not much of a thing. Since the pandemic, I’ve worked a string of jobs (maybe… Read More ›
creative nonfiction
On a Friday morning in September somewhere
I have come here to see my kid. Air BNB blankets gathered around my legs, the windows cracked. The time different, the sun not yet come up, all my things in the closet or my carry-on. It is different not… Read More ›
The journey to the top is nonstop
I’ve had to run across the airport to catch my plane. I try to be zen about these things but part of me is and part of me isn’t. I know I’m going to make my connection because it’s just… Read More ›
Let go into the mystery
The dark pockets of mom’s old house were something to see. It could be depressing too, how the leaning walls closed in on you. But for a Sunday morning in late August with the rain coming down I was glad… Read More ›
Did you get your disconnection notice?
Funny how it often feels good to disconnect, but then we long to feel connected again. And maybe that’s the combination I’ve found this week reconnecting with my mom and our home here in Germany. Lily went away for a… Read More ›
An apple no worm had found
We took the 14 toward Backnang, past the place I bought a used hatchback one time with Eberhard, Sulzbach an der Merr. And I could still remember the turnoff where Dawn and I took the car for a test drive… Read More ›
Ich genieße es!
In the morning I sat with Eberhard’s cat under the covered patio out back as the trash collectors wound their way up the small roads to the village. He’d built a series of ladders for the cat to climb from… Read More ›
Song for leavin’
It is remarkable to think, the braids of fate that led me here. Up these Roman steps, past prehistoric geckos padding stone. A life of constellations but so often we wander through the dark and can’t connect the dots. Perhaps… Read More ›
New forms of release
The warm crackle of the power lines above the cornfields, up the himmelsleiter to the vineyards. Unscrewing a tight grape from its cluster, spitting the seeds out on the grass. Bathing myself in this new form of decadence sans alcohol,… Read More ›
Cloud Atlas passage
Mom and I walked the trails by the häckselplatz and went to Berne’s at the top of the hill for an alkoholfrei Hefe. I said this is sublime, and then realized with horror the beer was not alkoholfrei (!) though… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 