- I’m wary of sweet things. Sunsets, engagement photos, random acts of kindness, kitten fur. Too many people are seeing sunsets, and this feels dangerous somehow. Like the earth is reaching critical mass. A no-turning-back-now temp, a jet stream collapse. Sunsets are the sign, they’re the Trojan horse. I’ve noticed a high ratio of sunsets to my friend count. At least seven parents sledding with their kids after the record snow. And twelve couples, walking, on an unseasonably nice day. Too many people are similarly aspirational at the exact same moment.
- How many are chugging grease on the couch right now? Or masturbating. Or flossing. Capture that! Sunsets are a filament on full blast, a pulsing red heat that fires up each element on my stove. I used to cook food on the highest heat, before I knew about recipes. I still do, when no one is looking. I can’t wait for shit to heat up.
- I want to carry a little plastic palm tree in my pocket everywhere I go, hold it up to the fucking sunsets, so I can write “Hawaii!” or “Los Angeles!” or “Royal American Cruise!” I will write on the post, “In God’s land. God Bless America.” I will do it. Dare me. I will get 73 likes. Who could trust those colors? Smears of scarlet molting into pert lavender. The sunsets are becoming the friends you love to hate. Thank god, every time you peek, the sunset becomes slightly less attractive until it’s gone.
- I know, I seem crazy. It’s just, shit’s starting to get real. Like when you forget how to spell an easy word and you wonder if this is the beginning of the end, if your mind is finally going.
- These days, it’s hard to get yourself in a situation. You must jump the guardrails, smash all the locks. Your new car hits the brakes when you're not paying attention. A warning message on your stovetop says Cooking Surface Hot. The backspace will clear those ugly sentences, you’ll never send them. All these computer chips telling you what to do, if you listen. You could stay suspended in one single place, if you want. Molded to be safe and tidy and preserved. Like a banana slice in lime Jell-O, a new-age aspic recipe, a dried flower in a resin pendant abandoned on a dresser. You could be an object, just a pretty thing.
