That last Tuesday in Germany I had two Xanax I’d saved from the flight last summer and took one when I got back from the artist Matthias’s house, found our place a shit-storm of packing and bad energy and realized Dawn… Read More ›
identity
Not just another drop in the ocean
I took the trail to Shy Bear Pass, the same one in the Issaquah Alps I walked with Ginger last spring, before we moved to Germany. I looked down at my legs, the zip-off trekking pants and poles Eberhard had… Read More ›
The universal grind attachment
I told my boss I just wanted to get to a place with my project where it would feel comfortable and he said that may never happen, you might just have to get used to it, and he was right… Read More ›
Rebirth of a shirt
When the undershirt’s worn out, it’s conformed to its owner and lost all likeness of itself then may it be put in the can and forgotten, to know it’s run its course and can return. Let me not grow nostalgic… Read More ›
Trying to get lost in Belfast by foot
Charlotte’s clothes (8) are mismatched the way they might be for the homeless, for function only, stained, holes, slanted — and I’m collecting plastic bags in my pockets for function too, to tie around my shoes as makeshift rubbers or… Read More ›
How it looks from the inside of an Edinburgh flat while reading
The owner comes in to take measurements of the sofa bed that’s broken, apologises, says he assumed we’d be out at the museums on a day like this or seeing the town but we’re not; we’ve come all this way… Read More ›
“All Right Now”
When I started up at my last job, the corporate memos were the same style as a competitor I worked for prior, because the competitor had stolen the Word template and just changed the logo at the top, but kept the… Read More ›
Anyone at all
When the time comes you have nowhere left to go, go back to sleep and forget about things for sleep is like death and won’t come when it’s called – it’s better to sleep without the weight of dreams and wake… Read More ›
Stepping out of the lines
Summer ends so fast here it’s like they’re taking down a theatre set and replacing it with autumn, overnight. Eberhard has a saying, «I’m a man, I fix things» — and he lets the words hang over me like mist,… Read More ›
Coming to terms with the F word
OK, so I failed at my last job. That’s true, at least it is to me, but the word is so hard for some they won’t let me say it — they shake their heads and insist it’s something else,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 