Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Friday, March 14, 2014
Week in Seven Words #208 & 209
208
contrary
I tell her that she can sit on the rug, if she likes. She smiles and sits just off the rug, by an inch.
defenses
Kids scale the dirty hills of snow on the curbside. They turn them into ice forts, seared black by the breath of dragons.
promenading
Broken ice parades on the river. One piece looks like a miniature mountain, another like a shallow bowl of soup. A third is bearing birds towards the ocean.
scavenge
Shoppers tear apart a store gone bankrupt.
sophisticate
He's too young to understand the jokes, but old enough to want to laugh along.
sourcing
A small diner. Photos of organically grown vegetables over a grotty ketchup dispenser.
spitting
The beat taps and hisses beneath the melodic line.
contrary
I tell her that she can sit on the rug, if she likes. She smiles and sits just off the rug, by an inch.
defenses
Kids scale the dirty hills of snow on the curbside. They turn them into ice forts, seared black by the breath of dragons.
promenading
Broken ice parades on the river. One piece looks like a miniature mountain, another like a shallow bowl of soup. A third is bearing birds towards the ocean.
scavenge
Shoppers tear apart a store gone bankrupt.
sophisticate
He's too young to understand the jokes, but old enough to want to laugh along.
sourcing
A small diner. Photos of organically grown vegetables over a grotty ketchup dispenser.
spitting
The beat taps and hisses beneath the melodic line.
Friday, March 7, 2014
Week in Seven Words #206 & 207
206
controlled
Sometimes the only way to avoid falling is to lower yourself to your knees, by choice, before finding firmer ground to stand on.
dictates
She does her best to convince me to go against my conscience, and she almost succeeds. But at the end, I do what I'll be able to live with.
gendered
Their rooms: a pink glow, a blue cove.
leached
Weary greeters, looking washed out under the fluorescent lights.
prickle
He's uncomfortable with being sensitive, so he hides it with a snotty attitude. She's also sensitive, but she cries when she needs to.
starved
At the head of every line is an elderly person who turns shopping into a social opportunity. Maybe it's the only time that day they'll talk to someone. They'll hold up the line if they need to, by dwelling on the finer points of their receipts and exploring the depths of pockets and bags to stall for time.
thermic
Wearing a winter coat indoors while I work.
207
bone-weary
The voice on the other end of the line is hoarse and quiet.
chalky
Her lips twist as she returns the chocolates. Beneath the foil, she found a stale crumble.
darken
Another light has winked out.
mess
Messy, dirty snow and painful cold.
storytellers
What happens to children whose personal voice has been pounded out of them? How do they regain the ability to tell stories about their lives with some sense of self-assurance?
tracks
They're brisk and efficient. Their mind is always on what they'll be doing next, and what they should be doing according to a magazine, a website, their friends and family and co-workers. They operate on a schedule that's daunting. There are few moments to stop and think; every pause prompts the appearance of a smartphone. And this is why, as friendly as we may be towards each other, we stop short of actual friendship. Sometimes I think it's like the express train vs. the local, occasionally making it to the station at the same time, but on different tracks. But that's an imperfect analogy.
wolfish
In the guise of helping others, they express an intense selfishness.
controlled
Sometimes the only way to avoid falling is to lower yourself to your knees, by choice, before finding firmer ground to stand on.
dictates
She does her best to convince me to go against my conscience, and she almost succeeds. But at the end, I do what I'll be able to live with.
gendered
Their rooms: a pink glow, a blue cove.
leached
Weary greeters, looking washed out under the fluorescent lights.
prickle
He's uncomfortable with being sensitive, so he hides it with a snotty attitude. She's also sensitive, but she cries when she needs to.
starved
At the head of every line is an elderly person who turns shopping into a social opportunity. Maybe it's the only time that day they'll talk to someone. They'll hold up the line if they need to, by dwelling on the finer points of their receipts and exploring the depths of pockets and bags to stall for time.
thermic
Wearing a winter coat indoors while I work.
207
bone-weary
The voice on the other end of the line is hoarse and quiet.
chalky
Her lips twist as she returns the chocolates. Beneath the foil, she found a stale crumble.
darken
Another light has winked out.
mess
Messy, dirty snow and painful cold.
storytellers
What happens to children whose personal voice has been pounded out of them? How do they regain the ability to tell stories about their lives with some sense of self-assurance?
tracks
They're brisk and efficient. Their mind is always on what they'll be doing next, and what they should be doing according to a magazine, a website, their friends and family and co-workers. They operate on a schedule that's daunting. There are few moments to stop and think; every pause prompts the appearance of a smartphone. And this is why, as friendly as we may be towards each other, we stop short of actual friendship. Sometimes I think it's like the express train vs. the local, occasionally making it to the station at the same time, but on different tracks. But that's an imperfect analogy.
wolfish
In the guise of helping others, they express an intense selfishness.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
NYC Window-Shopping Walk: Columbus Circle to 5th Avenue to Greenwich Village
This past Thursday, the temperatures peaked in the high 40s, maybe low 50s (Fahrenheit), which is practically a heat wave considering what the winter's been like. Good weather for a walk.
It starts in Columbus Circle.
Walk south to 57th, and then head east, past Carnegie Hall and the Russian Tea Room:
And an antique shop offering wares that look enchanted or cursed:
It starts in Columbus Circle.
Walk south to 57th, and then head east, past Carnegie Hall and the Russian Tea Room:
And an antique shop offering wares that look enchanted or cursed:
Week in Seven Words #204 & 205
204
aseptic
Pearls of dark chocolate and mint, spilled onto Purelled hands.
echoes
Haven't we had this conversation before? In our respective chairs, one of us talking more than the other?
hometown
I take a dialect quiz (focusing on pronunciation, and certain vocab and expressions), and the results are supposed to tell you what region of the US you're from. As it turns out, the way I speak fits closest to these three cities: San Jose, Fremont, and Honolulu. Also, I'm generally a very strong fit with Long Island, NY. Given that I was born in California and spent close to six years of my life in southern California, then the rest of my childhood on Long Island, these are pretty accurate results.
keratinous
The days are slight, as thin as fingernails.
revival
Embers in me that I want to coax back to life.
sorted
The animals have one corner of the floor; the plants have the other. In his world, at this time, they can't mingle.
tonedeaf
"Are you with someone?" he asks, his eyes scanning the room, fishing for additional prospects. "Yes," I say. "If it doesn't work out," he immediately says, in a business-like tone, "could I be the first one to know? Let me know, right after." Yep. That's exactly what I'm going to do. The first thing I'll think of in the aftermath of a break-up is you. And I do in fact get his business card, with two phone numbers. His customer service skills are impeccable.
205
abrade
This is the kind of cold that scrubs away at your cheeks like steel wool.
arctic
I don't know how they do it - plunge into the cold water without their hearts stopping.
cellar
The space beneath my desk is very cold. I could chill wine in there, where the heat hasn't made its way.
earthy
Deft fingers on the mandolin and a rough and honest voice. Magnificent.
satiny
A sky like gray silk.
sisal
They're a married couple with no apparent chemistry. No shared looks, no laughter in their eyes, just a tiredness in the way they move and talk to each other. As if they'd always rather be in different rooms. There's no sense of what's holding them together except for social acceptableness.
versifying
Hours of poetry, some earnestly awful and some of it beautiful. It's been a while since I had the pleasure of listening to poetry read out loud. Even the bad poetry sounds better read out loud.
aseptic
Pearls of dark chocolate and mint, spilled onto Purelled hands.
echoes
Haven't we had this conversation before? In our respective chairs, one of us talking more than the other?
hometown
I take a dialect quiz (focusing on pronunciation, and certain vocab and expressions), and the results are supposed to tell you what region of the US you're from. As it turns out, the way I speak fits closest to these three cities: San Jose, Fremont, and Honolulu. Also, I'm generally a very strong fit with Long Island, NY. Given that I was born in California and spent close to six years of my life in southern California, then the rest of my childhood on Long Island, these are pretty accurate results.
keratinous
The days are slight, as thin as fingernails.
revival
Embers in me that I want to coax back to life.
sorted
The animals have one corner of the floor; the plants have the other. In his world, at this time, they can't mingle.
tonedeaf
"Are you with someone?" he asks, his eyes scanning the room, fishing for additional prospects. "Yes," I say. "If it doesn't work out," he immediately says, in a business-like tone, "could I be the first one to know? Let me know, right after." Yep. That's exactly what I'm going to do. The first thing I'll think of in the aftermath of a break-up is you. And I do in fact get his business card, with two phone numbers. His customer service skills are impeccable.
205
abrade
This is the kind of cold that scrubs away at your cheeks like steel wool.
arctic
I don't know how they do it - plunge into the cold water without their hearts stopping.
cellar
The space beneath my desk is very cold. I could chill wine in there, where the heat hasn't made its way.
earthy
Deft fingers on the mandolin and a rough and honest voice. Magnificent.
satiny
A sky like gray silk.
sisal
They're a married couple with no apparent chemistry. No shared looks, no laughter in their eyes, just a tiredness in the way they move and talk to each other. As if they'd always rather be in different rooms. There's no sense of what's holding them together except for social acceptableness.
versifying
Hours of poetry, some earnestly awful and some of it beautiful. It's been a while since I had the pleasure of listening to poetry read out loud. Even the bad poetry sounds better read out loud.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Five Margaret Drabble Short Stories
Collection: A Day in the Life of a Smiling Woman
Author: Margaret Drabble
Margaret Drabble's writing is delicate brushwork. Fine details, nuances of feeling and thought, and in her best stories you hold your breath as the bigger picture emerges from all those little strokes. She writes with a real sympathy for people and how they make meaning of their lives in the face of so much that feels futile or ridiculous to them.
In her weaker work, there's a messiness to the characters and the story structure that feels lazy, like she applied her brush with indifference instead of the focus and care seen in her better writing.
These five stories stood out for me:
Crossing the Alps
A man and woman go off on an adulterous getaway. He's in a failing marriage. She's raising a disabled child on her own (after her husband walked out on her and the kid). They plan their little vacation to the Alps with a feeling of excitement, nervousness, and disbelief in themselves (will their relationship really go anywhere?) They want to do the kinds of things that people in a whirlwind romance are supposed to do, but each of them is practical. They know that what they're doing is in part just play-acting.
During the trip, the man falls sick. He can no longer play the part of the strong man whisking the poor, overworked single mom off on the romantic getaway of her life. She winds up taking care of him, a role that makes her stronger, more self-assured; she's in her element, taking care of another and making the best of a hopeless situation.
With the mountains looming around them, they wind up connecting with each other through a sense of smallness and mutual sympathy. They both know their relationship won't last; they're together briefly, two small people in a vast world, and they find solidarity in that. Were they to stick around long enough in each other's lives, they might have to watch their relationship slowly fall apart; they might become ruined in each other's eyes. What they'll have instead is a relationship that never becomes real enough to be ruined; they'll have some memories to draw a little warmth from years later.
Author: Margaret Drabble
Margaret Drabble's writing is delicate brushwork. Fine details, nuances of feeling and thought, and in her best stories you hold your breath as the bigger picture emerges from all those little strokes. She writes with a real sympathy for people and how they make meaning of their lives in the face of so much that feels futile or ridiculous to them.
In her weaker work, there's a messiness to the characters and the story structure that feels lazy, like she applied her brush with indifference instead of the focus and care seen in her better writing.
These five stories stood out for me:
Crossing the Alps
A man and woman go off on an adulterous getaway. He's in a failing marriage. She's raising a disabled child on her own (after her husband walked out on her and the kid). They plan their little vacation to the Alps with a feeling of excitement, nervousness, and disbelief in themselves (will their relationship really go anywhere?) They want to do the kinds of things that people in a whirlwind romance are supposed to do, but each of them is practical. They know that what they're doing is in part just play-acting.
During the trip, the man falls sick. He can no longer play the part of the strong man whisking the poor, overworked single mom off on the romantic getaway of her life. She winds up taking care of him, a role that makes her stronger, more self-assured; she's in her element, taking care of another and making the best of a hopeless situation.
With the mountains looming around them, they wind up connecting with each other through a sense of smallness and mutual sympathy. They both know their relationship won't last; they're together briefly, two small people in a vast world, and they find solidarity in that. Were they to stick around long enough in each other's lives, they might have to watch their relationship slowly fall apart; they might become ruined in each other's eyes. What they'll have instead is a relationship that never becomes real enough to be ruined; they'll have some memories to draw a little warmth from years later.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Week in Seven Words #202 & #203
202
accord
Comfortable silence over pasta and fish.
concavity
Small fingers bending like ski slopes on the heavy keys of the piano.
conifer
The scent of evergreens on street corners.
demands
Having to look at it again through the eyes of a beginner, I see how much goes into piano-playing. Learning to identify the keys, learning to read the notes, developing the coordination in the hands. It's difficult. A love of music is a large part of what sees you through.
implore
The jingle bell sounds are the panhandlers rattling their cups.
limbed
Trees aren't dead in winter. They're expressive in ways they can't be when covered in leaves.
slip-ups
People behaving foolishly, young people who don't think things out well enough, are stuck with their indiscretions: photographs floating around the web, videos, comments that can't be deleted. Like having to walk around everywhere with several squares of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of their shoes.
accord
Comfortable silence over pasta and fish.
concavity
Small fingers bending like ski slopes on the heavy keys of the piano.
conifer
The scent of evergreens on street corners.
demands
Having to look at it again through the eyes of a beginner, I see how much goes into piano-playing. Learning to identify the keys, learning to read the notes, developing the coordination in the hands. It's difficult. A love of music is a large part of what sees you through.
implore
The jingle bell sounds are the panhandlers rattling their cups.
limbed
Trees aren't dead in winter. They're expressive in ways they can't be when covered in leaves.
slip-ups
People behaving foolishly, young people who don't think things out well enough, are stuck with their indiscretions: photographs floating around the web, videos, comments that can't be deleted. Like having to walk around everywhere with several squares of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of their shoes.
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