Looking back on your life is like looking out of a plane taking off or touching down. Trying to make out familiar places below, or leave it behind.
Seattle
Longing for home
Like passing through the atmosphere and trying to see outside the plane, but it’s hard to make out anything below or know when we’re going to land.
Blacking out the friction
Of course I remembered the name Dick Boac, he worked at Martin Guitars as an “archivist,” a Falstaff type. But I couldn’t remember anything more about him because he was John’s friend, and John died more than 10 years ago… Read More ›
I wonder why the wind
The most perfect night. Perfect is a superlative, so it can’t be topped. There’s no “more perfect,” or most perfect, it’s fine on its own, it’s perfect. The first really warm day when everything takes on a different feel. The… Read More ›
18th and Union
I was 25 and alone. I didn’t have a car or plans on the weekends. I got up and made coffee and went out for the day.
It doesn’t go out like a lamb
They said everyone needs to work from home and the vibe on my floor was a kind of evacuation mode in slow-mo.
Of fear and fascination
It is way too early in this thing for me to be getting irritable with my kids while we’re stuck at home.
The new normal
It was winter’s last gasp with wet snow in the lowlands and more expected in the mountain passes.
Jaw Rest
I looked up images expecting to see something from Alien.
You never give me your money
Lily, born today and growing up in that little house in West Seattle behind the Sub Shop #9 and the corner bar we never once visited, Chuck and Sally’s.
Bill Pearse 