Notes from the End of a World
Each night in 2020 I wrote a short post because I wanted to etch these strange days into my memory before I forget them. Before the world changed completely. And 2020 delivered more than anyone could have bargained for.
Each night in 2020 I wrote a short post because I wanted to etch these strange days into my memory before I forget them. Before the world changed completely. And 2020 delivered more than anyone could have bargained for.
Equinox
We’re standing on the verge of an uneasy fall, unsure of just how high the curve will go.
Plaza
A modern marvel where you can eat fast food on top of eight lanes of freeway traffic.
Closer
Last bonfire before we return to the city.
Spectrum
There’s a problem with modern grief, a rupture that cannot be filled with squishy words like mindfulness and acceptance.
Process
Looking at the state of the world today, perhaps we need more architectural details designed to scare away demons.
Behalf
Five thousand years ago we began outsourcing prayer and devotion to statues that would worship on our behalf.
Encounter
The deer didn’t seem alarmed by my presence. It just watched me while munching some foliage.
Simple
Like painting legs on a snake. My in-laws taught me this Chinese idiom, a scold against unnecessary embellishment.
Falling
Sometimes I fall asleep thinking about the ancient atomists.
Water
This has been a year of references to plague novels and the dystopian skies of science fiction.
Superstore
My breath catches in the existential and super-saturated detergent aisle: All. Era. Gain. Cheer. Bold.
Nineteen
Nineteen years ago but it still feels like it was just the other day.
Deer
I’m not sure if I believe in symbols or signs, but today gave me plenty to decipher.
Smoke
I’d always thought the future was just around the corner, but it’s already here.
Pearl
They walked around caked in mud with lice in their hair, which they called the “pearls of god.”
Thunder
Why is the sound of thunder so soothing?
Kindling
There’s that principle that we burn up all available time to complete a task—and this gets scary when measured in years.
Beauty
“Beauty is remembering the sad times without crying,” said one girl, who at fifteen years old was already so wise it broke my heart.
Howl
This election will test much cruelty Americans will tolerate, and how many of us crave it.
Radioactive
As I scrolled through the radio dial in search of voices to keep me company, I began to understand the appeal of its doomsday preachers and fear-merchants.
Swerve
Perhaps the best work scrambles genre and rides strange lines that might swerve at any moment.
Hex
Demons and hexes would nicely explain why some people behave the way they do.
Loose
It’s always good for me to be reminded that writing is a physical act.
Burn
I’m chilled by how quickly phrases like “the other side” have become so natural. Because that’s the grammar of war.
Channel
To erase the “I” and stand outside of time, writing like a ghost.
Monochrome
I wonder if there’s anything to learn from my recent drift towards color and my desire to return to monochrome.
Stimuli
He said, “The president recognizes the best way to restore normalcy to people’s lives is to bring back entertainment options.”
Weather
I switch the channel and a meteorologist says, “Just behind this vortex is a wall of water getting ready to surge.”
Untethered
Then the First Lady stood in the Rose Garden and lectured us about civility while her husband smirked.
Observance
Tonight I sat outside in the unfamiliar terrain of southeastern Ohio, lit a candle, and watched the stars.
Pegasus
First memories are such peculiar creatures, these fuzzy impressions and garbled snapshots that teach us how to see the world.
Scan
For a glimpse into the brainpan of America, you can’t beat late-night AM radio.
Sunset
Heading west on Interstate 70, there’s a beautiful sunset and it’ll have to do for tonight.
Machine
An empathy machine sounds like a pretty good leader right now.
Signs
Somewhere in southeastern Ohio, I drove past two ranch houses sitting side by side with tidy sidewalks and neatly mowed lawns.
Jeremiad
A woman at the supermarket kept making a noise I could not decipher.
Convention
Somewhere north of Columbus, we tuned in to the first night of the Democratic National Convention.
Grind
The body remembers slowly and forgets very quickly.
Tornado
Maybe it was the barometer dropping, the rearrangement of air pressure.
Buzz
We’ve entered the last stretch of summer when everything is overripe and so green it feels obscene.
Lot
An old man pushes a shopping car filled with metal scrap and hollers about demons.
Desk
By now I should know the only way to outrun my bullshit is to keep writing.
Puzzle
It’s an exhausting puzzle, trying to figure out which parts of this world to let into your head.
Bullet
Three days without television or constant internet access—unless I drive twenty minutes to sit in the parking lot of a Speedway gas station.
Logs
The cabin smells like cedar. There is no internet here. No cellphone reception either.
Cave
Americans of all kinds gathered together to admire their country’s geological features. All is not lost.
Road
I still remember the frantic voice of a late-night caller who said, “We can’t get the blood out of our eyes fast enough to see what’s coming next.”
Pack
We’re packing for a trip of indeterminate length.
Decay
Lately my dreams have been all garble and grime without symbolism or plot.
Debris
Maybe human brains aren’t equipped for this, absorbing painful images from everywhere at once without the ability to be present and act.