Tag Archives: William Pearse writer

Down stellar stream

The rain is hypnotic like the static on the black and white TV I used to fall asleep to growing up. it was my first digital-assisted relaxation, when the programming ended and the Star-Spangled Banner played, and then it all … Continue reading

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Call me rapture

All those sweet, heady blooms of spring came back, and outside it was warm and had just rained, it felt clammy and moist, so I got a beer and a lawn chair and collapsed into both. Dawn accumulated three heads … Continue reading

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Outside the frame

I made plans to see friends I hadn’t seen in about 30 years, since high school. I took a Lyft to the bar and sat in a table by the front, and sent one of them a text: Pat fell … Continue reading

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What was left

What was left in Charlotte’s bowl wasn’t worth saving. But I ate it on principle, so it wouldn’t go to waste. And there was an analogy in that, to going back to my hometown for our annual visit, gumming the … Continue reading

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Song for April, the draw down

How the sky draws down, this time of year, when it’s newly spring: there is no urgency to its ending, not like fall or winter: it is the start of the long days of haplessness, the spooling out of light, … Continue reading

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Happiness is easy

Two weeks ago, we went to brunch at the local ale house and I tried to nap before going to the airport. In a moment of clarity, Lily deleted all the data on her phone and gave it to Charlotte, … Continue reading

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Real time

Probably the most comforting thing I could do was drink in bed. When I quit drinking I wrote a list of all the things I pledged I wouldn’t do when I started drinking again and one of the top 3 … Continue reading

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