All the details of the world when you’re really in it. The guy at the gas station wheeling in the delivery, the small, waking patterns along the seam of morning, how the mind spins and shakes and follows whatever flickers… Read More ›
texting and driving
Texting about drinking, Blogging about texting
I’m 43. I don’t really text. I could, but I don’t, and when I do, it’s pretty lame. Which isn’t much different than when anyone else texts, I think. You look back on the strings and they’re precision details about… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 