I went back up Tiger Mountain but this time in the dark, walking mostly by moonlight. It takes about an hour to get to the top and it’s a well-groomed trail, though there are some big rocks to watch out… Read More ›
identity
One chance
A bit of a brute, he was often found in the kitchen with his shirt off cooking, peeing in the garden beds or brooding by himself in the early morning dark. Sometimes he smelled. He was a hard man, but… Read More ›
Homestead style
The morning sun was an angry red dot, a burning ball of flame coming through the trees. The sun made the leaves golden pink; it lit everything with a glorious soft tint. All the trees were leaning or bent and… Read More ›
The last time you tried to quit
You will go much further than you ever thought before you stop. You will even think I should quit, and yet you will keep going. You will do it time and again, and then you will say enough, you’ll stop… Read More ›
A new position
Today I’ll say goodbye to the agency I’ve been working with the past five years. Next week I start a new gig with a different company, one that’s woman-owned called Lions & Tigers. All C-level people are women and their… Read More ›
Landscape painting in a dental waiting room
Pale river rock of a moon cool to the touch. A notch someone cut in a log as a bench. What am I and this ego out here in the morning dark? Eno has a painting on a post card… Read More ›
The algorithm remembers
It’s an ungodly hour, 4 am. Even the heat hasn’t come on yet so it’s just me and the coffee maker, the odd mechanical sounds of the house idling. But I love this time in the dark to sit with… Read More ›
The days run away like wild horses over the hills
15 Jan 25 Another sleepless trap, tonight in my mom’s 15th-century house, below freezing outdoors and not much different in. She wasn’t joking about how cold it gets. There’s no heat to speak of that makes it to the bathrooms… Read More ›
LH 491 to Frankfurt
14 Jan 25 Of course it is impossible to fall asleep on a plane like this. My body, my life’s longest friend, is my greatest foe. Bent in on myself, folded askew, I feel everything. The ankle tendon, the lower… Read More ›
It’s more than a feeling
Growing up in the 70s it’s hard to reconcile the kid I was then with the person I am now. A shoebox full of Polaroids and old prints, in the days before smartphones when everyone looks surprised by the camera,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 