The silhouettes of the horses in the pre-dawn dark look two dimensional. They move at the same pace as me along the lodge pole fencing at the horse farms. Some distant frogs croaking and the din of morning traffic; it’s… Read More ›
Creative Nonfiction
Song for Sober October
I felt so good. Chalk it up to the coffee or a good night’s sleep or just the contentment from sitting alone in the dark by the radio with a candle and a blanket in the morning in fall. Messaging… Read More ›
Meditation on fake body parts
It was really hard to sit in the dark in the early morning and do nothing. Blame it on the coffee but my mind raced. There was an odd peace at that time of day standing in the yard with… Read More ›
Place
I’d visibly gained weight after my trip to Europe. The weight that hangs on the gut in flaps. I was way too proud for all that and felt dirtied by my own excess: bread, butter, cheese, pastries, cake. I got… Read More ›
American Pie
This is the final post in a two-week series of travelogues set in Besigheim, Germany with my mom, Linda Pearse. It’s a queer, ghostly light the moon makes through the fog and the early morning dark. I’m now used to… Read More ›
Last Friday in Germany
Wasn’t forecast to rain but it did and I got caught in it. Sunrise, if you want to call it that, was an hour away still. The cocks still knew the time and croaked as I walked by. Odd to… Read More ›
Copies, backups, forgeries
Once you get into the valley it’s a sea of fog. I take the footpath down by the river through the dark and the moon gets swallowed. The sky looks the way old TV screens looked in the 70s after… Read More ›
On the 18 to Ludwigsburg
The train is always the same and so are the vineyards, the trees just starting to change. Europe holds on to its roots. Once in Florence a guy said to me, in the States you live in the future; we… Read More ›
A form of removal
I wrote to remember but you could never come close. The writing became a form of reliving, a cheap copy. It was the worst kind of navel gazing writing letters to your future selves. But I would sooner err on… Read More ›
Bringing it all back home
The shower at Laurent and Nanou’s isn’t like the ones back home, it’s an exposed clawfoot tub with no shower lining. They keep a squeegee the size of a broomstick beside it to push the water into a central drain…. Read More ›
Bill Pearse 