Mom and I got down to the bar at 3 o’clock and ordered a boulevardier. I would have asked for an Old Pal but didn’t want to sound pretentious. We then walked up to the steakhouse so we could get… Read More ›
pacific northwest
Refraction (- – – — — — – – -)
Charlotte and I tried to play Scrabble but got frustrated, and dumped all the tiles back in the box. The best we came up with was Mosaic and Pirana, Pirana hers, not exactly right, needing an H or a symbol… Read More ›
The stress-free Christmas tree erection
No holiday satisfies or disappoints quite like Christmas. In the Pacific Northwest, December is a dark, charmless month. This year, I announced November as scotch month and December, the month of brandy. The month of all things “ch,”—cheese, chocolate, champagne—a… Read More ›
Nice light from not much light
I went looking for the Jerry Garcia carving in the cutout by the lower greens, on the Halsey side, like the guy said. But it was foggy and damp, and what looked like Jerry on the other side of the… Read More ›
Inside a broken clock splashing the wine with all the rain dogs
The rain now is that rain we associate as November rain in the Northwest. It has its own aspect, like no other. It is not a rain to be fucked with, and comes on hard and fouls up the roads,… Read More ›
‘Theft by finding’
Sure, I was still the same but my face was starting to look smudged in those new photos where I looked older. The forehead exposed, the jaw gone slack, the eyes hollowed out and the skin, less color to it…. Read More ›
Ham on rye
In the lobby at the recreational cannabis dispensary they were putting up a Christmas tree, and in the shop where a sign says Enter Here and Pay Here everyone looked confused, and I asked about the CBD vs. THC combination,… Read More ›
Poem | ‘The remains’
How dim the light in the morning through the last brown leaves And the look of the limbs curled inwards, slumped low How soft the heater blows those long, solemn notes Like the sound of a car scraping down an… Read More ›
The rhythm of trees falling down
Twelve days in a row writing the same marketing copy for a project we started in July that was supposed to end in September. Sitting at my desk in the bedroom while the sun set reading it a final time… Read More ›
‘The pink opaque’
Surprisingly, all the muscle I once had in my chest has loosened and now feels like a boob when I cup it in my hands. The kids lost or broke all the cell phone chargers, so we ordered more from… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 