Read: Newport Journal

Permalink Leave a Comment


Yep, this is how it’s all gonna end. A giant red fireball. Megaton warhead. We melt into a fleshy puddle and then find out our entire solar system is a microspec on some space kid’s snotty pillow. Damnit. All these taxes, taxi rides and stolen credit cards for nothing. No use steering now.
Windblown, out of nowhere, turning the tame, family beach into a Saharan dune fest. The local bar is pumping with the pros. They are there, always. Cheap beer flowing. Dangerously close during conversation, that personal space thing blown out of the water by discounts on tap. Are you ever too old to chug? Apparently not.
That’s it. A decision made. Can’t let another sunset pass without witnessing. It’s just too good. Car doors and bikes, all more beautiful than they should be. Brain smeared by color and direction. Is this a masterpiece? Yes, of course. EVERYTHING is. Just look at the light. Deserted this place. Like a light switch or tourist “faucet” turned from green to red. That’s it. No more tourists for you.


Looking down the boardwalk. Empty parking places. Guitar player and kids on mobile phones missing the world in front of them. Too boring. Too slow. It’s just a sunset. What’s the big deal?

Leave a comment