Tag Archives: William Pearse writer

‘Here we were’

It was so warm outside I could write with my shirt off in the shade. The maple tree by the sports court looked like one of the figures on Easter Island with its long face, except for the bat house … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Negative space

I had to drink out of the side of my mouth to get the taste of glue out since half of me was still numb. I went back to the dentist, Dr. Chan, the first time in years, with lots … Continue reading

Posted in humor, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

‘Time after time’

My dog is 42, but could still pass for 30. Life in seven year increments, a year at a time. Cork screwing the side of Cougar Mountain, past the Klondike marsh through the damp forest thinking about Orin Smith, former … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Teaching machines to learn cause and effect

The twitch in my eye is the result of an outdated prescription, or from reading too much online at work, I’ve decided. The reading has been on artificial intelligence, training machine models to learn unsupervised through clusters of computers tied … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, technology, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

The night has a thousand eyes

The marine layer was back, and made for a moody start to our Sunday. I climbed the gravel road to the lake past the caterpillars and birdsong, a rustling in the grass and leaves. We all had to go back … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

The Oxford comma

Dawn said there’s a cheaper treatment for lice, where you just put mayonnaise on your head and tie it off in a bag and then wait a couple hours, and they die from the oils. I learned about the Oxford … Continue reading

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

‘Clockwise’

Around this time of day my eye starts to twitch and I have to hold it to make it stop. There’s the old wall clock in the living room that’s slow, needs help keeping up – then the clock in … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 17 Comments