cacophonous
We sit across from each other in a tiny office. Construction noise shatters our conversation.
fountain
The water in the fountain is dark and murky. Lily pads float in the basin. Partly a fountain, partly a pond, presided over by the statue of an angel.
models
The planes, which have been used for war, now look like painted toys displayed in unrelenting sunlight.
petrological
Anxiety: small, sharp stones on a stream bed churning in a powerful current. Regret: boulders thundering down a hillside.
plaza
Metal chairs beneath branches delicate as bones. Many people are reading, scrolling through websites, or sharing silence with friends. One man is alone and insane. He's ranting about $10 and listening to Elton John and Phil Collins on a small radio.
sweatiness
We push our way through the stuffy, narrow corridors of a ship. What must it have felt and smelled like, powering through the Tropics in days of no deodorant or A/C?
wistfully
The dog leaps at me and puts her paws up on my legs for a neck massage and chest rub. One guy looking on says that he could use a massage to his neck too.
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Saturday, February 8, 2020
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
Bye, Autumn
These Central Park photos are from a beautiful day at the end of October. It had unexpected warmth. (And, towards the end of the day, I got an unexpected sting from what was probably a bee. This was followed by a massive howling rainstorm. But up to that point, the day was a dream.)
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Week in Seven Words #172
attentive
Beneath a tree that's touching the ground with its upper branches, they read the Ten Commandments. People listen quietly and eat ice cream.
forced
He thinks that if he stops telling jokes, he'll be boring. People will wonder why they're talking to him. So he doesn't relax. It's a fine day outside, and he's got a kindly, patient audience, but he can't stop forcing the jokes.
goofiness
Without prompting, he belts out a funny song and acts out all the voices. Silliness can be beautiful.
oenophile
A large dog in a wine shop, moseying among the shelves.
reactions
Because we all talk when watching TV, it still winds up being quality time with them. In reaction to what's on the screen, they reveal things about what they think and feel, and they ask questions.
tête-à-tête
A bench beneath a tree by a fountain. The shadows in the afternoon move slowly.
wearying
I look around, and I can't truthfully say I'm eager to meet any of them.
Beneath a tree that's touching the ground with its upper branches, they read the Ten Commandments. People listen quietly and eat ice cream.
forced
He thinks that if he stops telling jokes, he'll be boring. People will wonder why they're talking to him. So he doesn't relax. It's a fine day outside, and he's got a kindly, patient audience, but he can't stop forcing the jokes.
goofiness
Without prompting, he belts out a funny song and acts out all the voices. Silliness can be beautiful.
oenophile
A large dog in a wine shop, moseying among the shelves.
reactions
Because we all talk when watching TV, it still winds up being quality time with them. In reaction to what's on the screen, they reveal things about what they think and feel, and they ask questions.
tête-à-tête
A bench beneath a tree by a fountain. The shadows in the afternoon move slowly.
wearying
I look around, and I can't truthfully say I'm eager to meet any of them.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Week in Seven Words #145
gauze
Fat snowflakes swimming past my eyes. The world is wrapped up in snow.
macabre
Despair is always waiting with open arms but I don't look his way, not this time.
masonry
In the subway car I'm just one brick in a wall of solid flesh.
morphed
The dog got a haircut. Now when she stretches up on her hind legs to poke her nose over the edge of the table she looks part-canine, part-rodent, and part-pixie, with liquid alien eyes.
pointless
Conversations with people who have a gleam in their eye that tells me they're not really hearing me out, just waiting to pounce on what they expect to hear. Why should I talk, when they already know what I'm going to say?
simulation
Before reading comes pretend reading, where she turns the pages, recites the words she knows by heart, points out the pictures, and to all appearances looks as if she's reading.
wobbly
I'm heading into new territory on unsteady legs, as if there's ice under my feet.
Fat snowflakes swimming past my eyes. The world is wrapped up in snow.
macabre
Despair is always waiting with open arms but I don't look his way, not this time.
masonry
In the subway car I'm just one brick in a wall of solid flesh.
morphed
The dog got a haircut. Now when she stretches up on her hind legs to poke her nose over the edge of the table she looks part-canine, part-rodent, and part-pixie, with liquid alien eyes.
pointless
Conversations with people who have a gleam in their eye that tells me they're not really hearing me out, just waiting to pounce on what they expect to hear. Why should I talk, when they already know what I'm going to say?
simulation
Before reading comes pretend reading, where she turns the pages, recites the words she knows by heart, points out the pictures, and to all appearances looks as if she's reading.
wobbly
I'm heading into new territory on unsteady legs, as if there's ice under my feet.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Week in Seven Words #138
felicitous
Meeting kind people in stairwells.
fervent
He holds the last shofar note for an eternity. In that note is every hope, appeal, and wordless scream.
impeded
The men behind me in line at the post office act as if they're in purgatory: they lament the delay, dissect the reasons for the delay, wonder aloud how long they must wait until they can hand their letters or parcels over for deliverance.
indifferent
He's become accustomed to speaking about people as if they're abstractions. He prides himself on talking about heinous crimes with little feeling or outrage and providing "logical" explanations of crime and justice that sound tidy on paper but fall apart when applied to the messy reality of human life. I think he derives superiority from feeling that he's "above it all" when for the most part he's confusing callousness with rationality. But his comments do highlight how any system of justice on Earth will always have shortcomings of one kind or another, though some of course are much worse than others.
nectar
The sign that the High Holidays have commenced: a dish of honey on the table, for dipping challah and apple slices.
unburdening
Casting my sins into a soft swollen gray river.
unmasked
At first she seems sullen and withdrawn. But just give her the chance to speak, without getting impatient or trying to win her over with fake smiles, and a more interesting picture emerges.
Meeting kind people in stairwells.
fervent
He holds the last shofar note for an eternity. In that note is every hope, appeal, and wordless scream.
impeded
The men behind me in line at the post office act as if they're in purgatory: they lament the delay, dissect the reasons for the delay, wonder aloud how long they must wait until they can hand their letters or parcels over for deliverance.
indifferent
He's become accustomed to speaking about people as if they're abstractions. He prides himself on talking about heinous crimes with little feeling or outrage and providing "logical" explanations of crime and justice that sound tidy on paper but fall apart when applied to the messy reality of human life. I think he derives superiority from feeling that he's "above it all" when for the most part he's confusing callousness with rationality. But his comments do highlight how any system of justice on Earth will always have shortcomings of one kind or another, though some of course are much worse than others.
nectar
The sign that the High Holidays have commenced: a dish of honey on the table, for dipping challah and apple slices.
unburdening
Casting my sins into a soft swollen gray river.
unmasked
At first she seems sullen and withdrawn. But just give her the chance to speak, without getting impatient or trying to win her over with fake smiles, and a more interesting picture emerges.
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.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Scenes from a green Fourth of July
One of the day's highlights was walking by the lake in Central Park and through the Ramble, which is my favorite part of the park.
Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now?
- from "You Reading This, Be Ready" by William Stafford
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, March 30, 2012
Week in Seven Words #112
dramatic
A small group of tourists stands at the curbside and shouts at a squirrel to get off the road. "Watch out! Cars are coming!" It reminds me of people who yell at the screen during a horror movie ("Run, run! No, not upstairs!"). At last the squirrel does turn around and head back onto the grass instead of trying to cross the street. The tourists cheer. I don't know how much credit they give themselves for the squirrel's self-preserving choice.
grating
Sitting on a sunlit patio while waiting for the bus, I hear an eardrum-busting excuse for music coming from a loud speaker by a restaurant. It sounds as if someone had roared and slobbered into a microphone and recorded it for posterity.
grinding
The subway scrapes along the tracks, setting people's teeth on edge.
inked
Digital fingerprinting doesn't work for me for the most part, so I have to get it done the old inky way, as part of a background check for a potential job. When I'm done I'm tempted to finger paint on the yellow-gray walls.
kinetosis
When the bus is out on the freeway I can read. But when it hits traffic or starts to lurch through the city I have to close my eyes to stave off motion sickness.
radiate
As she talks about her troubles over the phone I stare at a patch of sunlight by the lake. I want to bring us both into that light, so we can stand together in it and be warm.
stealthy
As the geese sun themselves obliviously on the rock, the ducks sneak past them and go for the breadcrumbs.
A small group of tourists stands at the curbside and shouts at a squirrel to get off the road. "Watch out! Cars are coming!" It reminds me of people who yell at the screen during a horror movie ("Run, run! No, not upstairs!"). At last the squirrel does turn around and head back onto the grass instead of trying to cross the street. The tourists cheer. I don't know how much credit they give themselves for the squirrel's self-preserving choice.
grating
Sitting on a sunlit patio while waiting for the bus, I hear an eardrum-busting excuse for music coming from a loud speaker by a restaurant. It sounds as if someone had roared and slobbered into a microphone and recorded it for posterity.
grinding
The subway scrapes along the tracks, setting people's teeth on edge.
inked
Digital fingerprinting doesn't work for me for the most part, so I have to get it done the old inky way, as part of a background check for a potential job. When I'm done I'm tempted to finger paint on the yellow-gray walls.
kinetosis
When the bus is out on the freeway I can read. But when it hits traffic or starts to lurch through the city I have to close my eyes to stave off motion sickness.
radiate
As she talks about her troubles over the phone I stare at a patch of sunlight by the lake. I want to bring us both into that light, so we can stand together in it and be warm.
stealthy
As the geese sun themselves obliviously on the rock, the ducks sneak past them and go for the breadcrumbs.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
"It's good to live it again"
A little over a year ago I posted photos of autumn in New York - more specifically Central Park - that I took on Thanksgiving weekend 2010.
Now just this past Thanksgiving I returned to Central Park with my camera, for another taste of my favorite season in one of the loveliest places I know of.
Now just this past Thanksgiving I returned to Central Park with my camera, for another taste of my favorite season in one of the loveliest places I know of.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Week in Seven Words #91
entreat
Soliciting food, the cat butts its head against my shins. Under the table its eyes glow, beseeching.
expansive
The lake in Central Park isn't as large as it seems to us. From where we sit it seems to spread out for many blocks, disappearing in a bend beyond the bright trees and sliding away past the Bow Bridge.
ichthyology
Fifteen minutes of people-watching from inside a coffee shop. The large window shows a rainy street, umbrellas writhing and jerking in the wind, people swimming through the rain and flopping breathless into the shop.
nestled
After tea and a warm shower, I slip into the large comfortable bed and lie awake for several minutes as the room seems to hum around me.
parry
At the walk-in flu shot clinic there are three tables set up, each with a nurse. As I fill out the forms, I hear a startled "Owww!" from a lady at the first table. Maybe she's sensitive, I think uneasily. The next woman who goes there clenches her fists as her face crumples in agony. A man follows her and bites down on his lip until it bleeds. My companion notices the nurse's technique: a swooping sideways thrust that seems to go for the bone. When the guy organizing the clinic tries to nudge us towards the stab-happy nurse, we plant ourselves next to the other tables instead.
spectacles
I look for a pair of glasses that are unobtrusive, that don't leap out of my face in brash designs or completely alter the shape of my eyes. Good glasses shouldn't call attention to themselves. But that also means they're more difficult to find on the shelves, among the showier models.
zesty
Dinner guests mixing together are a kind of recipe as well; each person is a different ingredient with his or her own flavor. Unusual combinations can prove delicious. (And yes, I sound like Hannibal Lecter.)
Soliciting food, the cat butts its head against my shins. Under the table its eyes glow, beseeching.
expansive
The lake in Central Park isn't as large as it seems to us. From where we sit it seems to spread out for many blocks, disappearing in a bend beyond the bright trees and sliding away past the Bow Bridge.
ichthyology
Fifteen minutes of people-watching from inside a coffee shop. The large window shows a rainy street, umbrellas writhing and jerking in the wind, people swimming through the rain and flopping breathless into the shop.
nestled
After tea and a warm shower, I slip into the large comfortable bed and lie awake for several minutes as the room seems to hum around me.
parry
At the walk-in flu shot clinic there are three tables set up, each with a nurse. As I fill out the forms, I hear a startled "Owww!" from a lady at the first table. Maybe she's sensitive, I think uneasily. The next woman who goes there clenches her fists as her face crumples in agony. A man follows her and bites down on his lip until it bleeds. My companion notices the nurse's technique: a swooping sideways thrust that seems to go for the bone. When the guy organizing the clinic tries to nudge us towards the stab-happy nurse, we plant ourselves next to the other tables instead.
spectacles
I look for a pair of glasses that are unobtrusive, that don't leap out of my face in brash designs or completely alter the shape of my eyes. Good glasses shouldn't call attention to themselves. But that also means they're more difficult to find on the shelves, among the showier models.
zesty
Dinner guests mixing together are a kind of recipe as well; each person is a different ingredient with his or her own flavor. Unusual combinations can prove delicious. (And yes, I sound like Hannibal Lecter.)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
"Autumn in New York..."
"... why does it feel so inviting?"
"Dreamers with empty hands
may sigh for exotic lands;
It's autumn in New York -
it's good to live it again."
(Billie Holiday singing "Autumn in New York" brings a smile to my heart.)
"Dreamers with empty hands
may sigh for exotic lands;
It's autumn in New York -
it's good to live it again."
(Billie Holiday singing "Autumn in New York" brings a smile to my heart.)
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Week in Seven Words #38
abstruse
It's like reading The Jabberwocky, only no fun at all - a highly technical book with lots of (to me it seems) made-up words. I go galumphing through the text in search of mental toeholds.
distressed
Many parched hours, punched-through with doubt. A reminder that I'm weaker than I hope to be.
fatigue
Pale green comforter. Pale blue pillow. Crawling under, curling up, hoping that a restful sleep will come.
intimation
On the sidewalk, leaves scrape and tumble across the flickering shadows of the leaves that hang overhead.
medley
In one building, the people I encounter include a chef, several cadets, a guy who bangs out Gershwin in a room by himself, another who's happy I'm his guide for a half hour, and a girl who's polite and faintly homesick.
passer-by
It's a mild afternoon, full of warm sunshine and a breeze that feels benevolent. Every bench I walk by beckons me to sit for a while. I wish I could; instead I'm headed to a place where computers glare, copy machines whir, and a smell of stale ink hangs over everything.
ripple
Little kindnesses ring true and ripple out into the world - a smile, a door that's held open, a sincere compliment that isn't held back, a word of encouragement or love. These seem like small things but they're not; they spread from one life to another to another. They restore, repair and heal.
It's like reading The Jabberwocky, only no fun at all - a highly technical book with lots of (to me it seems) made-up words. I go galumphing through the text in search of mental toeholds.
distressed
Many parched hours, punched-through with doubt. A reminder that I'm weaker than I hope to be.
fatigue
Pale green comforter. Pale blue pillow. Crawling under, curling up, hoping that a restful sleep will come.
intimation
On the sidewalk, leaves scrape and tumble across the flickering shadows of the leaves that hang overhead.
medley
In one building, the people I encounter include a chef, several cadets, a guy who bangs out Gershwin in a room by himself, another who's happy I'm his guide for a half hour, and a girl who's polite and faintly homesick.
passer-by
It's a mild afternoon, full of warm sunshine and a breeze that feels benevolent. Every bench I walk by beckons me to sit for a while. I wish I could; instead I'm headed to a place where computers glare, copy machines whir, and a smell of stale ink hangs over everything.
ripple
Little kindnesses ring true and ripple out into the world - a smile, a door that's held open, a sincere compliment that isn't held back, a word of encouragement or love. These seem like small things but they're not; they spread from one life to another to another. They restore, repair and heal.
Monday, May 31, 2010
More from Washington Square Park
A flame that burns constantly -
(But where there might have been another powerful quote or passage on that little plaque, there are instead some exasperating words of caution - a reminder of some people's diminished common sense and how litigious our society is.)
A procession with flags marks the start of a memorial ceremony.
Those assembled recite the Pledge of Allegiance, sing the National Anthem, and talk about never forgetting the sacrifices of those who serve in the military.
And during other times in the afternoon -
People seem to be gathered to hear Washington speak. And some of his words are on the memorial wall:
"The independence and liberty you possess are the work of joint councils and joint efforts of common dangers, suffering and success" (Washington Farewell Address, Sept. 17, 1796)
Some observe the monument intently.
Others warn their toddlers away from the flames.
Or they're off to the side, on their laptops.
The day is clear, burning and bright.
(But where there might have been another powerful quote or passage on that little plaque, there are instead some exasperating words of caution - a reminder of some people's diminished common sense and how litigious our society is.)
A procession with flags marks the start of a memorial ceremony.
Those assembled recite the Pledge of Allegiance, sing the National Anthem, and talk about never forgetting the sacrifices of those who serve in the military.
And during other times in the afternoon -
People seem to be gathered to hear Washington speak. And some of his words are on the memorial wall:
"The independence and liberty you possess are the work of joint councils and joint efforts of common dangers, suffering and success" (Washington Farewell Address, Sept. 17, 1796)
Some observe the monument intently.
Others warn their toddlers away from the flames.
Or they're off to the side, on their laptops.
The day is clear, burning and bright.
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