I tried to step outside of my name, to look at it objectively. It was a plain name, handed down from my dad—and to him, from his father. It was like all the other things that get handed down, the… Read More ›
identity
It is the right light to be critical
On Tuesday the moon was still up when I walked to the lake in the morning. I was in the slot, now. Like being at the airport on one of those skywalks when you know you’re about to go time… Read More ›
The number 4 airshaft seam to Primrose Mine
I woke at 4, fell back to sleep until 5, then dreamt again and got up. If dreams can be categorized the same as data (unstructured, structured, or semi-structured), then mine qualify as ‘semi-.’ I got to the trailhead early… Read More ›
The letting go, again
Like the dog, I’ve started taking morning naps. One of the things I’ll miss most about contracting is these times, taking walks with the dog during sun breaks or running errands on weekdays, staying on top of the laundry. I… Read More ›
A piece of Richard Brautigan (for Loren)
The cat’s eyes have gone cloudy, or maybe it’s just my imagination. She spends most nights in the garage, which would explain the need for a thicker coat. And in the morning she pulls a pipe cleaner out of the… Read More ›
They know it’s time to go
After 89 days without a good rain it was definitive it would come back Sunday. We were gearing up for the first fire of the season, a stew, some red wine, music. We’d move the patio furniture to the garage,… Read More ›
‘Essence of Cessna’ | on success
Thirty-one years ago the film Pretty in Pink came out. We watched it on Netflix but didn’t remember anything: not Andrew McCarthy’s flickering eyes, nor Molly Ringwald’s quivering lips. Nor the scene with the two of them in a library… Read More ›
The bargaining phase
It was the last of the 8 o’clock sunsets the meteorologist said, so enjoy it. The last until April 16. We went to Chris and Kelly’s for dinner, to spend the night, but couldn’t stay up as late as we… Read More ›
One window ajar, first light on Pine Lake
I sat outside under a tree with King Tubby playing on my Bluetooth speakers and crocosmia fronds tickling the air, the moon a half melon, the whites of my nails. Talked to my dad across the country, the sound of… Read More ›
Falling down days, deep July
A stark, backcountry walk along the roads of Grand Mound, Washington outside Centralia: its claim to fame the halfway point between Seattle and Portland. Across the road from the Great Wolf Lodge resort, a +21 legal weed pop-up called King… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 