Showing posts with label The Sunset. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Sunset. Show all posts

Sunday, February 20, 2022

Day 2

In one of my last dreams of the night I had a strong feeling it was 1:07 in the afternoon and I felt the requisite guilt of oversleeping, wasting half the day. When I awoke and asked Sara the time it was seven something. I lay in bed awhile trying to remember

A jogger ran past on the beach, winding up and delivering in a cricket bowler’s motion every ten paces or so.


Supply chain disruptions have made odd things scarce. At the supermarket there was no beer in cans. No plain Red Stripe, only apple, melon. Someone told us we’re lucky, they couldn’t find chlorine for the pool until a couple days ago. I lie back under the sun drinking Guinness Foreign Extra, twice the usual ABV. I guess the Irish can’t handle it.


I got up out of the hammock to watch the sunset and caught the three seconds when it goes from a sliver to nothing. 


I finished my short book about the end of the world. 

Monday, April 27, 2015

The sunsets have grown more and more spectacular, it seems. Is it the changing of the seasons? I would not have thought so. Maybe it’s that paradox of our polluted atmosphere, getting worse and worse until we get to watch the exquisite apocalypse in all its glory. In any case, there have been spectacular displays outside our bedroom windows these last few days. Deep pink, blood orange, purple over Jersey, with tiny silhouettes of planes floating in and out of Newark. Golden clouds. Art Deco sunbeams shining down between them. It’s ridiculous. Garish. Except it’s real.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

The Sunset

It was hard to tell at first. Some thought they could. Others shook their heads. No one wanted to believe it.

It's happening right now. Look. Look!

No. No way.

Look again!

Really? That's impossible!

Cars stopped all along the streets. People emerged from restaurants, laundromats and drugstores to crowd the sidewalks and parking lots. Soon everyone was squinting at the sun. It could not be denied. The sky was growing darker.

Awed silence gave way to wails and exclamations.

No. No! No!

Where's it going?

It's getting smaller!

What are we gonna do?


Soon a great crimson band stretched over the horizon. Once-bright clouds hung before it in ashen patches.

"It's going to come back!" someone asserted. "It has to come back!"

"It's coming back!" someone else cried hopefully.

"It's coming back!" others repeated. "It's coming back!"

Yet it did not. In fact it was becoming difficult to see. Familiar objects – trees, trashcans, mailboxes, entire buildings – were drawn into the shadows. It seemed as though the world itself were receding with the sun.

People scrambled chaotically. A man got into his car and drove the wrong way with his door still open. Others smashed into parked cars, fire hydrants, the sides of houses. A cacophony of horns and shouts beat against the encroaching gloom.

Those who made it home huddled in terror with their families, on a couch or under covers. The most intrepid among them tiptoed to the window from time to time. What they saw out there confirmed their deepest dread. It was black as ink.

Many others were lost. They wandered the roads, the fields, the woods. If they chanced upon each other they started with fright; some ran away and some attacked, screaming and clawing madly. Some collapsed into each other's arms and fell to the ground, sobbing inconsolably.

Still others gathered around bonfires and threw in everything they could. They broke into spontaneous chants and dances, guzzled looted booze and fornicated violently, indiscriminately. What else are you supposed to do when you're forsaken by the sun?

When it seemed that hope was forever lost, that damnation was complete, a remarkable thing occurred. The faintest, palest glow emanated from a corner of the sky. The people were benumbed by fear, exhausted by their desperate exertions. Could they trust their senses? Slowly, warily, they arose from where they lay, stepped out of their homes, turned bleary eyes away from the smoldering embers of their fires.

They looked around them. Everything they'd once known emerged anew; raw, frail, wet with dew.

Was it the same world as before?