William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose.
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Recent Posts
- Hello and goodbye May 16, 2019
- Plumbing May 7, 2019
- That last Friday in April April 26, 2019
- The first death April 25, 2019
- Down stellar stream April 19, 2019
People’s Poet
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Lost in the clouds
- addiction
- aging
- Anti-Technology Dystopic Riff
- art
- autumn poetry
- blogging
- Bob Dylan
- cats
- christmas
- coming of age
- corporate america
- creative non-fiction
- creative nonfiction
- death
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- DPchallenge
- European travel
- existentialism
- expats
- family
- field notes from the pacific coast
- France
- German culture
- Germany
- hiking
- humor
- identity
- inspiration
- isolation
- James Joyce
- John Pearse
- journal writing
- life
- mark kozelek
- Memoir
- mid-life crisis
- mindfulness
- Mountaineering
- Music
- NaNoWriMo
- nature
- nostalgia
- pacific northwest
- parenting
- poem
- poetry
- Portland
- postaday
- Project management
- prose
- Scotland
- Seattle
- sentiment
- sentimentality
- Seth Godin
- short form
- social media
- spirituality
- Starbucks
- stream-of-consciousness
- suburbs
- technology
- the nature of art
- travel
- traveling with kids
- William Pearse writer
- Wordpress
- work
- work-life balance
- work identity
- writers block
- writing
- writing process
- writing technique
- yoga
THIS WAS UNCALLED FOR
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Tag Archives: meta-fiction
The inner rings of meta-ness, Inverness
Monday. Put on a new shirt, examined the tick bite for a ring, realised we have too much stuff. Is there any point to unpacking it, to let it breathe? Seems all this packing is an emotional thing. Carrying more … Continue reading →
Posted in travel, writing
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Tagged blogging, drinking, expats, John Barth, Loch Ness monster, Lost in the Funhouse, meta-fiction, Narcissus, Scotch, Scottish Highlands, Seattle, traveling in Scotland, traveling with kids, writing
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13 Comments
What happened to Brown
Brown didn’t really like baseball, but played in the Major League. He was white, had a mustache, and a pretty good build, for 40. He played outfield, which wasn’t the best, but still pretty good. Brown kept to himself mainly, … Continue reading →
Posted in Fiction
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Tagged Alphabet City, anti-story, drug addiction, edgar allan poe, existentialism, Fiction, Literature, meta-fiction, New York City, nouveau roman, owls, Paul Auster, short story, solipsism, writing
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6 Comments
