I have a couple of my best friends, my mom, my wife, and a few really good followers who read my blog. Sometimes I look at the statistics and ponder over the most popular posts: should I continue in that… Read More ›
writing
If the world could be a sweater and I could try it on before buying it
Titles are important. Like the name you choose for your child, it should match the expectation you have for what’s inside. You have the responsibility to grant the name, but it’s not yours: it’s the story’s, the child’s. You’re just… Read More ›
Making space for yourself
All the membranes broke out of him, let him write like that, said this. There’s times it makes no sense to make sense of things, just stop thinking and let it be. I made more space inside myself with a pen:… Read More ›
The artist as lion tamer
It’s a gift that can feel like a curse, to feel compelled to do art. It follows me around like a stray expecting to be fed, but won’t come when I call it. It’s the killer whale that drags its… Read More ›
It happens in the eyes
Country roads back East, clouds threatening to meet. I can’t tell you how to get there, but I know each turn. Jim explains the meaning of objects in his garage: the cheap, red bow hung on the wall is the… Read More ›
The difference between asteroids and meteors
Arcade games emerged in the early 80s, right when I was old enough to be interested, but didn’t have enough money to be good at any. In the game Asteroids, you had a small space ship that shot bullets in… Read More ›
Universal Lie Detector
The challenge of daily life, of art, is to be real. It’s the music that sounds like it’s from the heart, coming from a deep place, not motivated by money. It’s what I hear in early records by REM, when… Read More ›
Chasing butterflies
Broken down shed at dusk, looking west. The birds light up the trees and the sky goes pink. I could take a picture now with my phone but it would just be a postcard, and say nothing of my time… Read More ›
The importance of writing
To sit and wait, To set my telescope across the expanse of night and search for sights unseen To sit and wait like some séance, To hush ourselves and give over to the mystic of old science, of witchcraft and… Read More ›
Is the Internet Permanent?
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 ›
Bill Pearse 