Friday, April 25, 2014

Week in Seven Words #212 & 213


A young tree strait-jacketed by ice.

In black and white film: the grace of a ballerina and the grip of polio.

A snow drift has swallowed up another small business.

Sinking a fork into a marble chocolate cheesecake.

It's scary when you realize how much other people have staked their happiness on you, convincing you along the way that you're responsible for their moods.

This is the dynamic at the table: there are those who can do no wrong, those who can do nothing right, and those who are judged right or wrong without consistency, based on how their hair looks at a given moment or on what shirt they picked out to wear.

Sometimes at a restaurant the best moment is when the food just arrives. It looks delicious. At that moment, you think there can be nothing wrong with it.

Friday, April 11, 2014

A sunny walk along the Hudson River on Manhattan's west side

Last Sunday was a gorgeous day. Sunny, warm for several hours, with a spring-like feeling (finally). I joined an organized group walk of several miles that made its way along the Hudson River from Manhattan's 79th Street Boat Basin to the South Ferry station at the southern tip of the island.

We begin with the Boat Basin off of Riverside Park.


Then head south. The landscape still looks mostly like kindling. But the weather is wonderful.


On Riverside South, which is the Hudson shoreline between 72nd and 59th streets, there are interesting finds, like the remnants of the New York Central Railroad transfer bridge, which had been built in the early 1900s to take train cars across the river to New Jersey.


There's also art on display.


Further south at Pier 96 on 55th street, there's a giant wine bottle, and in it a replica of a Queen Mary state room. This is Malcolm Cochran's sculpture, "Private Passage."


Looking at it at the time, I thought it was a cross between a bottle and a submarine, and that it tries to capture some of the romance of messages traveling by bottle, only there would be people in this one instead. It has a strong sci-fi vibe.

Friday, April 4, 2014

Week in Seven Words #210 & 211


He drinks in picture books.

I doubt the teacher will care what she writes. The requirements are a neatly typed page. The contents, which amount to some painful regurgitations about the leather-making process, will pass muster.

The lake water exists in different states. The ice is puckered; at the edges it's darkened, as if crisped. The remains of a tree rear up from the ashy ice and slush.

Childhood has become remote to him. It's a phase portrayed in books. He was always an adult.

A landscape of rocks, ice and petrified trees.

I'd like to stretch my legs and stride.

Beneath a sheet of ice, the water sings.


He won't examine the things he fears. He pretends he has no fears and is contemptuous when other people are afraid.

Does she feel like a Mr. Goodbar among the Godiva truffles?

When using henna, I feel like there's a greenhouse on my head. An earthy odor, moisture, bits of herbs clinging to my scalp.

When they were younger, they liked what they liked without looking to other people to see what they should like.

In Act I, the stage is draped in a decadent red. Act II is full of gold and champagne. That lasts until the third act with its blue and gray bars of shadow.

It's a brilliant cold night, and the lights are bouncing off the black reflection pool.

I watch her enjoying the music and think that this is what she could be, more often: contented, engaged, and full of delight.