Week in Seven Words #572

This covers the week of 1/3/21 - 1/9/21.

abed

Tousled hair, face smushed into the pillow, cold air leaking in.

attends

Applying for a job, she wonders how she can make her qualifications look more impressive. "Doesn't fall asleep during Zoom meetings, usually," is a good one.

continue

Stay calm, and keep writing.

friend

Whenever I hear from her, I think about how glad I am that we're friends.

incapacitated

Once seated at the piano, she merely stares at the keys. She doesn't know how to begin, because inside her there's no music, only knots of fear.

morbid

As soon as I start slipping into helpless spectator mode, I try to wrench my attention away from the news.

unsteadily

Buildings in the background, denuded trees in the foreground, and slick muddy paths that make the world wobble.

Week in Seven Words #535

This covers the week of 4/19/20 - 4/25/20.

affability

The dog is brisk and friendly as always. Ready to take off on a walk, sniff the larger world, investigate fascinating stains on sidewalks.

discouraged

In a more densely wooded part of the park, I keep an eye out for bird feeders. There were several in one spot the year before, creating the sense of a town square for birds, a plaza with restaurants. But it seems that no one has put up feeders this year. The joke is that even the birds need to socially distance.

feebly

A "we're all in this together" hope-inducing message displayed on an empty theater.

flames

Tulips in fiery colors are breathtaking.

obscured

It's satisfying, the way the path curves along the lake, and you can't see too far ahead.

rudderless

There's little sense of competency at the helm. I had been plugged into the news, but now I wonder if it's worth it. I don't think I'm learning much.

untenanted

The streets are largely empty of traffic. Granted, it's easier to go on a walk this way. And the air is cleaner. But the emptiness is eerie, as if civilization has retreated slightly.

Week in Seven Words #529

This covers the week of 3/8/20 - 3/14/20.

cancellations

In one day, most of my calendar evaporates. One cancellation after another. Businesses close. Classes are cut short.

elsewhere

I ask her why she's looking through Zillow. "Escapism," she says.

reportedly

Mixed messages from politicians, pundits, health experts. I wonder if I'm underestimating the seriousness of this virus. Or maybe it hasn't fully sunk in that we're in deeply unusual circumstances and nobody knows how any of this will turn out.

restlessly

Distracted during synagogue services, my eyes and mind roaming the room. 

speculations

We're in a building that tomorrow we won't be able to enter. We talk about the virus and how people think it spreads. We have little idea of what we're talking about. Sharing things we've heard on the news produces a mixed effect: heightened anxiety combined with the relief of unburdening some of our anxieties.

stockpile

The supermarket is clotted with thick lines. People are stocking up.

strangeness

By this point, I'm used to working from home. But it's not the same now. There's an intensified uncertainty and a constriction. The city where I live has become much less familiar.

Week in Seven Words #380

dreaming
I'm in Brooklyn somewhere, after a late dinner, and every subway station I go to is closed, the stairways to the tracks boarded up. I wander out to a boardwalk overlooking an ocean. I can see the moon not by looking at the sky but by looking through the dark, transparent ocean. The moon is glowing through the water. It's enormous.

impediments
The conversation deteriorates into peevish muttering. Again, no progress towards a solution or even an understanding.

intimate
In a crowded, noisy room, they find a window seat tucked behind curtains, where they press up against each other and whisper.

irritants
During the meal, he scrolls through headlines on his phone. He rarely reads the articles. Only headlines, which make him feel vindicated sometimes but angry mostly.

satisfied
After the party, they fall into a couple of chairs and kick off their heels. The table is covered in used glasses and liquor bottles filled to different levels. They pour drinks and clink their glasses, which probably aren't clean, in a wordless toast to a night well-spent.

soles
She walks barefoot to feel the rasp of the stone on her feet.

touching
She slips an invitation under my door. It's for a dinner, a few weeks from now.

Week in Seven Words #318

branding
She married someone who picks at her like tissue on the bottom of his shoe. With a determined smile, she spins his sullenness as shy charm, his malice as social awkwardness.

chlorosis
Under the fluorescent lights, the fake plants look anemic. So do the people - washed out, moving as if their feet were planted in deep, sucking mud.

diminishing
All the information we've found suggests there's no way the problem will disappear on its own. (Yes it will, he says.) Let's try a treatment. Giving it a try costs almost nothing. (It's unnecessary.) Why? (Because.)

methamphetamine
She gets a hit of anger from the TV news, her round-the-clock drug.

riddles
They're tech-savvy, but that doesn't mean they don't like offline games. Case in point - her scavenger hunt with clues planted among stuffed animals and kitchen appliances.

sequestered
Once people go into the little soundproof room in their mind, it doesn't matter how hard you pound on the door. I forget this, even though I've seen it often and done it myself.

sleeky
PowerPoint, pizza, multi-colored plastic chairs - it's like I'm back in grad school.