That Easter weekend my girlfriend Marie’s parents were away she stayed home and I lied about where I was going, and went to Marie’s. There’s something about going to work the morning after you’ve lost your virginity that feels invincible,… Read More ›
Memoir
Dumb questions asked in a Dutch smart shop last Easter
The day after I got back from Amsterdam the sun came out and my mom and I took the dog for a walk in the woods in the nearby town Bietigheim, while the kids went to a circus. All the… Read More ›
When you’re lost in the rain in Juarez when it’s Easter time, too
I envied Andrew Gabler for all he had that I didn’t have. He wore name-brand clothes, had chestnut-brown hair that shone, was good looking and built, athletic, played soccer better than I did and wrestled (though I always thought wrestling… Read More ›
‘Are you a real writer?’
I had to wean myself off the pocket notepads I used for more than 20 years. The pocket notepads went in my back pocket and made an outline of themselves like a tin of chewing tobacco. The pocket notepads started… Read More ›
On the Road, with Robert Smith (1987)
God bless my dad, that summer we drove out west and only had three tapes, two of them mine. We took a train from Chicago to Denver where we rented a car and camped around the Rockies, then drove to… Read More ›
“Anthony’s Navel”: pinklightsabre announces Saturday guest post call for content | favorite books, films, music
Last week my friend Anthony sent me a piece he wrote about an R.E.M. album that was important to him and a college radio program he used to listen to, and I thought I’d start a weekly guest post column… Read More ›
Lightning strikes
The work ethic was strong in me then, like the Force. It was a Monday for our checkup on Dawn’s pregnancy. I decided not to go into work, to make breakfast and enjoy time with just the two of us,… Read More ›
Building 37
I’ve now contracted at Microsoft for six months. Today for the first time I had a meeting in a different building. The buildings are numbered; I just had the number but didn’t bother to look up exactly where it was,… Read More ›
In the white room with black curtains near the station
March came and so did the arborist, all of it on its sides sagging down: the trees and shrubs, the lawn, moss taking over but I like the moss, it leaves your outline after you lie in it. We hadn’t… Read More ›
‘The first thing we’ll do is round up all the homosexuals’
My head in the hand sink in the morning under the cold water spigot and now, my chest hanging out in the manner of a woman’s, with the hormonal levels petering out, the muscle tissue gone soft. I did a… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 