The girls are in the bedroom with the sun washed over them, mouths slung open. The water here is either too hard or soft, it’s hard to make a lather. I’ve been up more than 24 hours flying, eating, drinking,… Read More ›
James Joyce
The Art of Make Believe (#mywritingprocess)
It’s true, writers like nothing more than to write about writing, to postpone the real work (of writing). And like the game of golf, you get lucky with a few strokes and then spend the rest of your life thinking… Read More ›
The Notes Between The Keys
I spent the last year here rebuilding my confidence as a writer, forcing myself to see my life as noteworthy every day, gathering inspiration. I didn’t know what I was doing, and half-hoped the sheer pursuit of a Broken Down… Read More ›
Suburban alternatives (2)
Dawn thinks Ruby has an enflamed rectum, which starts when she makes skid marks across the carpet with her rear-end. We hold her over the sink in the laundry room and run the water over her fur, I can feel… Read More ›
Dead skin diary
I remembered the kitchen sink was clogged, and knew I couldn’t sleep in, I had to fix it. I don’t know anything about plumbing and was lucky to even find a wrench. I got it apart and emptied the dirty… Read More ›
When I’m there I’m not
Connecting! I’m on the text now because I got one while I sat at the restaurant across from my kids, coloring. We step outside to take it down, it’s so good. (It’s like we’re here now, but not. I can see… Read More ›
Flirting with the banal
James Joyce can describe a commonplace train commute as something wondrous. Shouldn’t it be? You can take pictures of trees and rocks or write poems about them. There aren’t special glasses for artists, though. You have to find the fruit… Read More ›
Getting out of the labyrinth: Trying to finish Portrait so I can get on with my life
I thought it would be a good idea to do this again, to read James Joyces’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. But instead, I’ve gotten wrapped around the axle with the author, his conflicts with the… Read More ›
Moss-Petting in Portland
I love making fun of Portland. And I love making fun of my friend, Loren. Since Loren lives in Portland now I get to make fun of them both. I caught a bus down there last weekend, to treat Loren… Read More ›
On Memoirs, Getting Lost in the Labyrinth
I’ve gone back to A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man for inspiration, this year. As I suffer through the exfoliation phase of writing and the need to purge my life through memoirs, I hope it will lead… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 