Tag Archives: William Pearse writer

Hero’s pose

Posted on June 23, 2019 by

We waited and waited but it didn’t seem like the marine layer would ever burn off. Lily had a date with a boy we hadn’t met named Colin, and I texted her to come outside so we could talk. And … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The long descent through the quarry

Posted on June 21, 2019 by

I got down on my hands and knees in the shower with a toothbrush and some baking soda paste. The web site said if the drain had a musty smell that was mold, but if it was more like a … Continue reading →

Posted in Humor, identity, Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Fifty-fifty clown

Posted on June 15, 2019 by

The crow’s wings are magician hands that flap and disappear through the swirl of animal souls and the gray marine layer of morning. The lake is gray too, ribbed by a breeze or by paddle boats, the same each day … Continue reading →

Posted in poetry, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Broken clouds

Posted on June 5, 2019 by

Charlotte starts therapy today at the same time as Lily, which means by late afternoon the three of us will each be talking to different counselors in separate rooms, with Dawn waiting in the lobby with her book. It’s afternoon … Continue reading →

Posted in humor, Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Stopping to pay the toll on the road to self

Posted on June 4, 2019 by

At times there seemed to be so much beauty I couldn’t convey it, and at other times it evaded me for weeks or for months, for what seemed like forever. I sensed a link between my seeing the beauty and … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Moss petting in Portland

Posted on May 26, 2019 by

I went back to Portland, and it was the same as it always was. We got behind the quadriplegic at the neighborhood wine take out and the clerk put her bottles on the back of her buggy in a basket … Continue reading →

Posted in humor, identity, Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Hello and goodbye

Posted on May 16, 2019 by

Everyone wanted to know how my hypnotherapy session went, including me. It took a while to relax because I’d hurried there from work and had to rub my eyes to make the GANTT charts go away. But when the meditation … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 18 Comments