Friday, August 8, 2014

Week in Seven Words #222 & 223

222

disconnect
A couple in the park: Man and woman strolling, he pontificates, gestures broadly, makes authoritative pronouncements about things he only half-knows at best, while the woman nods, murmurs, surreptitiously checks her phone.

faerie
The enchantment of pink blossoms floating around your head.

patchy
Blonde willows and raggedy weeds by the pond.

pistons
I understand the enjoyment people get from running, but not from jogging. Running can give you a feeling of freeness. Jogging has always struck me as mechanical, like you're a machine pumping up and down.

shocked
The park is artificial, so the lakes can be drained or filled at will. The fish might be stunned out of their habitual routes and find themselves on their sides, eyeing a terrible sun.

tableau
Facing north, heads uplifted, four turtles frozen on a sunny rock.

treble
And there he is again: The half-naked man, kneeling in the tunnel and playing the violin.


223

crackled
Street fair: Searing heat, grease, a sound system that shreds each voice that comes through it.

high-strung
Kids colliding in a bouncy castle as the parents hover outside, shouting warnings through the netted windows.

porousness
She steps on something and then inspects the bottom of her feet for holes. The possibility that a big hole has opened up bloodlessly on the bottom of her foot fascinates her.

soliloquize
That ridiculous and exasperating moment when you realize you'd been delivering a monologue to your computer's voice recognition software, and the microphone was off.

solitary
Each person in the room is in a mental prison. Sometimes sunlight comes in through the bars on the window, and they can imagine what it's like to be happy.

unsocialized
A clobbering, slobbering little kid.

vessel
I have one ear for her, and one ear for him, and they pour their grievances into each of my ears, because they can't bring themselves to talk to each other. And because they secretly hope I'll do the talking for them. I don't. (Not usually.)

4 comments:

Naida said...

You've captured disconnect perfectly. And unfortunately I can relate to 'vessel'. Great words as always. Happy weekend!

Relyn Lawson said...

Solitary makes me sad, so sad.

You really do have a gift for this. I don't know anyone who can write a scene in such a spare, gorgeous style. Maybe you should try writing one act plays? I think you would be grand at it.

HKatz said...

@ Naida - thanks, I hope you had a good weekend too. Yeah, 'vessel' can be tiresome.

@ Relyn - Thanks so much. I wrote some one-act plays years ago; maybe I'll return to them.

Yvonne@fiction-books said...

Hi Hila,

I can relate to your take on 'solitary' so well, although a little more sunlight would be good right now!

Since becoming a live organ donor for his wife, my brother has, at 50, discovered a love of running, which whilst I don't share, I can fully appreciate. he says that he feels a sense of freedom and can think more clearly whilst he is running, (although not when he is busy being taken out by small dogs, miles ahead of their owners on those silly extendable leads! The resulting cuts and bruises were not part of his hoped for freedom!)

I think that most of the world is disconnected these days. The art of conversation has died, with everyone constantly attached to their phones and tablets. These solitary beasts have also decided that they don't need to look where they are going when out in public, as others can see that they are busy with their keyboard and should give them a wide berth!

Great words as always,

Yvonne