Wednesday, that day time slows every week, with Lily on a late-start for school, the possibility we could all sleep in until 7:30 but never do, a day I work from home with Charlotte on early release, meaning she gets… Read More ›
SAD
And now, this is what 8 o’clock feels like
In 1994, Bukowski died at 73. It’s hard to imagine we have so many days until we don’t. He said don’t die before you’re dead, hold your head under the water, play the violin. Plant tulips in the rain. But… Read More ›
The 1 o’clock IPA
The day was so dark it hardly felt like the day. The Internet was down again, a desperate feeling over the house, something was off. He talked to the man about a job, talked to him through a text message,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 