arachnid
The art installation is a spider-like creature risen from a shallow pool, its skinny legs dimpling the water.
bonding
It's amazing to discover a rapport with someone who's different in many ways. We have a low-key, comfortable relationship.
burst
With a roar, the boy charges at the pigeons. After they scatter, he wanders away looking confused, as if suffering from a loss of purpose.
connected
In a hoarse voice, he talks about the 1960s, and at first I don't see the point in what he's saying and why it's relevant to the discussion. Then I get it, as he describes what he calls the fight for the nation's identity. He's tying it to his personal fight, to the risks he's taken to find his own identity – not a set of labels to fix to himself, but discoveries unearthed from a torn up landscape.
humans
At the square, over a dozen people roller-skate in formation, past a guy with a "Jesus loves you!" placard fixed to his chest. Near him, another guy sits on the steps in small sweatpants, his pale ass spilling out. A group of Buddhist monks (or men dressed as monks) burn incense and press flyers onto people. The farmer's market is packing up to the sound of skateboards cracking against the pavement. Homeless people lie on their sides on benches, socks out, looking exhausted.
neologisms
The three of us play Quicktionary and can barely speak sometimes because of how hard we're laughing.
versions
The baby is delighted to look at my photo, but regards the real-life version with caution.
Showing posts with label connection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label connection. Show all posts
Sunday, October 28, 2018
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Five Short Stories for the Winter Holidays
With one exception, none of these is specific to the holiday season, but they explore themes associated with this time of year.
Title: A Christmas Memory
Author: Truman Capote
Where I Read It: It appeared at the end of an edition of Breakfast at Tiffany's
This story aches with love and separation. A young boy and an elderly female relative who's a bit childlike and eccentric are pals in a house where they're both overlooked. Their friendship won't last for long before they go separate ways in life, but Capote infuses the story with rich details that makes their relationship timeless in memory. Mostly, it's the two of them preparing for Christmas. Here's a walk through the woods:
Title: A Christmas Memory
Author: Truman Capote
Where I Read It: It appeared at the end of an edition of Breakfast at Tiffany's
This story aches with love and separation. A young boy and an elderly female relative who's a bit childlike and eccentric are pals in a house where they're both overlooked. Their friendship won't last for long before they go separate ways in life, but Capote infuses the story with rich details that makes their relationship timeless in memory. Mostly, it's the two of them preparing for Christmas. Here's a walk through the woods:
A mile more: of chastising thorns, burs and briers that catch at our clothes; of rusty pine needles brilliant with gaudy fungus and molten feathers... Always, the path unwinds through lemony sun pools and pitch vine tunnels.And making fruitcakes:
Eggbeaters whirl, spoons spin round in bowls of butter and sugar, vanilla sweetens the air, ginger spices it; melting, nose-tingling odors saturate the kitchen, suffuse the house, drift out to the world on puffs of chimney smoke.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Week in Seven Words #214 & 215
214
encrusted
Thoughts of taxes are like barnacles I want to scrape off of my brain.
fancies
One of those wild days when we talk about ideas for hours. I feel closest to him then.
overbooked
He trudges along in his karate uniform, with a violin in one hand and a tennis racket slung over his shoulder.
parts
I'm an ear, and she's a mouth.
price
Having a ready-made role to step into can be a relief, but what are you sacrificing for the extra comfort?
quailing
Their arrogance keeps them from confronting the fears that have hollowed them out.
yoked
This is the arrangement they've come up with: He's cut down on his leisure time, and she's compromised her dignity.
215
blank
For years, he hasn't dared to dream about anything.
chemistry
There are fascinating stories behind each element on the table.
dainties
Three small identical dogs, leashed to a bike rack, peer into the bakery that promises so many treats.
microscopic
Toddlers want to go at their own pace, examining sidewalk cracks and clods of dirt, and not just be tugged along all the time.
secure
Throwing pebbles, a child tries to knock birds out of a tree. Some twigs crackle, but the birds stick around.
unwasteful
With his finger, chasing the last of the whipped cream in the paper cup.
wavering
He continues to tip his chair back, frightened but excited about the moment of reckoning: a mastery of balance or a humiliating fall.
encrusted
Thoughts of taxes are like barnacles I want to scrape off of my brain.
fancies
One of those wild days when we talk about ideas for hours. I feel closest to him then.
overbooked
He trudges along in his karate uniform, with a violin in one hand and a tennis racket slung over his shoulder.
parts
I'm an ear, and she's a mouth.
price
Having a ready-made role to step into can be a relief, but what are you sacrificing for the extra comfort?
quailing
Their arrogance keeps them from confronting the fears that have hollowed them out.
yoked
This is the arrangement they've come up with: He's cut down on his leisure time, and she's compromised her dignity.
215
blank
For years, he hasn't dared to dream about anything.
chemistry
There are fascinating stories behind each element on the table.
dainties
Three small identical dogs, leashed to a bike rack, peer into the bakery that promises so many treats.
microscopic
Toddlers want to go at their own pace, examining sidewalk cracks and clods of dirt, and not just be tugged along all the time.
secure
Throwing pebbles, a child tries to knock birds out of a tree. Some twigs crackle, but the birds stick around.
unwasteful
With his finger, chasing the last of the whipped cream in the paper cup.
wavering
He continues to tip his chair back, frightened but excited about the moment of reckoning: a mastery of balance or a humiliating fall.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Week in Seven Words #108
banality
Online dating has been mostly a bore so far. When you meet people in person you experience them as the complex 3D creatures they are, and not as small photos supplemented with the same descriptions over and over - "intelligent, fun-loving, one-of-a-kind" - like personal ads in a Lake Wobegon newspaper.
fulcrum
Time has to be balanced in your mind so that you don't tip too much into the future or sink too frequently into the past.
indurated
In the night my thoughts are cold black diamonds.
reaching
I talk into the phone, knowing that he's there at the other end even though I can't hear him.
second-rate
Sometimes you look back on your week to find that one of your prominent memories involves a pitched battle with a backed-up toilet. Oh well.
slipping
When I'm feeling low about my writing I think of the words as weak magnets sliding down the front of a fridge.
sussing
At the library I spot a DVD Whisperer. He caresses their spines and speaks to each one - "Should I watch you tonight? Or you?" - then cocks his head and listens for the answer.
Online dating has been mostly a bore so far. When you meet people in person you experience them as the complex 3D creatures they are, and not as small photos supplemented with the same descriptions over and over - "intelligent, fun-loving, one-of-a-kind" - like personal ads in a Lake Wobegon newspaper.
fulcrum
Time has to be balanced in your mind so that you don't tip too much into the future or sink too frequently into the past.
indurated
In the night my thoughts are cold black diamonds.
reaching
I talk into the phone, knowing that he's there at the other end even though I can't hear him.
second-rate
Sometimes you look back on your week to find that one of your prominent memories involves a pitched battle with a backed-up toilet. Oh well.
slipping
When I'm feeling low about my writing I think of the words as weak magnets sliding down the front of a fridge.
sussing
At the library I spot a DVD Whisperer. He caresses their spines and speaks to each one - "Should I watch you tonight? Or you?" - then cocks his head and listens for the answer.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Week in Seven Words #80
all-purpose
When in doubt, buy them a gift card for a book store.
assurance
I half-expect an angry email. Instead I get concern, what sounds like a willingness to understand. I'm surprised. Years ago it would have been different. I wish I had possessed the confidence and faith to speak sooner.
clunky
Sitting on the floor gives me a strange perspective of the table and its unsteady piles of intermingled books, papers, notebooks, and journals. A water bottle looks like an alien totem, and the lamp towers solemnly over the laptop. Everything seems large and somewhat foolish, like children's toys meant to be tossed around and banged up.
curdled
No matter how many papers I go through, by the end of the day I'm no closer to having it figured out.
dovelike
The reading of the Book of Lamentations starts unexpectedly from a soft-spoken man at the back of the shul.
forbearing
About an hour before the fast ends, I start getting distracted with thoughts of food. My stomach isn't rumbling, but there's an odd clench to it, as if it's disgruntled but too polite to whine.
maquis
I feel like I should have learned about Nancy Wake prior to her death at age 98. She hasn't passed unnoticed, but she and others like her ought to be better known.
When in doubt, buy them a gift card for a book store.
assurance
I half-expect an angry email. Instead I get concern, what sounds like a willingness to understand. I'm surprised. Years ago it would have been different. I wish I had possessed the confidence and faith to speak sooner.
clunky
Sitting on the floor gives me a strange perspective of the table and its unsteady piles of intermingled books, papers, notebooks, and journals. A water bottle looks like an alien totem, and the lamp towers solemnly over the laptop. Everything seems large and somewhat foolish, like children's toys meant to be tossed around and banged up.
curdled
No matter how many papers I go through, by the end of the day I'm no closer to having it figured out.
dovelike
The reading of the Book of Lamentations starts unexpectedly from a soft-spoken man at the back of the shul.
forbearing
About an hour before the fast ends, I start getting distracted with thoughts of food. My stomach isn't rumbling, but there's an odd clench to it, as if it's disgruntled but too polite to whine.
maquis
I feel like I should have learned about Nancy Wake prior to her death at age 98. She hasn't passed unnoticed, but she and others like her ought to be better known.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Week in Seven Words #79
chord
I love hearing people talk about a piece of writing that got to them in some way, whether they like it or not; the passion in their analysis is beautiful.
eyrie
The children's section of the bookstore is full of possibility and vision. Richly illustrated picture books show moonlit skies, animals reveling in meadows, wizards roaming the woods with wands flashing. The walls sing with color. It's sequestered from the rest of the store, a world apart from the blander adult aisles, the racks of sweatshirts and wrinkled magazines.
goodwill
I like this stretch of neighborhood, especially in the morning hours. On one side of the street there are trees and a branch of the public library; on the other side there's a post office, bookstore, and a smattering of tables beneath an awning. The day isn't too hot yet, people look pleasant and determined, and there are no lines at the post office.
planner
She buys me an 18-month planner. It has a pale green cover with gold butterflies and scrolling leaves.
reroute
On the phone she blocks me out, so I resort to email. For several minutes I type, explaining what it is I feel and why it is I need to be heard, a claim to attention I rarely make; and after checking that the words aren't angry or hurtful, but just too firm to ignore, I send it off instead of saving it as a draft that will never see the light of day.
rustle
The other room hums quietly with the T.V., with her footsteps, drawers opening and sliding shut. The place doesn't feel like a vacant shell.
tar
My fingers on the keys feel coated in it.
I love hearing people talk about a piece of writing that got to them in some way, whether they like it or not; the passion in their analysis is beautiful.
eyrie
The children's section of the bookstore is full of possibility and vision. Richly illustrated picture books show moonlit skies, animals reveling in meadows, wizards roaming the woods with wands flashing. The walls sing with color. It's sequestered from the rest of the store, a world apart from the blander adult aisles, the racks of sweatshirts and wrinkled magazines.
goodwill
I like this stretch of neighborhood, especially in the morning hours. On one side of the street there are trees and a branch of the public library; on the other side there's a post office, bookstore, and a smattering of tables beneath an awning. The day isn't too hot yet, people look pleasant and determined, and there are no lines at the post office.
planner
She buys me an 18-month planner. It has a pale green cover with gold butterflies and scrolling leaves.
reroute
On the phone she blocks me out, so I resort to email. For several minutes I type, explaining what it is I feel and why it is I need to be heard, a claim to attention I rarely make; and after checking that the words aren't angry or hurtful, but just too firm to ignore, I send it off instead of saving it as a draft that will never see the light of day.
rustle
The other room hums quietly with the T.V., with her footsteps, drawers opening and sliding shut. The place doesn't feel like a vacant shell.
tar
My fingers on the keys feel coated in it.
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