Modest Mouse was small then, just three guys from Issaquah. On Tuesdays, a gay bar featured straight acts and it was my first chance to see them, my favorite band. It was cold for Seattle, and we huddled in Mike’s… Read More ›
Seattle
Quoting depressed comedians
We start the 9 o’clock meeting some time after 9 o’clock. I book one of the conference rooms on the north side of the building, the ninth floor, picturesque views of downtown bathed in blue: sky blue, water blue, railroad… Read More ›
Gay weddings, recreational pot
Our state legalized both, this last election cycle. The laws behind gay marriage made sense, but many of us didn’t understand what legalizing recreational pot really meant, until now. Louie and Michael pulled up in an antique Rolls Royce, wearing… Read More ›
Writing about thieves
I take a break from work to walk the uneven alleyway north, downtown. The walk, the street, the faces: they’ve all become a metaphor of the writing process. It’s always the same but a little different if you look carefully… Read More ›
The Life is the Story
I had to give up caffeine because it was giving me anxiety and sleeplessness, and I positioned it as a way to be less of an ass to my family, a kind of sacrifice for them, which was part-true. But… Read More ›
A Near-Life Experience
I drank too much and stopped in 2001, but started again about nine months later. I told my doctor I stopped drinking and when he asked if I was alright I started crying and so he gave me the number… Read More ›
Winter’s Playground
Drinking good wine out of paper cups at the Howard Johnson’s in the mountains, the knocking through the wall could be the neighbors signaling Keep it down, or the neighbors knocking each other around, with the bed frame. We decide… Read More ›
Seaview, 2003
We lived in a 800 square-foot, two bedroom shack in West Seattle built in 1919. You had to go outside to do the laundry, to get to the basement. That was the one drawback because the basement flooded, you had… Read More ›
Post card from the food bank
I volunteered to help Lisa man the diaper station, by the front door. A woman from a mental illness organization gave us a talk before we opened, and another explained the logistics of how it works, warning us that it’s… Read More ›
As I lay dying, lying about death
All the people who work at the bar seem to have part of their brains missing. They’re confused about what’s on tap and always have to check with someone else; I wonder if they’re hungover or just stupid. And that’s… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 