clop
I don't understand the appeal of a carriage ride in the park. The horses look depressed. The ride won't even show you the best sights.
decades
They've been married for 30 years, and there's a 20-year age gap between them. Their wedding took place when he was in his 20s, and she was in her 40s.
habits
One of the main points of agreement among the dozen or so people around the table is how difficult it is to change a habit. It's great to hear about the different approaches people take to uproot an entrenched pattern of behavior or thought. The strategies include introducing a new habit to supplant the old one, speaking out loud to yourself, and keeping track of progress in a journal. Outcomes vary, with reports of progress, backsliding, futility, triumph, vigilance.
materials
Where to even start with this essay. He's gasped out a couple of sentences. Copy and pasted a bunch of links into the file but hasn't read them yet. Come to think of it, that's a start of sorts. We can work with what's there.
mysterious
We cut through the park about an hour after sunset. I like how alien it feels. The rock formations look like gigantic creatures curled up in sleep. The skyline glitters like a computing device. People emerge into lamplight and lose themselves in shadow soon after.
plans
He shows me the blueprints, the promise of a home remade. He tries not to think too much about the bureaucratic red tape and the noise and messiness of construction.
tracking
At night, we walk past the large, arched window of a museum. A marble statue, turned mostly away from us, still seems to peer at us from the corner of its eye.
Showing posts with label night. Show all posts
Showing posts with label night. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Week in Seven Words #427
cluttering
Each shelf is furry with dust and stuffed with books and papers.
diminish
Enormous garbage bags bristling with papers. Some of the papers had seemed important once or were at least worth some attention, and now they're being chucked.
gold
A peaceful meal with joyful songs. I cherish it.
informative
I talk to someone who disagrees with me strongly on various political issues, but the conversation is courteous. No seething anger or oneupmanship. We learn from each other, and even though she hasn't convinced me to adopt her way of thinking, at least I have a better understanding of why she thinks the way she does.
nocturnally
Past midnight, there are sporadic bursts of activity on the streets. Various objects seem more alive, like the traffic lights changing color when no cars are around. There are pockets of people, some drunk or laughing as if they're drunk. There are solitary figures too, a few lost in thought, others striding with a purpose, dangerous or not.
presenting
At their dad's prompting, they stand up in front of the room to sing, their voices sweet, their demeanor self-conscious.
replicants
Three men, unrelated to each other and strangers until this evening, sit in a row at the table. All three are bald, white, young, thin, and wearing glasses.
Each shelf is furry with dust and stuffed with books and papers.
diminish
Enormous garbage bags bristling with papers. Some of the papers had seemed important once or were at least worth some attention, and now they're being chucked.
gold
A peaceful meal with joyful songs. I cherish it.
informative
I talk to someone who disagrees with me strongly on various political issues, but the conversation is courteous. No seething anger or oneupmanship. We learn from each other, and even though she hasn't convinced me to adopt her way of thinking, at least I have a better understanding of why she thinks the way she does.
nocturnally
Past midnight, there are sporadic bursts of activity on the streets. Various objects seem more alive, like the traffic lights changing color when no cars are around. There are pockets of people, some drunk or laughing as if they're drunk. There are solitary figures too, a few lost in thought, others striding with a purpose, dangerous or not.
presenting
At their dad's prompting, they stand up in front of the room to sing, their voices sweet, their demeanor self-conscious.
replicants
Three men, unrelated to each other and strangers until this evening, sit in a row at the table. All three are bald, white, young, thin, and wearing glasses.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Week in Seven Words #371
bursts
Several adults are squashed together at a picnic table. They shout, sing, and jump up to make backstroke swimming motions. One of them pretends to ride a horse. They're playing Time's Up, round after round.
delicacy
The stationery store reminds me of a candy box. I buy a couple of gifts for someone and linger over the glossy, gold, silver, pink papery confections.
disjointed
Walking a couple of miles at night. The streets look like they were sloppily glued together. The sidewalks have ruptured. The buildings leak. On one street, the strongest light is from a supermarket window papered over with ads for detergent and ham.
entertainment
In one room, the kids make silly videos with their phones. In the other, the adults seethe at the cable company over service disruptions.
overlooking
I can remember details from conversations that took place months or years ago, but I'll step into a home I visit regularly and not notice new furniture arrangements or a large new shoe rack by the door where I'm just now placing my shoes.
screen
The high school students walking alone are stone-faced and wear earbuds. Some hold their phones a couple of inches from their eyes.
sprung
I stare at the screen for minutes without knowing how to finish the paragraph, but as soon as I get up to run errands, everything - the paragraph, the whole article - comes to me.
Several adults are squashed together at a picnic table. They shout, sing, and jump up to make backstroke swimming motions. One of them pretends to ride a horse. They're playing Time's Up, round after round.
delicacy
The stationery store reminds me of a candy box. I buy a couple of gifts for someone and linger over the glossy, gold, silver, pink papery confections.
disjointed
Walking a couple of miles at night. The streets look like they were sloppily glued together. The sidewalks have ruptured. The buildings leak. On one street, the strongest light is from a supermarket window papered over with ads for detergent and ham.
entertainment
In one room, the kids make silly videos with their phones. In the other, the adults seethe at the cable company over service disruptions.
overlooking
I can remember details from conversations that took place months or years ago, but I'll step into a home I visit regularly and not notice new furniture arrangements or a large new shoe rack by the door where I'm just now placing my shoes.
screen
The high school students walking alone are stone-faced and wear earbuds. Some hold their phones a couple of inches from their eyes.
sprung
I stare at the screen for minutes without knowing how to finish the paragraph, but as soon as I get up to run errands, everything - the paragraph, the whole article - comes to me.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Week in Seven Words #351
broadened
Heading outdoors at night, to cars making slow, uncertain turns and buses sighing against the curb. I'm at peace with the world for the moment.
chew
The dish of eggplant parmigiana is about the size of a tire, and I'm too deep in good conversation to eat much of it.
digest
A heavy meal mid-afternoon - soup, salad, potatoes, meat, as sunlight seeps onto the table like honey.
generous
She doesn't hold a grudge, but welcomes everyone and gives hugs and kisses freely. Something in her remains relaxed in the face of how disappointing people can be.
thinning
In the upstairs room, most of the books are gone. In their place are pamphlets.
trooper
Some of the kids score goals or make clean passes that show they've been training. Other kids aren't as skilled, but at least seem to like playing. One boy has a hard time of it. He's kicked in the chest by an angry player from the other team (who gets booted out). Later in the game, the ball slams into his face. It's just not his day, but he stays in the game as long as he can.
zoom
A sunlit path, shrubs on one side, water on the other, and bicycles humming like wasps.
Heading outdoors at night, to cars making slow, uncertain turns and buses sighing against the curb. I'm at peace with the world for the moment.
chew
The dish of eggplant parmigiana is about the size of a tire, and I'm too deep in good conversation to eat much of it.
digest
A heavy meal mid-afternoon - soup, salad, potatoes, meat, as sunlight seeps onto the table like honey.
generous
She doesn't hold a grudge, but welcomes everyone and gives hugs and kisses freely. Something in her remains relaxed in the face of how disappointing people can be.
thinning
In the upstairs room, most of the books are gone. In their place are pamphlets.
trooper
Some of the kids score goals or make clean passes that show they've been training. Other kids aren't as skilled, but at least seem to like playing. One boy has a hard time of it. He's kicked in the chest by an angry player from the other team (who gets booted out). Later in the game, the ball slams into his face. It's just not his day, but he stays in the game as long as he can.
zoom
A sunlit path, shrubs on one side, water on the other, and bicycles humming like wasps.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Week in Seven Words #310
carving
The wind slashes at us all the way up the hill.
enfolding
She lingers in her daydream. Its air smells like a bakery, and its streets are cobblestone. Roses burst from a breach in the wooden fence around her Queen Anne house.
patchiness
Sidewalks held together with cement, gum, and mashed litter.
restless
It's a rumbly night with noises from parts unknown.
rosiness
Receive an email from her. Attached, a selfie with our faces wreathed in hearts.
run-of-the-mill
A movie stitched together from nostalgic moments, explosions, and characters who arrive with pre-packaged, top-level abilities. Dressed conveniently in white for good, black for bad.
ungrammatically
An academic article, written as if each sentence was held to a fire and partially melted.
The wind slashes at us all the way up the hill.
enfolding
She lingers in her daydream. Its air smells like a bakery, and its streets are cobblestone. Roses burst from a breach in the wooden fence around her Queen Anne house.
patchiness
Sidewalks held together with cement, gum, and mashed litter.
restless
It's a rumbly night with noises from parts unknown.
rosiness
Receive an email from her. Attached, a selfie with our faces wreathed in hearts.
run-of-the-mill
A movie stitched together from nostalgic moments, explosions, and characters who arrive with pre-packaged, top-level abilities. Dressed conveniently in white for good, black for bad.
ungrammatically
An academic article, written as if each sentence was held to a fire and partially melted.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Week in Seven Words #305
canid
The dog, tied up outside, whines low and long over all the things she can smell but not jump on and lick.
capture
I'm reminded of what it's like to play tag in a house. Ducking behind a door and waiting for the pursuer to run past into a different room. At the end, getting caught with a fierce hug.
eventide
Cold, clean air, a muddy lawn, leaves, a swing set at dusk.
fauna
He tells me about the relationship between manatees and elephants, and hippos and whales - just some of the topics we migrate through, using books, toy animals, and YouTube videos as supplements.
fidgeting
They show me a video of what at first looks like a skittering punctuation mark: a pygmy shrew, among soil and rocks and exploratory human fingers.
grumbly
We cram ourselves onto a gondola swing. It creaks in protest, lurching under our weight.
venom
This time, she finds a wound in me that she can tear open wider. My responding anger is so strong. It collects in my throat and chest, and I'm close to letting it fly. Like a snake that's reared back and spread its hood.
The dog, tied up outside, whines low and long over all the things she can smell but not jump on and lick.
capture
I'm reminded of what it's like to play tag in a house. Ducking behind a door and waiting for the pursuer to run past into a different room. At the end, getting caught with a fierce hug.
eventide
Cold, clean air, a muddy lawn, leaves, a swing set at dusk.
fauna
He tells me about the relationship between manatees and elephants, and hippos and whales - just some of the topics we migrate through, using books, toy animals, and YouTube videos as supplements.
fidgeting
They show me a video of what at first looks like a skittering punctuation mark: a pygmy shrew, among soil and rocks and exploratory human fingers.
grumbly
We cram ourselves onto a gondola swing. It creaks in protest, lurching under our weight.
venom
This time, she finds a wound in me that she can tear open wider. My responding anger is so strong. It collects in my throat and chest, and I'm close to letting it fly. Like a snake that's reared back and spread its hood.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Week in Seven Words #180
bedeviled
Up on the hill, she sits on a rock, stares at the ground, and silently battles her demons.
exhalation
Night is the best time to slip out. The air is breathable, the sidewalks are mostly empty, and the world is softer and more muted.
leaden
I miss out on a chance to reconnect with her, because a phone call seems like too much effort at the time.
priority
He will fail in part because his parents don't care enough about his success.
pupils
All of the stuffed animals are wide-eyed. Some look gullible; others look stoned. A few have clearly peered into the heart of the universe and discovered the mysteries therein.
sinuous
Romeo and Juliet embrace in the twilight.
tick-tock
They toss the baseball in an arc back and forth; it hits their mitts with a clop. Clop, arc, clop... like a metronome, keeping time at sunset.
Up on the hill, she sits on a rock, stares at the ground, and silently battles her demons.
exhalation
Night is the best time to slip out. The air is breathable, the sidewalks are mostly empty, and the world is softer and more muted.
leaden
I miss out on a chance to reconnect with her, because a phone call seems like too much effort at the time.
priority
He will fail in part because his parents don't care enough about his success.
pupils
All of the stuffed animals are wide-eyed. Some look gullible; others look stoned. A few have clearly peered into the heart of the universe and discovered the mysteries therein.
sinuous
Romeo and Juliet embrace in the twilight.
tick-tock
They toss the baseball in an arc back and forth; it hits their mitts with a clop. Clop, arc, clop... like a metronome, keeping time at sunset.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Week in Seven Words #133
floating
I love summer nights, after it's rained earlier and the air is soft and balmy. I could walk for miles on nights like these.
floristic
Blotchy red roses and delicate purple flowers on display along Amsterdam Avenue.
marver
A spell of cathartic writing, where I pour out all the simmering anger and shape it into something useful.
savored
Lunch hour: Shakshouka with haloumi cheese, a corner table, and a good book.
unfathomable
Struck by the number of strangers around me - people I'll never know, who brush up against my life as I brush against theirs when we dodge past each other on a crowded sidewalk.
unresolved
An unspoken "let's pretend it never happened" instead of a spoken "I'm sorry."
zwischenzug
I haven't played chess since childhood but all it takes is a few games and I start to see the connections again between the pieces. Instead of sending them out in disjointed short-sighted moves, I start to get how one can protect another, how they can operate in tandem to pose a threat to and capture opponent pieces. I have fun rediscovering all of this.
I love summer nights, after it's rained earlier and the air is soft and balmy. I could walk for miles on nights like these.
floristic
Blotchy red roses and delicate purple flowers on display along Amsterdam Avenue.
marver
A spell of cathartic writing, where I pour out all the simmering anger and shape it into something useful.
savored
Lunch hour: Shakshouka with haloumi cheese, a corner table, and a good book.
unfathomable
Struck by the number of strangers around me - people I'll never know, who brush up against my life as I brush against theirs when we dodge past each other on a crowded sidewalk.
unresolved
An unspoken "let's pretend it never happened" instead of a spoken "I'm sorry."
zwischenzug
I haven't played chess since childhood but all it takes is a few games and I start to see the connections again between the pieces. Instead of sending them out in disjointed short-sighted moves, I start to get how one can protect another, how they can operate in tandem to pose a threat to and capture opponent pieces. I have fun rediscovering all of this.
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.
Monday, March 7, 2011
C'est magnifique
Le Flâneur (music by The XX) from Luke Shepard on Vimeo.
Check out Paris in 2000 images at National Geographic Traveler for an interview with Luke Shepard about this project.
A photographer strolling through a city can be thought of as le flâneur: an observer, someone perceptive, thoughtful, attuned to broader patterns and smaller exquisite details, mapping out the city on foot.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Week in Seven Words #47
crumple
My eyelids giving up.
finger food
One lady declares that they're the best, all those tiny treats to pluck from the trays and pop into her mouth. She makes a slow appreciative circle round the table, her fingers dancing over chips, crackers, guacamole, and beans, gingerbread, olives, grapes and cheese, puffy cakes and chunks of chocolate.
pneumaticity
Hollow-boned, flying through the night. Can't figure out when to stop and for how long.
proctoring
It's nice to see the relief on their faces when the exam is over; they know that no matter how they did they get to go home now and reacquaint themselves with a full night's sleep. (A full night and an extra half-day, more like.)
subsequent
When I think too far ahead I tense up. Plans are precarious, people change. Sometimes I wonder how anything can be planned.
tugged
Five minutes before joining the conversation, I tell myself that I'm going to work on my papers and not socialize.
valve
In the tiny office they sit on the floor, backs to the wall, laptops and notebooks open on their legs, and everything seems confusing, everything, so I crack a joke now and then and some of the pressure lets up.
My eyelids giving up.
finger food
One lady declares that they're the best, all those tiny treats to pluck from the trays and pop into her mouth. She makes a slow appreciative circle round the table, her fingers dancing over chips, crackers, guacamole, and beans, gingerbread, olives, grapes and cheese, puffy cakes and chunks of chocolate.
pneumaticity
Hollow-boned, flying through the night. Can't figure out when to stop and for how long.
proctoring
It's nice to see the relief on their faces when the exam is over; they know that no matter how they did they get to go home now and reacquaint themselves with a full night's sleep. (A full night and an extra half-day, more like.)
subsequent
When I think too far ahead I tense up. Plans are precarious, people change. Sometimes I wonder how anything can be planned.
tugged
Five minutes before joining the conversation, I tell myself that I'm going to work on my papers and not socialize.
valve
In the tiny office they sit on the floor, backs to the wall, laptops and notebooks open on their legs, and everything seems confusing, everything, so I crack a joke now and then and some of the pressure lets up.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Week in Seven Words #42
accommodation
Different people I'm friends with can find it difficult to talk to each other; their approach to life, personality, interests, may not overlap much and so there isn't a lot of common ground for light dinner time discussion, especially if they don't know each other well. I like that they have to work a little harder to make conversation. Sometimes they regard each other speculatively or with bafflement, as if they're assessing species membership; other times they bond briefly over a love of sticky cinnamon kugel.
cataracts
The moon squints through a film of cloud.
delusion
What doesn't get done today will not get done tomorrow but might get done the day after tomorrow.
escapism
When I need a break from work one thing I do is look up bus and train schedules and imagine myself traveling from one town to another. I take my time coming home.
inverted
The roots of the trees swim in gold leaves.
preserving
A young boy, half-shy and half-pleased, gives a little speech in Yiddish. The people at the dinner sing in Yiddish too, and there are echoes of the shtetl in their voices. I've never been to Eastern Europe and did not grow up among Yiddish speakers, but my family's history runs through that part of the world, and there's a bittersweet pain when I think about the way of life systematically wiped out and the way the rich culture still manages to endure.
replete
To step outside and discover that it's just rained, and that after a walk through the cold clean air I'll sit down to a baked apple, golden and brown and smeared with cinnamon.
Different people I'm friends with can find it difficult to talk to each other; their approach to life, personality, interests, may not overlap much and so there isn't a lot of common ground for light dinner time discussion, especially if they don't know each other well. I like that they have to work a little harder to make conversation. Sometimes they regard each other speculatively or with bafflement, as if they're assessing species membership; other times they bond briefly over a love of sticky cinnamon kugel.
cataracts
The moon squints through a film of cloud.
delusion
What doesn't get done today will not get done tomorrow but might get done the day after tomorrow.
escapism
When I need a break from work one thing I do is look up bus and train schedules and imagine myself traveling from one town to another. I take my time coming home.
inverted
The roots of the trees swim in gold leaves.
preserving
A young boy, half-shy and half-pleased, gives a little speech in Yiddish. The people at the dinner sing in Yiddish too, and there are echoes of the shtetl in their voices. I've never been to Eastern Europe and did not grow up among Yiddish speakers, but my family's history runs through that part of the world, and there's a bittersweet pain when I think about the way of life systematically wiped out and the way the rich culture still manages to endure.
replete
To step outside and discover that it's just rained, and that after a walk through the cold clean air I'll sit down to a baked apple, golden and brown and smeared with cinnamon.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Week in Seven Words #36
cerulean
The sky is a crisp blue, the air is clear and cool, leaves crackle across the cobbled paths; I sit on a low stone ledge with a notebook on my lap and a mind full of contented thoughts.
crumble
He holds my idea like a leaf between his forefinger and thumb and lifts it up to the light. It looks papery and dry. He rubs his fingers together, and it disintegrates slowly.
delay
Life can feel like a game of Tetris; if I get too distracted or take too long dealing with any one thing, every obligation, burden, assignment, and duty just piles up in weird insurmountable towers.
lighten
It's worth it, to put the book aside, the article, whatever it is that's due soon and demanding time, and just sit and talk to good people; one of them in particular, known mainly for his jokes, shares a beautiful serious story with me.
morose
Autumn mutters to herself and shakes raindrops out of her rags.
nocturnal
I wake up in the middle of the night, strangely keyed up and unwilling to turn over and try to sleep again. Like a mouse scrabbling around in the dark, fixing up her nest, I spend a couple of hours sorting the piles of paper on and around my desk, slotting them into folders, drawers and piles, throwing some out, tidying them into short neat stacks.
styrofoam
As the silence stretches on, I feel the need to supply conversational filler. It's like stuffing styrofoam chips into a shipping box; if I leave too much space unfilled, the fragile object inside will break.
The sky is a crisp blue, the air is clear and cool, leaves crackle across the cobbled paths; I sit on a low stone ledge with a notebook on my lap and a mind full of contented thoughts.
crumble
He holds my idea like a leaf between his forefinger and thumb and lifts it up to the light. It looks papery and dry. He rubs his fingers together, and it disintegrates slowly.
delay
Life can feel like a game of Tetris; if I get too distracted or take too long dealing with any one thing, every obligation, burden, assignment, and duty just piles up in weird insurmountable towers.
lighten
It's worth it, to put the book aside, the article, whatever it is that's due soon and demanding time, and just sit and talk to good people; one of them in particular, known mainly for his jokes, shares a beautiful serious story with me.
morose
Autumn mutters to herself and shakes raindrops out of her rags.
nocturnal
I wake up in the middle of the night, strangely keyed up and unwilling to turn over and try to sleep again. Like a mouse scrabbling around in the dark, fixing up her nest, I spend a couple of hours sorting the piles of paper on and around my desk, slotting them into folders, drawers and piles, throwing some out, tidying them into short neat stacks.
styrofoam
As the silence stretches on, I feel the need to supply conversational filler. It's like stuffing styrofoam chips into a shipping box; if I leave too much space unfilled, the fragile object inside will break.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Week in Seven Words #34
amber
The honey is a deep gold brown. It caresses the light and draws it in; particles of light shine faintly from inside of it.
commonality
At one point I wind up sharing a dinner table with two men who have, at different points this past year, solicited relationship advice from me. They don't know that they have this experience in common; but I know, and it makes me smile a little for some reason - maybe because it's just another example of life's little quirks of circumstance.
meeting
At the several communal meals I attend, I meet some new people. But even with the people I know already, it feels like I'm meeting them for the first time each time we sit down together at the table. I might have met them before (or even know them quite well), but I can't know for sure what they'll say exactly, or what their mood will be, or what will happen - so it's like meeting them all over again each time, and I look forward to seeing new sides of them or learning new things about them.
ox
There are a few days when I plod around, slow and persistent and a little tired. The work of the coming months, the magnitude of it, makes itself known to me and settles down hard on my shoulders. I keep my head down and try to adjust; sometimes I think the numb accepting patience is better than the alternative - the spikes of anxiety, poking apart my concentration and scattering my thoughts.
pickings
When the tables are abandoned several flies come, rising and falling in delicate, random-seeming patterns over the remains of the food, until the plates are cleared away.
sukkah (סוכה)
Being hugged tight on all side by other bodies, by tables and chairs, by the flexible tent walls of the sukkah. The weather is lovely for the most part; when it gets too hot, some cool air swirls in between the flaps and openings, and at noon there's some shade at least. One night after a strong humid spell a storm breaks out, and rain sluices through the makeshift weave of the ceiling and onto us; the walls sway with the wind, but we just glance at each other and keep talking and laughing.
unclouded
A clear white moon above the shabby silhouette of an apartment building.
The honey is a deep gold brown. It caresses the light and draws it in; particles of light shine faintly from inside of it.
commonality
At one point I wind up sharing a dinner table with two men who have, at different points this past year, solicited relationship advice from me. They don't know that they have this experience in common; but I know, and it makes me smile a little for some reason - maybe because it's just another example of life's little quirks of circumstance.
meeting
At the several communal meals I attend, I meet some new people. But even with the people I know already, it feels like I'm meeting them for the first time each time we sit down together at the table. I might have met them before (or even know them quite well), but I can't know for sure what they'll say exactly, or what their mood will be, or what will happen - so it's like meeting them all over again each time, and I look forward to seeing new sides of them or learning new things about them.
ox
There are a few days when I plod around, slow and persistent and a little tired. The work of the coming months, the magnitude of it, makes itself known to me and settles down hard on my shoulders. I keep my head down and try to adjust; sometimes I think the numb accepting patience is better than the alternative - the spikes of anxiety, poking apart my concentration and scattering my thoughts.
pickings
When the tables are abandoned several flies come, rising and falling in delicate, random-seeming patterns over the remains of the food, until the plates are cleared away.
sukkah (סוכה)
Being hugged tight on all side by other bodies, by tables and chairs, by the flexible tent walls of the sukkah. The weather is lovely for the most part; when it gets too hot, some cool air swirls in between the flaps and openings, and at noon there's some shade at least. One night after a strong humid spell a storm breaks out, and rain sluices through the makeshift weave of the ceiling and onto us; the walls sway with the wind, but we just glance at each other and keep talking and laughing.
unclouded
A clear white moon above the shabby silhouette of an apartment building.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Week in Seven Words #30
connection
She calls three times before her flight, clinging to a voice she loves.
cordial
Three women, a long afternoon lunch, and a breeze gliding between the balcony and the front door.
extraterrestrial
Flowers that seem ordinary and pretty during the day acquire a strange purple glow beneath the street lamps at night.
pinballs
My thoughts ping around every which way - bouncing off my cerebellum and zinging around my limbic system - and I make the mistake of talking in the midst of this scattered mental state. Meaningless pings and thunks come out of my mouth, and I hear myself and think, "Who is this ninny, and why does she have my voice?"
predatory
Every so often I get up and pace in a semi-circle in front of the computer; it stares blandly back at me, displaying the little graphs, text boxes, screen captures and clipart tableaux. I bend forward peering at it all with narrowed eyes and wondering what I should pounce on next.
riven
On the one hand I have a wrenching stomachache. On the other hand I bump into not one, but two people whom I haven't seen in a while. So I live in a split reality - a part of me is caught up in pleasant conversation, while another part is sobbing quietly to itself, wanting its hot tea and corner-of-the-couch and blanket.
tundra
There's a separate climate zone in the back of the fridge, where the temperatures have dipped and turned a yogurt cup into a popsicle, a handful of radishes into nuggets of ice, and the surface of the humous into a miniature ice-skating rink, smooth and crystalline.
She calls three times before her flight, clinging to a voice she loves.
cordial
Three women, a long afternoon lunch, and a breeze gliding between the balcony and the front door.
extraterrestrial
Flowers that seem ordinary and pretty during the day acquire a strange purple glow beneath the street lamps at night.
pinballs
My thoughts ping around every which way - bouncing off my cerebellum and zinging around my limbic system - and I make the mistake of talking in the midst of this scattered mental state. Meaningless pings and thunks come out of my mouth, and I hear myself and think, "Who is this ninny, and why does she have my voice?"
predatory
Every so often I get up and pace in a semi-circle in front of the computer; it stares blandly back at me, displaying the little graphs, text boxes, screen captures and clipart tableaux. I bend forward peering at it all with narrowed eyes and wondering what I should pounce on next.
riven
On the one hand I have a wrenching stomachache. On the other hand I bump into not one, but two people whom I haven't seen in a while. So I live in a split reality - a part of me is caught up in pleasant conversation, while another part is sobbing quietly to itself, wanting its hot tea and corner-of-the-couch and blanket.
tundra
There's a separate climate zone in the back of the fridge, where the temperatures have dipped and turned a yogurt cup into a popsicle, a handful of radishes into nuggets of ice, and the surface of the humous into a miniature ice-skating rink, smooth and crystalline.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Week in Seven Words #12
blotchy
Outside the bookstore an academic journal lies half-propped against the curb, its cover grazing the tires of a parked car. The pages are swollen with rain, and certain words glisten in deep black.
buoyancy
Candles, silver, grapes, iced cakes, jellybeans, and chickpeas. We pack into the dining room and pass around drinks ("l'chaim, l'chaim"). As the newborn sleeps upstairs, his great-uncle talks to the guests about the tremendous potential we each have in life to do good.
hi
Her email is a golden droplet. "Hi" is the only word she writes, and I understand the tentative hopeful tone (the question mark that follows); the last time I heard from her was two years ago. But for the moment nothing else needs to be said.
retreat
Different ways to dig in one's heels against demands, responsibilities, the press of time. One person watches clips from Beatles concerts, marvels at the music and how wild the crowds were. Another oversleeps, and at dinner takes pleasure slowly eating slices of beet from a plastic cup. A third slips into computer games as a warrior with esoteric skills.
treat
On top of the pink-frosted cupcake sits a strawberry that was dipped in dark chocolate. As I peel the strawberry off, some frosting clings to it in small pink splodges. My first bite is a burst of fruit, bittersweet chocolate, and hyper-sugary pink.
unease
Dark stairwells lead down to doors we can't see. Windows are boarded, black plastic bags slither along the sidewalk, and at the street corner in a warehouse some bright lights flicker and machines hum. Of the houses, one front stoop seems welcoming, with fairy lights, wind chimes, and a fold-out chair (we wonder who lives in that house, and if they ever sit out on the stoop this late, when the street is eerie and nearly deserted).
welcome
We're jigsaw puzzle pieces, curiously shaped, and we prefer not to lock ourselves rigidly in place; once a jigsaw puzzle is put together there's no room for any new pieces. What we like is to laugh and talk and scuffle in the box, and welcome anyone who wants to hop in.
Outside the bookstore an academic journal lies half-propped against the curb, its cover grazing the tires of a parked car. The pages are swollen with rain, and certain words glisten in deep black.
buoyancy
Candles, silver, grapes, iced cakes, jellybeans, and chickpeas. We pack into the dining room and pass around drinks ("l'chaim, l'chaim"). As the newborn sleeps upstairs, his great-uncle talks to the guests about the tremendous potential we each have in life to do good.
hi
Her email is a golden droplet. "Hi" is the only word she writes, and I understand the tentative hopeful tone (the question mark that follows); the last time I heard from her was two years ago. But for the moment nothing else needs to be said.
retreat
Different ways to dig in one's heels against demands, responsibilities, the press of time. One person watches clips from Beatles concerts, marvels at the music and how wild the crowds were. Another oversleeps, and at dinner takes pleasure slowly eating slices of beet from a plastic cup. A third slips into computer games as a warrior with esoteric skills.
treat
On top of the pink-frosted cupcake sits a strawberry that was dipped in dark chocolate. As I peel the strawberry off, some frosting clings to it in small pink splodges. My first bite is a burst of fruit, bittersweet chocolate, and hyper-sugary pink.
unease
Dark stairwells lead down to doors we can't see. Windows are boarded, black plastic bags slither along the sidewalk, and at the street corner in a warehouse some bright lights flicker and machines hum. Of the houses, one front stoop seems welcoming, with fairy lights, wind chimes, and a fold-out chair (we wonder who lives in that house, and if they ever sit out on the stoop this late, when the street is eerie and nearly deserted).
welcome
We're jigsaw puzzle pieces, curiously shaped, and we prefer not to lock ourselves rigidly in place; once a jigsaw puzzle is put together there's no room for any new pieces. What we like is to laugh and talk and scuffle in the box, and welcome anyone who wants to hop in.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Week in Seven Words #5
balcony
We wear coats over our pajamas and have a drink on a balcony at night. This is a good time for talking, for catching up. A slice of the city is laid out before us - a lot of windows, some dark and blank, others allowing peeks inside to late dinner parties or flickering TVs.
complacent
Hearing the young boy ask "why?" makes me a lot less complacent about my knowledge of the world, how it works, why things are the way they are. Suddenly I'm struggling to find answers (or even just adequate words) for questions I'd foolishly assumed settled.
expectation
Over the course of the week I hear several different people exclaim, "what a beautiful day". The days are still cold; the wind can still be cutting. Dirty snow remains on the curbside. But there also seems to be a different quality to the daylight - stronger sunshine maybe. Or perhaps it's only wishful thinking, people wanting spring weather now without a moment's further delay.
hamantaschen
The tri-corner pastry traditionally eaten on the holiday of Purim. I eat a few over the course of the holiday - one with a raspberry center and a hard shell that I soften in a glass of milk. Another is apricot, an especially sweet filling that looks like topaz. And the third is full of poppyseed paste.
lassitude
In the morning, when the fever breaks, I'm tired, damp, and deliciously inert. I have no inclination to move, and even though I know I'll need to get up in ten or fifteen minutes to start the day, I feel as if those minutes pass more slowly, stretching out like putty.
lyric
She sits on my lap with a book of illustrated nursery rhymes; we're in the soft blue chair in the corner, near the lamp and her drawers full of teacups and dolls. We go through the book a few times; sometimes she leads, sometimes I lead, taking turns choosing the songs. She names the prominent figures in each picture, points to them, describes their colorful expressions; she sounds the words and melody of each song carefully, as if the rhymes will fracture if she's not gentle with them. Her hands turn each page with slow clumsy reverence.
senator
On the train the man sitting in front of me is a U.S. senator. He conducts several long cell phone conversations on the intricacies of law, the impact of proposed policies, and the need to battle government corruption and wasteful spending. Ok, fine, I'll be serious. What he actually discusses is several ways of staying afloat - how to raise money, how to write an indignant press release about an organization that just endorsed his opponent, how to zero in on his opponent's weaknesses. That, and when his driver should be waiting for him when he disembarks from the train. On the plus side, at least he's travelling by train (and not even business class!) rather than jetting around like a lot of his colleagues.
We wear coats over our pajamas and have a drink on a balcony at night. This is a good time for talking, for catching up. A slice of the city is laid out before us - a lot of windows, some dark and blank, others allowing peeks inside to late dinner parties or flickering TVs.
complacent
Hearing the young boy ask "why?" makes me a lot less complacent about my knowledge of the world, how it works, why things are the way they are. Suddenly I'm struggling to find answers (or even just adequate words) for questions I'd foolishly assumed settled.
expectation
Over the course of the week I hear several different people exclaim, "what a beautiful day". The days are still cold; the wind can still be cutting. Dirty snow remains on the curbside. But there also seems to be a different quality to the daylight - stronger sunshine maybe. Or perhaps it's only wishful thinking, people wanting spring weather now without a moment's further delay.
hamantaschen
The tri-corner pastry traditionally eaten on the holiday of Purim. I eat a few over the course of the holiday - one with a raspberry center and a hard shell that I soften in a glass of milk. Another is apricot, an especially sweet filling that looks like topaz. And the third is full of poppyseed paste.
lassitude
In the morning, when the fever breaks, I'm tired, damp, and deliciously inert. I have no inclination to move, and even though I know I'll need to get up in ten or fifteen minutes to start the day, I feel as if those minutes pass more slowly, stretching out like putty.
lyric
She sits on my lap with a book of illustrated nursery rhymes; we're in the soft blue chair in the corner, near the lamp and her drawers full of teacups and dolls. We go through the book a few times; sometimes she leads, sometimes I lead, taking turns choosing the songs. She names the prominent figures in each picture, points to them, describes their colorful expressions; she sounds the words and melody of each song carefully, as if the rhymes will fracture if she's not gentle with them. Her hands turn each page with slow clumsy reverence.
senator
On the train the man sitting in front of me is a U.S. senator. He conducts several long cell phone conversations on the intricacies of law, the impact of proposed policies, and the need to battle government corruption and wasteful spending. Ok, fine, I'll be serious. What he actually discusses is several ways of staying afloat - how to raise money, how to write an indignant press release about an organization that just endorsed his opponent, how to zero in on his opponent's weaknesses. That, and when his driver should be waiting for him when he disembarks from the train. On the plus side, at least he's travelling by train (and not even business class!) rather than jetting around like a lot of his colleagues.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Of fire alarms in the middle of the night
My apartment building has a building-wide fire alarm system. Management routinely tests this fire alarm system. Said system repeatedly malfunctions, going off with no provocation at all. It sounds like a shrieking chorus of colossal crickets. Crickets that crop up at all hours of the day (or night), including 1:00 a.m., when you're sleeping and it's snowing outside and really all you want is to remain curled up in bed, but that alarm is relentless, and you need to escape.
So it's good to think of the positives. I appreciate that there isn't an actual emergency. I appreciate my bed more, and my blankets. I like how it's a bonding experience for the people in my building - standing outside on a snowy street, in pajamas and enormous coats. How there's beauty in the nighttime with snow falling, a kind of secret quietness to it (because really snow is something that tends to surprise you the next morning, as if it appeared suddenly and not after a night's quiet work).
So glad to be back in bed now though.
(Trying not to think of the safety implications of a fire alarm system that sounds repeated false alarms.)
So it's good to think of the positives. I appreciate that there isn't an actual emergency. I appreciate my bed more, and my blankets. I like how it's a bonding experience for the people in my building - standing outside on a snowy street, in pajamas and enormous coats. How there's beauty in the nighttime with snow falling, a kind of secret quietness to it (because really snow is something that tends to surprise you the next morning, as if it appeared suddenly and not after a night's quiet work).
So glad to be back in bed now though.
(Trying not to think of the safety implications of a fire alarm system that sounds repeated false alarms.)
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