July 11 It’s now been a week since I’ve been eating those chicken thighs I grilled on the Fourth. Somehow no one seems to vibe with my Jamaican jerk chicken. I marinaded it for 36 hours in habaneros, scallions, ginger,… Read More ›
journal writing
The Can
Just a few days past the solstice and already I imagined the morning light had changed. But it was that queer wildfire effect from somewhere making the sunlight pink-gold, all the treetops like a Maxfield Parrish painting psychedelic. I first… Read More ›
Sporting Life
There was the sweetest deer and her fawn that had been coming around the yard. But I didn’t want them munching on Dawn’s lace tree so I sprayed it with coyote urine. I used a lot more than I needed… Read More ›
Bees post
It could just be my imagination but when I taste the honey from Germany it puts me right back in my mom’s house chewing toast and drinking coffee. It’s from our friend Christoph, who tends bees in his back yard…. Read More ›
Deep Charon blues
No one else would eat my cheesecake so I ate it every day, all week. I loved that it was just cream cheese, sugar, flour, eggs and cream. And that it bloated in the oven and turned a deep brown…. Read More ›
Memorial
I wrote to an old blogger friend, commented on his last post from five years ago. He replied, Whatever was inside of me that compelled me to write died. It started to feel like a job. I’ve already got a… Read More ›
Sound check
Charlotte and me sitting in the Elks Lodge in Tacoma enjoying our drinks and the atmosphere when the heavy metal band starts up next door, their sound check. First the drummer, then the guitarist, and last the vocalist whose voice… Read More ›
The Breakfast Club
If you get to the park early enough there’s still an edge to the air and you can imagine some nocturnal creatures stirring in the dark. By late spring when the brush leafs out it starts to fill in the… Read More ›
In bloom
My energy levels seemed a bit manic so rather than reach for my phone first thing in the morning I tried sitting in the dark with no music, just the clocks, and Timmy. Timmy still tries to suckle in moments… Read More ›
Rainbows
As a treat to myself for finishing David Wallace’s difficult book I bought another difficult book, JR by William Gaddis, 760 pages of pure dialogue, a book that influenced Wallace. I’d tried reading Gaddis’s first book but gave up and… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 