Convenience sucks: it’s why we throw so much crap out at Starbucks, at McDonalds. The single-serve American dream of instant gratification. Email thank you notes, Tom Riddle’s diary: “friends” guiding you through a phantom-life with a divining rod, by remote… Read More ›
It was just me and Dawn then, driving out to eastern Washington to a cabin north of Spokane, the one-year anniversary of 9-11. It seemed a peaceful, solemn place to observe it: removed from people, surrounded by overgrown grass fields,… Read More ›
Connecting! I’m on the text now because I got one while I sat at the restaurant across from my kids, coloring. We step outside to take it down, it’s so good. (It’s like we’re here now, but not. I can see… Read More ›
Mix tapes from friends are like photos or letters you save, to take you back in time. Like a letter, they take care to create, and there’s more of the person in the print. Mike mailed tapes to me when… Read More ›
In the mid 90s I didn’t have a computer and had to rent time on a box at an internet cafe on Broadway. It was dark, small and felt sleazy: four or five of us with our backs to each… Read More ›
The plane pivots on its wheels, on the runway, like a cannon butt pointing south. At once we are in the air, lifted, and the sun makes a shadow of our plane on the clouds, a cartoon-plane, and the sun… Read More ›
Phones, bits, bites, chimes, charges. We are covered in them at the airport. What else is there to do?
It is, so why does something you’ve created in print feel more real than online? Is it because a book has more weight and tactile appeal, or is it our framework that tells us that books are more lasting than digital?… Read More ›
The plastic valve is called FlavorLock™. It’s a barely noticeable, plastic disc inside a bag of coffee that lets aromatic gasses out, but prevents oxygen from getting in. I can’t figure out who invented the technology, but it changed everything… Read More ›
Each day I post something here, there’s the possibility it will carry across the world. Sometimes it feels like I’m shaking a snow globe and holding it for a few moments, for passersby to stop and look at. When you… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 