You could do worse than take C. Dale's lead and look at William Logan's journal for the Foundation. He doesn't like blogs much, but why should blogs be any exception.

Tonight I saw the glow of sunset beyond the shopping center, the sky a steady black declining to the dusty orange that radiated behind the shaggy black outlines of palm trees. That’s northern Florida a month after the equinox, the nights cooling, ladybugs nesting in the window frame, geckos still taking a meal of moths attracted to the lit windows—and the skies so lurid they look painted by color-blind hacks. I’d like to say I was at the shopping center watching the birds, because the retention ponds there attract egrets, ibises, and wood storks. In fact, I was there to see Infamous, a movie so intent on making its points six or seven times, and then making them again (Art is Hard; Art is Very, Very, Hard; You Write a Good Book and Then, and Then You Die!), that I would have paid twice as much if they’d hung Truman Capote along with the two killers.