This covers the week of 10/6/19 - 10/12/19.
bullet
In an old spiral notebook, I start a bullet journal, and so far it's working well. The method at first seems cumbersome, but in practice it's pretty easy to use, and there's no need to make it fancy.
commercial
It's a home with an aggressive commercial quality, like the set for an ad. There's little that's personal in it.
entorhinal
Her mind is ravaged by dementia, so she doesn't realize she's at a Yom Kippur service. She thinks it's some kind of simcha, like a wedding party. "I can't dance," she keeps saying. "Oh, there's the wall," she cries, her fingers tracing the mechitza.
hunting
Searching for a hat in a department store. Racks and racks of clothes, people rifling humorlessly, each item subjected to sharp inspection.
richness
Golden chrysanthemums, a golden haze to the afternoon.
space
Praying part of the time outdoors, alone, in the cool air.
whiff
The movie theater lobby smells like a dank basement toilet. The movie itself is like an air freshener. Beyond being light and pleasant, it doesn't leave a strong impression on me. What I remember more strongly is the walk afterwards, late into the evening.
Showing posts with label journals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journals. Show all posts
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Week in Seven Words #241
fissure
The photo of a canyon, blown up and stretched wide, looks like a marvelous chasm in her wall.
hacked
When people substitute an ideology for self-knowledge, they talk and act as if parts of them have been carved out.
hued
Dresses draped all over the closet like colorful skins she has shed.
inhibitions
Does writing in a journal help? I think it can, as long as you're honest with yourself. I know that over the years, growing up and even a little into adulthood, I forced cheer and optimism into some of what I wrote - writing things as I wished they were or as I thought people would want them to be were they ever to discover the journal. Sometimes I just wrote, uninhibited, but it didn't come easily. It's important to write freely, especially when writing to myself. Though looking back at past entries I've also learned some key things about my younger self from what I omitted or how I spun a certain event.
prioritize
As his grandmother raises questions about the bill, he leans towards the waiter and whispers, "Can I have chocolate milk?"
renovating
Their house is littered with power tools, the cabinets gaping and furniture stacked in the front room. They look forward to the day when order will emerge from the obstacle course.
sinking
His speech is a series of smooth white pebbles that sink slowly to the bottom of a pond.
The photo of a canyon, blown up and stretched wide, looks like a marvelous chasm in her wall.
hacked
When people substitute an ideology for self-knowledge, they talk and act as if parts of them have been carved out.
hued
Dresses draped all over the closet like colorful skins she has shed.
inhibitions
Does writing in a journal help? I think it can, as long as you're honest with yourself. I know that over the years, growing up and even a little into adulthood, I forced cheer and optimism into some of what I wrote - writing things as I wished they were or as I thought people would want them to be were they ever to discover the journal. Sometimes I just wrote, uninhibited, but it didn't come easily. It's important to write freely, especially when writing to myself. Though looking back at past entries I've also learned some key things about my younger self from what I omitted or how I spun a certain event.
prioritize
As his grandmother raises questions about the bill, he leans towards the waiter and whispers, "Can I have chocolate milk?"
renovating
Their house is littered with power tools, the cabinets gaping and furniture stacked in the front room. They look forward to the day when order will emerge from the obstacle course.
sinking
His speech is a series of smooth white pebbles that sink slowly to the bottom of a pond.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Extracts: Love and growth in Journal of a Solitude
Growth is demanding and may seem dangerous, for there is loss as well as gain in growth. But why go on living if one has ceased to grow? And what more demanding atmosphere for growth than love in any form, than any relationship which can call out and requires of us our most secret and deepest selves? - from Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Week in Seven Words #45
chapped
My knuckles crack open in the cold.
culmination
All eight candles are lit along with the presiding shamash; the light they give is defiant and cheerful.
fragment
A slender journal in Hebrew, and the story of a girl who lived decades ago and died young. She left a deep impression on her teacher, who wrote about her elevated spirit and discerning mind; this teacher wanted to preserve her writing and keep her memory alive. In her black and white photo she looks serious and severely lovely.
listing
The project drifts off course and onto some rocks. It groans, tilts, and waits in weary silence for intervention.
peepers
Their eyes appear on the screen as two blank white circles on a black square. The circles squeeze to nothing and spring to full circumference; they waver and blur and shift from side to side. They seem to belong to a cartoon character blinking out of a dark room.
tight-lipped
My front door won't admit me, and at first I'm not sure why.
twinkle
Snow drifts down in the late afternoon. It's the best time of day for it, knowing that there are warm places waiting for me at the end of the day's work.
My knuckles crack open in the cold.
culmination
All eight candles are lit along with the presiding shamash; the light they give is defiant and cheerful.
fragment
A slender journal in Hebrew, and the story of a girl who lived decades ago and died young. She left a deep impression on her teacher, who wrote about her elevated spirit and discerning mind; this teacher wanted to preserve her writing and keep her memory alive. In her black and white photo she looks serious and severely lovely.
listing
The project drifts off course and onto some rocks. It groans, tilts, and waits in weary silence for intervention.
peepers
Their eyes appear on the screen as two blank white circles on a black square. The circles squeeze to nothing and spring to full circumference; they waver and blur and shift from side to side. They seem to belong to a cartoon character blinking out of a dark room.
tight-lipped
My front door won't admit me, and at first I'm not sure why.
twinkle
Snow drifts down in the late afternoon. It's the best time of day for it, knowing that there are warm places waiting for me at the end of the day's work.
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