Len had a lazy eye and was balding, our English teacher. He wrote on the chalkboard and directed us to copy the lines into our notebooks: Behind the hatred there lies a murderous desire for love He didn’t quote the… Read More ›
Memoir
Put things back
I’ve been carrying around this Pendaflex of old writing for years, and yesterday I made the mistake of getting it out. I haven’t read most of it since it was written, dating back to 1992. Once you start, it’s hard… Read More ›
Dan, Dana
I met Dan through Jim, who I met through Chris in the basement of a frat party. Dan made friends with Jim as a regular in the sub-shop, where Jim worked, in Pittsburgh. We all wound up living together along… Read More ›
Rabbit’s Foot
Dan was a friend of a friend, my long-haired friend who played electric bass. He didn’t just have long hair, he had Heavy Metal long hair: wild, dreading in places, unkempt. His hair drew long looks in public, in our… Read More ›
Breach
The answering machine beeped into the dark of the basement. The panel for the security system flashed, indicating a Perimeter Violation in the master bedroom, a faint, high-pitched ring, somewhere. Chumley was freaking out, his claws skittering across the tiles…. Read More ›
Voodoo Doll
Kendra was so beautiful she made me uncomfortable in my house. Even though she was with her boyfriend John, her beauty (and my attraction to her) would prevent us from ever having a normal relationship. They came up from Philly… Read More ›
This Mortal Coil
Chris, Dave and I were wedged into a one-bedroom cottage above a Texaco off Division Street in Ocean City, Maryland. The CD function “Repeat” was still a novelty to us in 1992, and we put the record Blood on by… Read More ›
Spirit Dog and Screw Face
Ben was a Golden who lived on a farm down the road. We called him Spirit Dog because he had to cross the highway to get to our house, and never got hit. Emmet was a mutt who got abandoned… Read More ›
Acceptance
This was supposed to be fun, about the enjoyment of writing. It’s not, when you think about it too much. Yesterday I got to do Yoga for the first time in a couple weeks. She had us do Tree pose… Read More ›
Beginning
The coffee maker is a riot of sound, of gargling: it’s the Fourth of July climax when it sounds off and beeps three times, declaring it’s done. I’ve been through the ritual that starts by the light of the closet,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 