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The Sun Magazine

Sy Safransky's Notebook

June 1992

The Map I Was Promised

Things I didn’t get to last week: answering the mail, giving up coffee, saving the planet.

November 1992

WITHOUT A NAME FOR YOU

Bent to the task of reconstruction, this endless need to improve myself, no less intense at forty-seven than at seventeen. My serious plans, shining like new cars on the dusty lot.

June 1993

“If the body’s symptoms are metaphoric, what do the planet’s symptoms tell us? If the rain forests are the lungs, unable to breathe for us? If the ozone layer is our delicate skin? And what of global warming? Our unbridled desire is a fever. Instead of nuclear holocaust, we get to roast on a spit.

March 1995

Just a Moment

The past rushes into the room, breathless, dressed in something outrageous she just threw together. Only the past would show up this way.

July 1995

Where The Wind Comes Sweeping

Right-wing extremists used to despise Communists; now they despise the U.S. government. If the Devil didn’t exist, we’d have to invent him.

December 1995

I keep imagining that someday I’ll get caught up: write those letters, read those books. What a great imagination! My plans smile at me from tomorrow, always tomorrow. And here it is, always today.

October 1997

We live under the shadow of the Holocaust, of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, of the killing fields of Cambodia — but the world does not seem particularly restrained by the memory of these events. Let’s not forget, here on the cusp of the twenty-first century, that new calendars are still made from trees; that the same old ax delivers the blow.

January 1996

The candidate visits early in the morning, when it’s still dark out. We meditate together. He sits beside me while I write. We go running together and lift weights at the Y. We talk about our childhood. We cry, like men. I wonder, All this for one vote?