addressing
It's a sleek open space where the light fixtures look like upside-down salad bowls. Three speakers eventually settle on stools facing the rows of seats. As the sky darkens, they discuss ways to make AI more ethical. From protecting data to detecting biases in programming, there's much to discuss, and there aren't simple answers.
Chasmosaurus
In 15 minutes, I learn more about horned dinosaurs than I ever learned in my life.
heaps
In the lower level of the supermarket, smoke is pouring out of a freezer. A little later, as I wait on line, we're asked to evacuate. Everyone leaves their cart or basket behind, and it makes an eerie picture: piles of abandoned food, much of it perishable, trailing along an empty store.
intermittent
During the storm, it looks as if a lightbulb is flickering between the clouds.
menu
We don't order the oxtail soup. We just marvel at its price.
select
The gift she receives is a doll that says, "I love you," and chuckles like a trapped squirrel. Keeping at a distance, she motions for it to be placed back in its bag and out of sight. Later, we play with the silent pink bear she likes; I help her and the bear down the slide.
virtuosity
On the radio, Vivaldi's Four Seasons comes on played by Isaac Stern, Pinchas Zukerman, Shlomo Mintz, and Itzhak Perlman. It's a violin extravaganza.
It lifted off from a chair-back,
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.
- Richard Wilbur, "The Writer"
Showing posts with label lightning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lightning. Show all posts
Sunday, November 4, 2018
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Week in Seven Words #122
atmospheric
At the cafe we sit right by the huge open windows, and cool air rolls over us as the storm starts up. We breathe deeply and peacefully until I wonder aloud if lightning can come in through open windows. (Chances of that are small, very small, but it's not impossible...)
exhale
It's lovely when a subway car suddenly disgorges all if its passengers, and you're no longer standing with your nose in someone's hair line.
indolent
Turtles loll in the shallows nom-nom-nomming on leaves.
inviting
Tulips on a table laid out in rich blue paper.
lightened
Springtime in the synagogue, flowers twined around the room.
preschool
They sing "Baby Beluga" with looks of rapt innocent concentration. They're little people who can barely sit still, love to give hugs, and know the words to songs about donkeys, wheels on buses, saying good-bye and the deep blue sea.
venturesome
The bug making its slow patient way across my ceiling is an explorer of sorts, mapping out an ocean of space. Even as I stand there waiting for it with an old textbook and a bottle of Windex, I can respect its intrepid spirit.
At the cafe we sit right by the huge open windows, and cool air rolls over us as the storm starts up. We breathe deeply and peacefully until I wonder aloud if lightning can come in through open windows. (Chances of that are small, very small, but it's not impossible...)
exhale
It's lovely when a subway car suddenly disgorges all if its passengers, and you're no longer standing with your nose in someone's hair line.
indolent
Turtles loll in the shallows nom-nom-nomming on leaves.
inviting
Tulips on a table laid out in rich blue paper.
lightened
Springtime in the synagogue, flowers twined around the room.
preschool
They sing "Baby Beluga" with looks of rapt innocent concentration. They're little people who can barely sit still, love to give hugs, and know the words to songs about donkeys, wheels on buses, saying good-bye and the deep blue sea.
venturesome
The bug making its slow patient way across my ceiling is an explorer of sorts, mapping out an ocean of space. Even as I stand there waiting for it with an old textbook and a bottle of Windex, I can respect its intrepid spirit.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Week in Seven Words #118
affirmative
One piece of advice I'm slowly taking to heart is to say "yes" more often. Meaning that when I think of an idea and the good possibilities it might lead to, I shouldn't immediately start enacting the Script of Self-Doubt ("but wait"/"I can't"/"because, well..."/"it's too much"/"I couldn't really"/"I've never"/"what if...?"). Yes. Yes. Yes!
flashbulb
Lightning at my window in the middle of the night.
footing
A few seats ahead of me on the train are a pair of feet. First they wiggle in the air, then they settle next to the window. The toenails are turquoise.
hindrance
Many employers don't just want you to send them a resume and cover letter - they also insist that you fill out an online job application form. The problem is, the application forms usually ask for the same information that you'd find on a resume, plus they're clunky, inflexible, and cause your browser to quit unexpectedly. What's the point of them? Another hoop to jump through? A way of discouraging applicants who give in to their frustration and quit?
presque vu
The Hummous Kitchen is packed early in the evening, and in the crowd there's an old man with a distinct face, the kind of face you don't forget. Sure enough it isn't his face we've forgotten, but his name. Was he on T.V.? Maybe on Seinfeld or something? Where have we seen this guy? We get a tip-of-the tongue feeling that stays with us throughout the meal. Afterwards a search on Wikipedia through a list of Jewish American actors born in certain decades produces a match - it's Fyvush Finkel. Now I can claim to have spotted two celebrities in New York City. Finkel at the Hummous Kitchen and, a few years back, Lauren Bacall walking her dog near Central Park West.
quotidian
Stitching together the daily routines that had fallen apart the week before.
slate
Solemn and undisturbed - the city in the gray early morning.
One piece of advice I'm slowly taking to heart is to say "yes" more often. Meaning that when I think of an idea and the good possibilities it might lead to, I shouldn't immediately start enacting the Script of Self-Doubt ("but wait"/"I can't"/"because, well..."/"it's too much"/"I couldn't really"/"I've never"/"what if...?"). Yes. Yes. Yes!
flashbulb
Lightning at my window in the middle of the night.
footing
A few seats ahead of me on the train are a pair of feet. First they wiggle in the air, then they settle next to the window. The toenails are turquoise.
hindrance
Many employers don't just want you to send them a resume and cover letter - they also insist that you fill out an online job application form. The problem is, the application forms usually ask for the same information that you'd find on a resume, plus they're clunky, inflexible, and cause your browser to quit unexpectedly. What's the point of them? Another hoop to jump through? A way of discouraging applicants who give in to their frustration and quit?
presque vu
The Hummous Kitchen is packed early in the evening, and in the crowd there's an old man with a distinct face, the kind of face you don't forget. Sure enough it isn't his face we've forgotten, but his name. Was he on T.V.? Maybe on Seinfeld or something? Where have we seen this guy? We get a tip-of-the tongue feeling that stays with us throughout the meal. Afterwards a search on Wikipedia through a list of Jewish American actors born in certain decades produces a match - it's Fyvush Finkel. Now I can claim to have spotted two celebrities in New York City. Finkel at the Hummous Kitchen and, a few years back, Lauren Bacall walking her dog near Central Park West.
quotidian
Stitching together the daily routines that had fallen apart the week before.
slate
Solemn and undisturbed - the city in the gray early morning.
Labels:
cities,
confidence,
energy,
fame,
human body,
lightning,
recognition,
restaurants,
routines,
trains,
week in seven words,
work
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Week in Seven Words #81
glare
A flash of lightning fills up the window like an enraged eye peering into the room.
justification
It's the same situation with the same actors, but I describe it quite differently depending on the person I'm talking to.
manifest
Before leaving the library I drop my backpack on the sofa by the exit and start to rearrange its contents. That's when I see him wave hello from the other end of the room. He comes over, we talk, and the tightness in my chest eases. Sometimes a friend is there at the exact right moment, just when you need friendship most but don't hope for it or think to ask.
parabolic
The shape of the past few years resembles in some ways an inverted parabola, arcing up and then declining.
phrenic
Until the decision is made, it's difficult to breathe.
slops
The writing is ragged with indecision. A sluggish paragraph is cut through by a flash of insight all in capslocks, followed by a puddle of diluted thoughts that trickle off in ellipses.
treading
I look like I'm getting somewhere, typing and rifling through papers, but it's only an illusion of progress. Over time I grow tired and start to sink.
A flash of lightning fills up the window like an enraged eye peering into the room.
justification
It's the same situation with the same actors, but I describe it quite differently depending on the person I'm talking to.
manifest
Before leaving the library I drop my backpack on the sofa by the exit and start to rearrange its contents. That's when I see him wave hello from the other end of the room. He comes over, we talk, and the tightness in my chest eases. Sometimes a friend is there at the exact right moment, just when you need friendship most but don't hope for it or think to ask.
parabolic
The shape of the past few years resembles in some ways an inverted parabola, arcing up and then declining.
phrenic
Until the decision is made, it's difficult to breathe.
slops
The writing is ragged with indecision. A sluggish paragraph is cut through by a flash of insight all in capslocks, followed by a puddle of diluted thoughts that trickle off in ellipses.
treading
I look like I'm getting somewhere, typing and rifling through papers, but it's only an illusion of progress. Over time I grow tired and start to sink.
Labels:
change,
conversation,
fellowship,
health,
lightning,
shapes,
storms,
stress,
weather,
week in seven words,
work,
writing
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