So, as I mentioned in this post, I want to try submitting to the Bulwer-Lytton for 2011. The general idea of a pretty amusing sentence came to me the other night when I was trying to go to sleep. I was thinking about the way the sun would find a way to shine in my eyes at the Stone Mountain Highland Games every October, without fail, even though I would wear sunglasses. Then I thought that this kind of thing happened only in October, and then I started thinking about different kinds of sunlight.
The sun shone down on this particular day in July, not in a mid-May way, the kind of sunshine that is clear and happy and piercing and full of that unbridled hope that one usually only encounters in well-lit romantic comedies, and definitely not in a late October, inescapable, nagging, wrapping around your wraparound sunglasses and rendering you as blind as Stevie Wonder way–no, this sun shone in the sort of way that one might expect a sun to shine in Atlanta on July 23 of any given year; in short, it was hot.