Chocolates with brandy inside, cheese, special cakes from Saxony. Taking pictures of the cats before they took down the tree. The tree, the one mom got the year John was sick and couldn’t come down for Christmas, so she set… Read More ›
stream-of-consciousness
Life Before Fabric Softener (a memoir) | 2
The second entry in my to-be written memoir (v.3)—that starts 20 years ago as I was making plans to move to the south of France, looking after my parents’ house in Pennsylvania. First chapter is here. December, 1997 New Tripoli,… Read More ›
No Christmas in Germany (9 December)
Join me this month for stories of our time here in a small German village where we’re visiting with my mom. I’m experimenting with straight journal-style blogging as a ‘post-a-day’ challenge. Thanks for reading, Bill Got up at 5 again… Read More ›
“Sleep debt snatches”
Join me this month for stories of our time here in a small German village where we’re visiting with my mom. I’m experimenting with straight journal-style blogging as a ‘post-a-day’ challenge. Thanks for reading, Bill Some time around 3 Charlotte… Read More ›
All the best reindeer have Chinese eyes
I stuck my thumbnail up my nose, stepped over the pee stain on the rug, went to the bathroom, wondered how Brad could live here for a whole month and put up with us, and how we live: that pressure… Read More ›
Mondays don’t matter
Headlights trace the curve along the road that leads to the lake, the road we don’t know the name of that changes names every bend three or four times, all of them number-names with no apparent logic, so we just… Read More ›
“Stay”
Probably the last trip up Cougar Mountain for the year. Rained from start to finish, mud in the car now, the smell of wet dog. The trail a mash-up of leaves all brown and yellow, the maples are the last… Read More ›
Light a candle for now
After the wind storm I came downstairs and looked outside. The stars were out, the moon the shape of a hook, it seemed like it was just full. I lit some candles and made coffee. All this going back to… Read More ›
The Fall of 2015 | The Chauffeur’s Flat
We fell asleep with the laptop on watching Bob Ross the painter dragging colors down to form a reflection, shapes along the shorelines in reverse. And I went back to poking a coal of memory, a no-name place in the… Read More ›
Dead souls soliloquy (for Archie Loss)
The cat is all business, can be found in the morning by the garage door flap like a killer in the shadows waiting in the dark for anything trying to get inside. Dawn remarked, there’s mouse innards in the utility… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 