Notes from the
End of the World

Each night in 2020 I’m writing a short post because I want to etch these strange days into my memory before I forget them. Before the world changes completely.

June 2, 2020

Curfew

I say hello to an old man with a power drill and a bucket of screws. Everything’s coming so fast and ugly this year.

June 1, 2020

Profane

A news anchor said, “We are descending into something that is not the United States of America tonight.” I’m not sure if this is true.

May 31, 2020

Vacant

The White House went dark tonight in response to the protests across the street and spreading throughout the nation.

May 30, 2020

Dissonance

The presence of the police introduces the prospect of violence like a promise, and that promise came true by nightfall.

May 29, 2020

Pain

A man stood before the crowd of reporters, his eyes filled with pain and conviction.

May 28, 2020

Haze

When I flipped on the news around midnight, my concerns about running, writing, teaching, and everything else felt stupid and indulgent.

May 27, 2020

Accretion

The amount of incense smoke that darkens a temple’s ceiling demonstrates the popularity of that particular god.

May 26, 2020

Market

I’m fantasizing about a sprawling network of night markets and bazaars that reclaim the streets and devour the cars.

May 25, 2020

Memorial

After sixteen hours of talk radio, interstate winds, and screaming into metal boxes for food, my grip on the world grew slippery.

May 24, 2020

Bell

Riffling through my small box of family memories, I came across a note written in an unfamiliar hand.

May 23, 2020

Recursion

Thinking about the blurry line between media consumption and my soul.

May 22, 2020

Time

Time is a concept. Time is a flat circle. Clocks only measure other clocks.

May 21, 2020

Babble

Each morning I wake to the imaginary babble of fully-formed news reports and television clips while skating across sleep.

May 20, 2020

Cracks

I write and work. I step outside and look at the sky. Sometimes I go for an ugly run. I make phone calls. I tend this journal. Repeat.

May 19, 2020

Dark

I remember watching the darkness in my bedroom when I was small, hypnotized by grey-pink flecks while I waited for sleep.

May 18, 2020

Weird

Maybe we’ll have a vaccine soon. Maybe the president will poison himself. Things can go either way these days.

May 17, 2020

Genre

The Chinese takeout spots along First Avenue have pulled up their metal shutters. The florist is open.

May 16, 2020

Symbols

We might remember crouching on the sidewalk, frantically trying to gather the teeth falling from our mouths—not the circumstances that led us there.

May 15, 2020

Grass

We spent a few hours in the park because it’s almost possible to forget this pandemic while hiding in the grass beneath a tree.

May 14, 2020

Mono

An otherworldly landscape of alkaline and soda towers surrounded flat waters without a single ripple.

May 13, 2020

Remember

I’m writing these things down tonight because I want to look back in a few months and see if any of these dire predictions came true.

May 12, 2020

Scramble

Someone down the hall has been practicing “New York, New York” on their piano for the past hour.

May 11, 2020

Next

The triggers for fear are largely universal: loud noises, fast-moving objects, and the sudden loss of orientation. The loss of orientation has been sudden this year.

May 10, 2020

Seeds

I find solace in these instructions from Epictetus: do not say something is lost, only that it is returned.

May 9, 2020

Season

Time feels like an increasingly fictional concept as these weeks and months bleed into one very long day.

May 8, 2020

Opera

“I will create a world from the past,” she said, and she painted an audience on the walls and danced for them every Saturday night.

May 7, 2020

Mystery

“Everything’s a mystery and I’m just another small part of it,” said a woman at a gas station in Barstow.

May 6, 2020

Horizon

It’s becoming a nightly habit: scrolling through desert scenery while fantasizing about horizons, speed, and possibilities.

May 5, 2020

Options

People keep talking about a return to “normal,” as if there’s such a thing.

May 4, 2020

Coherence

My grandmother was tradition personified, a west side Polish Catholic who served Saturday night dinners of kielbasa and fried smelt.

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