Thanksgiving falls so late this year, it’s like two dinner guests turning up at the same time who shouldn’t, making things awkward. Neighbors were out putting up lights before Thanksgiving even started, and I found myself doing the same. The… Read More ›
Memoir
Maps aren’t routes, just destinations
We sat Indian style in the dorm room listening to a band called Fugazi. We took it seriously; we were on to something. I read H.P. Lovecraft and woke from dreams about hidden passageways beneath my bed. Summer, 1990: surrounded… Read More ›
What happened in the middle
I’m happy for November because it’s the one year anniversary since I started writing again. It’s not what I’m writing that makes me happy, but the fact I’m doing it, and it’s changed the way I look at life. Last… Read More ›
Sunbreak
Unsteady steps on a Saturday, counting the days down. Sunday’s trash night. Monday’s swimming, Tuesday’s soccer. I’ve grown to hate the pedestrians out here. Everything about the west coast I love but it’s the pedestrians, the way they gloat, the… Read More ›
The Sponge Factory Diary
Pepé told us about The Sponge Factory before we moved to Philadelphia. I made the call, and we met the building manager at the door. She had a parrot on her shoulder, and wasn’t wearing a bra. We got in… Read More ›
It’s better to be sweet than to be bright
Roxy’s not that smart. Her name is Roxy, she’s a cat, sister to the other one. She stands in the light of the laundry room while I feed Ruby, quarter to six. She stands there looking at me while the… Read More ›
Brands, people, Starbucks
Brands aspire to elevate people to a positive emotional state. But the word brand itself is cold, distant, transactional. It’s the people with the logo on their shirt that make or break it. The bright people in the corporate office… Read More ›
The Life Transfer
I wasn’t sure I wanted to have kids. It wasn’t one of those things on my list. But when Dawn and I got pregnant and I found out at the bus stop, I felt it inside me too, and I… Read More ›
A Golden Retriever called America
Two grandparents with their daughter and a chunky Golden, with a white beard and a smile in her eyes. They named the dog America, born on 9/11. The grand-daughter wasn’t alive yet. The dog’s 100 in dog years, has lived… Read More ›
What’s true
Sometimes, people will forgive what’s true. Even if it’s not good, not right, it’s true. That’s what comes in to play when you hear music that’s real, it sings of its own accord. It hovers above the Plane of Attachment,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 