Week in Seven Words #537

This covers the week of 5/3/20 - 5/9/20.

blocked

On our walk, we head to an art museum in the hopes of seeing into it from the outside. From what I remember, it has some large windows. We find them shuttered.

converging

Multiple sources of stress converge into a tension headache.

permute

Our walks are limited to a relatively small radius, so we're getting inventive about places to visit, new combinations of paths to take.

ripping

A rending wind pushes us down the street. It sends up a swirl of litter. The tulips are half bald, the cherry blossoms cast to the ground.

springtime

Clean air and the colors of tulips and azaleas. One path is pink with fallen cherry blossoms, a lush carpet that will soon get trampled into the mud.

unreadable

The large turtle is very still, as if it's one with the rock formation on which it's sunning. The stillness of the moment breaks with the noise of an airplane. It's writing something across the crisp blue sky, but the letters are too blurry to read.

zeroing

Police hand out citations to people who aren't wearing masks.

Two Very Different Short Stories Featuring the Wind

Title: Mistral
Author: Raoul Whitfield
Where I Read It: Hard-Boiled: An Anthology of American Crime Stories

The mistral is a violent wind best known for its effects on Provence in the south of France. The wind may rage for hours at a time. In Raoul Whitfield's story, it mirrors some of the moral chaos in the plot and represents a powerful force that a person can't escape.

The main character is a private detective whose agency has tasked him with finding a criminal on the run. The detective comes to realize that the man he's looking for is marked for death; the people who hired the agency are also criminals, and their purpose is murder. Caught in these dangerous, morally muddy circumstances, the detective realizes he has an opportunity to give his target a warning. Why would he want to help him get away? Maybe there's something honorable about it – giving one criminal a fighting chance against other criminals.

Title: A Windy Day
Author: Janet Frame
Where I Read It: Prizes

The sun is fresh, never left standing or sour, poured out clean on the stones for the dusty-throated wind to lick.

"A Windy Day" is a delightful, fresh, poetic, and unsettling picture of seasonal change. In this case, the arrival of spring. The author doesn't settle for observations of flowers blooming or ice thawing. She makes the changes disconcerting. She takes the familiar and renders it fantastical and topsy-turvy.

The motorcyclist, his knees tight against his mount, surges through the tidal streets, riding a seahorse to the lonely shore.

Reading this piece, you see the world wide-eyed and appreciate how strange it can be. Day-to-day life doesn't have to be ordinary.

Week in Seven Words #470

disconnecting
I see people tuning out of politics because of the craziness overload. The feeling of disconnect is understandable. But with greater disengagement, particularly from people who are more sensible and moderate, there will also be greater extremism and corruption.

fractions
He understands pieces of the math – a rule about square roots, another about order of operations – but how to bring it all together? That's the really tough part. The word problems are especially confusing.

gaps
On adjacent blocks: luxury developments and project housing. Few storefronts, except for a convenience store almost walled-in by construction scaffolding. Sidewalks mostly empty.

gusting
Along the water, the wind almost carries people away like bits of fluff.

mob
The gleeful malice of people who know they have the mob on their side. For the time being they can avoid accountability and critical self-reflection. They're all pumped up and ready to tear other people apart, the easier the target the better. None of this is about courage.

strain
Signs of his nervousness: showing up late and taking frequent bathroom breaks.

temperate
An hour of mild conversation at a cafe, like a soak in tepid water.

Week in Seven Words #440

atremble
Strong winds course across the rooftop. The plants and wooden stakes shiver.

booing
One of the ways they bond is by sneering about politicians they both hate.

feelingly
Now that she has started using emotion words, she likes to declare what she feels. ("Angry! Angry.")

focused
He'd be a good person to work with, because he just wants to do the job well without any fuss.

mine
The baby finds the small bag of dried mango that one of her older brothers really likes. She bites into a piece with a growl of satisfied possession. Because he's the closest in age to her, she especially enjoys claiming his stuff.

refreshingly
It's family pool time. One girl is stretched out on a lounge chair reading after a swim. Her dad tosses around her younger brother. The kids weave around each other in the water.

welling
The warm, gentle surprise, when love comes to me unexpectedly.

Week in Seven Words #397

casually
Babies can be so nonchalant. This one has a cold, and without pause, she sneezes straight into her dad's face, then continues peering around and reaching for things.

characterization
"This time, it's going to be different," he says, "I'm going to write fiction that has characters. I mean, they're going to be like people this time."

diffuse
The number of people at the table makes it so that there isn't any pressure on me to speak; at the same time, I'll have someone to talk to (and something to talk about) when I choose.

dodge
He senses the pressure placed on him to read the words, to make the effort exactly to the adult's specifications, and he ducks behind his phone.

fluttering
She holds her troll doll in the air to watch the wind comb through its hair.

recuperate
The first night is rough, because my throat is raw and painful. The next day passes on wobbly legs. Then the second night comes, and with it, thankfully, a deep, healing sleep that helps so much.

riparian
We walk on a sandy path by the river. It runs like a thread through needly pale green shrubs.

Week in Seven Words #374

glancing
She wishes her experiences would have more weight and texture. She thinks she's skimming over everything, recognizing but not appreciating beauty.

interior
The suggestiveness of a bookcase, paintings, plants, and piles of papers glimpsed through a window.

jittery
Wind chimes chattering by an empty street.

pangs
The mural reminds her of home - a two-story house in a wooded lot, with a driveway shaped like the head of a cobra.

slip
I try to feel around the edges of her carefully curated personality for what I think is there - her, her self, whatever that means.

strained
Waiting to learn the outcome of her hospital visit. Stomach clenching every time the phone rings.

suburbia
The sidewalk has disintegrated to a narrow shoulder of road, and I'm reminded of the suburb I grew up in. A nail salon, an Italian restaurant, a bagel store, and a laundromat in a clot beside an artery of traffic.

Week in Seven Words #356

carping
Today, I'm an eyebrow that isn't properly tweezed. Tomorrow, I'll be a forehead pimple. By which blemish will I be assessed the day after?

drift
They express their political stance by posting a meme or buying a product featured in a feel-good commercial from a large corporation.

flatulence
He has made the mistake of giving broccoli to the dog.

pedagogy
They're stuck with an indifferent teacher who asks nothing and accepts almost anything. In response, they ask their teacher almost nothing and ignore almost everything.

poise
When only the orchestra is playing, the violinist stands calmly, surrounded by the storm of music.

punctual
I tell her that I need to talk to her mom for a couple of minutes, then I'll be ready to play. At the two-minute mark, she pops up from behind a cabinet, startling me and reminding me of my promise.

tickle
The wind feels like dozens of gentle pats to the face.

Week in Seven Words #324

braying
He bullies away the gaps in his knowledge, filling them with loudness.

dispensing
The driver reacts to the near-collision by shouting at everyone else.

follicular
Wind that could tear the hair from your scalp.

jitters
When asking for feedback on her poems, she doesn't expect a blast of criticism, but braces herself just in case. It's an act of vulnerability.

lakeside
The branch has landed in a silken reflection of trees and clouds.

perch
The tree has a bare trunk and a tangled mass of branches at the top, like a nest for a giant bird.

portraiture
I pose badly, she says. It's in the way I hold my chin, look past her shoulder, keep my lips pursed so I won't laugh. But it doesn't matter, because the end result is the same: two sets of ellipses for eyes and glasses, a beaming crescent mouth, and a nose that looks like a raven in flight. I cherish it.

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.

Week in Seven Words #248

conniption
The wind, fierce and fretful, throws a tantrum among the trees.

expose
The trail overlooks people's backyards. What do they think about the strange hikers who can peer into their windows at any time of day?

glinting
There is sweat on her upper lip, and her smile is blinding. She would prefer if you look at her smile and not at her eyes.

gold-leaf
Leaves and loose rock underfoot. Gold spreading gloriously overhead.

osseous
All that's left of a home: two stone walls, roof tiles littering the ground, a chimney decaying like a tooth.

splashed
The river throws the sunlight off its back and into our eyes.

thoroughfare
Learning the contours of a river from a train, a forest ridge, and two bridges.

Week in Seven Words #193

counterpoints
Most of their conversation consists of the same complaints getting aired, followed by the same bits of reassurance and advice. The advice-giver's voice remains steady, a series of low round notes. The complainer alternates between an agitated but soft melodic line and the occasional crescendo to keep us all on the edge of our seats.

flagging
The buses can't travel a block without wheezing. The newspapers twist in pain beside the curb.

hijinks
What they've tuned into reminds me of some of the T.V. shows I used to watch as a kid. The ones with multi-talented teens who seem to do everything at their high school except study and go to classes.

prisoner
Traces of a plaster face on the wall, the white mouth shaped into a tiny 'O' and the eyes blank.

soupy
Steam seems to come off of everyone at the restaurant. All the diners are dumplings.

tact
She listens with all outwards signs of compassion. Inwardly she's wondering how much time has passed and how best to interrupt without seeming to interrupt.

torrent
The wind rushes across the river in the dark, flooding the street and making the leaf-shadows dance.

Week in Seven Words #190

alias
He introduces himself by one name and gives me a business card with a different one. "They're both my names, in a way," he says without further explanation.

brisk
Windswept park benches are my new favorite place to read.

commiserating
It feels good to talk to someone who understands family dysfunctions and can laugh about them mirthlessly with you.

mannerless
They press against the tables and gouge the food platters.

punctured
She's a shrewdly cute old woman, but it's easy to imagine her fifty years younger, lording it over her children, deflating them.

relics
Her apartment contains antiques, stained glass, and undisturbed shadows.

sanguineness
We drag our chairs out into the sunlight and talk about how to be inspired.

Week in Seven Words #182

hurried
A cold wind whisks me off the bench.

merry-go-round
Toddlers play tag, round and round the fountain in a flurry of giggles and screams. It falls on the youngest, a boy with curly brown hair and a shy smile, to be "it" most of the time; occasionally, his mother scoops him up and runs with him to give him an advantage over the others.

pestilential
At a small park by the subway station, a rat pokes around an elevated bed of shrubs, as people sit and read and chat just a foot or two from its twitching nose.

pyretic
The clock face looks feverish in the dark.

rags
A curtain of gnats hang over the lakeside path.

stomp
The show is a celebration of percussion; anything from stomping feet to brooms to trashcans can be turned into a musical instrument. Even newspapers can rustle together in a compelling rhythm.

unhurried
I'm not sure where I am, only that it won't be hard to find my way out. In the meantime, I'm surprised by the appearance of a swampy pond, a stream pouring over leaf matter and rock, a clearing covered in yellow grass where an empty bench awaits a reader.

Week in Seven Words #115

[Note: I finished writing this 'week in seven words' last night and was prepared to post it earlier today. I then got the news that my grandpa passed away. After this post I plan to take a week off or so from the blog.]

digestive
During the main meal of the second Seder, we decide to take a break after the soup and salad. A break from eating. All holiday we've been eating. So we stop for a game of Scrabble, keeping score in our heads.

patella
A moment of weightlessness before my left knee hits the concrete.

playfully
Making more matzah balls - the mixture is messy and delicious.

sight-seeing
From 66th street I walk down Broadway to the southern tip of Manhattan. Along the way I get the different flavors of a single street. Midtown's large commercial buildings with glossy windows. The frenetic ads and crowds in Times Square. Further south, Macy's, construction, small businesses topped by apartments, a few parks and squares floating in a cloud of pink blossoms. NYU's campus, more stores (some closed and papered over), the horizontal streets no longer numbered. Old Manhattan - churches and graveyards, Wall Street, then Bowling Green and Battery Park. Beyond that the harbor, gray and windy.

still life
The tulips and lisianthus glow in the lamplight.

vicarious
One evening I'm introduced to a Batman Lego video game. I don't get it. Why not just have a regular Batman? This Batman looks like a Lego figurine, and you can press on buttons to have him build stuff for you on the screen. But it's not as if you're the one building anything. I guess I don't understand the point of a Lego product that doesn't involve the manual manipulation of pieces.

windblown
At Bowling Green the wind combs through the red tulips and flattens them alongside the fountain.

Week in Seven Words #113

auriferous
A movie night with a paranoid Humphrey Bogart, a motor-mouthed Walter Huston, and a gaggle of bandits and burros.

crated
The first stages of packing: DVDs and CDs in shoeboxes and books in Yaffa blocks.

paradoxical
I sometimes become the sort of person who isn't at peace unless she has something to worry about.

patties
We sit down to a meal of hamburgers and coleslaw. Our conversation unfolds mostly in variations of "mmmm, this is the best hamburger ever!"

possessed
The black plastic bag dances in the wind like an imp, taunting the customers at the café.

ruffled
A cold wind blasts into the city, agitating litter and telephone poles.

unhinged
The afternoon takes a turn for the absurd with a hunt for a new toilet seat.