God, listen to Gary Numan. The reason, he puts Punk into it. Punk is hard to define, but worth it. Punk is a nervous, agitated energy. It puts an urgency to things and makes you uncomfortable, when it’s done right…. Read More ›
DPchallenge
The ambivalence of airports
Airports are soul-suckers, They take on the life of their subjects but have none of their own. No one goes to the airport to be at the airport, but airports are necessary like doctors’ offices and hospitals: We all pass… Read More ›
Why art’s hard
There’s found art — but art doesn’t get lost. People do, looking for art. It’s all around us and we all have the ability to make it, but it’s like capturing air in your hands: you can’t tell if you’ve got… Read More ›
Tender flowers underfoot
Warm nights, falling asleep to the fan and the Classical music program, the loving narration of the voice in the radio. The summer’s sad decline: it comes on fast and goes out slow. You might have 20 left, more or… Read More ›
Pain killer
The psychic said I had a violent streak, and looked at me with caution, as if I had done something bad in a former life. I think she said it because I threatened to hit MJ with a hammer, but… Read More ›
Sister
He says Ginger was the same name of the dog who bit him, and gestures at scars around his mouth, on his cheek. He’s got a tattooed cross with his mom’s name, and the years she was alive, something about… Read More ›
The After-Life
We stop at a rest area somewhere west of Ritzville. The girls go to the bathroom, and I take Ginger to the designated Pet Area. It’s starting to cool off, and the light is softening to that golden, early evening… Read More ›
The blanket (sad dream I can’t remember)
I keep the blanket for comfort, and that’s the problem. I carry it on my hips and shoulders, and it clouds my eyes. The clouds block out the light and I can’t see myself when I’m under it. I think… Read More ›
Disconnect me
It was just me and Dawn then, driving out to eastern Washington to a cabin north of Spokane, the one-year anniversary of 9-11. It seemed a peaceful, solemn place to observe it: removed from people, surrounded by overgrown grass fields,… Read More ›
Bean Creek
I felt under my pillow and found a piece of paper Lily put there, with a drawing of me and her, stick-figures, camping. I picked her up at the “Y” when she got off the bus Friday and we headed… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 