When the rain came back it was like an old friend we’d become dependent upon who’s not good for your health but at least you know what to expect from them. It triggered the sameness of gray, of winter in… Read More ›
Memoir
‘Something out of nothing’
On the twenty-first floor of the Grand Hyatt hotel I stood at the window in my bathrobe looking out at the high-rises and cranes above, mountains in the distance and ferryboats, all the people looking back in at us. I… Read More ›
Dead selves cleft off
Though it snowed, it looked like fake snow, like film set snow, as I walked across the grocery store parking lot, past the primroses for sale all covered in plastic. I checked out a curry restaurant on a side strip-mall… Read More ›
The fullness of empty spaces inside us
I sat in the den watching Ginger chew the water buffalo horn, the wash of drool that makes it slick and hard to maw. I scratched the webbing behind my knee that’s been giving me trouble. There was a mild… Read More ›
The Volvo 740 wagon
Likely driven by ego, I volunteered for a new project at work. The announcement I’d be leading it came across as I was sitting in the dealership finalizing the purchase of a new car. The car is a black Mercedes… Read More ›
‘Einmal ist keinmal,’ 2018
There were times I’d walk out into our garage and just stare. Stare at the progress I’d made to restore order which was rare, and worth staring at. The state of the garage is like an ocean beach, the calm… Read More ›
“In the morning there would be no Monday”
Though I didn’t have the heat set high, when I came home the house felt warm. It felt warm with the aroma of life, lived in, of home cooking and freshly washed towels, kids coming of age, house plants, pets…an… Read More ›
Discreet Music | “Letter for 2018,” Jan. 31
Jan. 31, 2018, Hi everyone, we’ve had a pretty good year here so far, we can’t complain. Mark Smith died (my favorite singer), and so did the wall clock in our den. I bought another one on Amazon but it’s… Read More ›
Who’s really sitting around crying now, getting drunk over Mark Smith?
When I moved to Philadelphia in 1995 there was a record store off South Street with an old speaker out front, and the first time I heard “The NWRA” (The North Will Rise Again) it was there, bleating out, getting… Read More ›
Discreet Music (MES edition) | Jan. 24, 18
I’ve lived out here since ’96 and always had a good attitude about the rain, that it’s just November and December which are hard, that by the time you get to January you’re over the hump. Not true! It doesn’t… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 