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.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Friday, October 21, 2016
Week in Seven Words #309
battleship
They're all in flames except for the destroyers. He hunts for mine, and I for his, across the war-torn grids.
exactitude
He's assigned an essay on the Battle of Gettysburg, and chooses to write it the length of the Gettysburg Address, 272 words. It reads naturally, without too many adjectives thrown in for padding.
insinuated
The cold rain has crawled into my socks.
nonconfrontational
We play to 100 points. As soon as we're both close, he lies on the floor, hands flailing, so that if I win, he can say that he let me.
prickles
The harpsichord music is fury and frayed nerves. Forked lightning kept in a crystal vial.
rote
For the sake of inefficiency, they invite us to an in-person orientation. We spend fifteen minutes signing in, finding our seats, and picking up a thin packet of information we could have received via email. Following a ten-minute PowerPoint presentation chock-full of information already contained in the packets, the Q&A session begins. Crickets chirp. We leave.
tenderness
Cuddling on the couch, because it can't already be time to say good night.
They're all in flames except for the destroyers. He hunts for mine, and I for his, across the war-torn grids.
exactitude
He's assigned an essay on the Battle of Gettysburg, and chooses to write it the length of the Gettysburg Address, 272 words. It reads naturally, without too many adjectives thrown in for padding.
insinuated
The cold rain has crawled into my socks.
nonconfrontational
We play to 100 points. As soon as we're both close, he lies on the floor, hands flailing, so that if I win, he can say that he let me.
prickles
The harpsichord music is fury and frayed nerves. Forked lightning kept in a crystal vial.
rote
For the sake of inefficiency, they invite us to an in-person orientation. We spend fifteen minutes signing in, finding our seats, and picking up a thin packet of information we could have received via email. Following a ten-minute PowerPoint presentation chock-full of information already contained in the packets, the Q&A session begins. Crickets chirp. We leave.
tenderness
Cuddling on the couch, because it can't already be time to say good night.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Postmodern Jukebox Delights
Postmodern Jukebox does covers of contemporary pop songs in older styles.
For instance, Rihanna's "Umbrella" (ella, ella...) in a Singin' in the Rain style with tap-dancing.
And Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" in soul music style (and so beautiful, how it builds).
Other gems I've found so far: Radiohead's "Creep", Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance", and Beyonce's "Halo".
For instance, Rihanna's "Umbrella" (ella, ella...) in a Singin' in the Rain style with tap-dancing.
And Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" in soul music style (and so beautiful, how it builds).
Other gems I've found so far: Radiohead's "Creep", Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance", and Beyonce's "Halo".
Friday, October 14, 2016
Week in Seven Words #308
besieger
Before he finally gets locked out of his account, he tries one password after another, probing at his unresponsive memory. Each time, he's convinced that he's only off by one character.
binding
Through cracks in the window, the cold seeps in and curls around my hands and ankles.
braceleted
Around my wrists, they've placed interlocking plastic chains - some in pastels, others in night-glowing neon.
pellets
Cloudy bins of candies in toxic colors line the cold, bright aisles.
schnoz
His nose has puffed up like a sponge toy that expands in water.
shades
Dark-haired and silver-haired, they play a violin duet in the dim light.
unassured
"Don't worry, don't worry," he pleads. He doesn't know what else to do. He only wishes she'd relax, even as his frantic voice communicates the uselessness of such a wish.
Before he finally gets locked out of his account, he tries one password after another, probing at his unresponsive memory. Each time, he's convinced that he's only off by one character.
binding
Through cracks in the window, the cold seeps in and curls around my hands and ankles.
braceleted
Around my wrists, they've placed interlocking plastic chains - some in pastels, others in night-glowing neon.
pellets
Cloudy bins of candies in toxic colors line the cold, bright aisles.
schnoz
His nose has puffed up like a sponge toy that expands in water.
shades
Dark-haired and silver-haired, they play a violin duet in the dim light.
unassured
"Don't worry, don't worry," he pleads. He doesn't know what else to do. He only wishes she'd relax, even as his frantic voice communicates the uselessness of such a wish.
Friday, October 7, 2016
Week in Seven Words #307
deportment
As children they're learning the art of wearing different masks: the politely engaged one with their teachers, the unruffled, easygoing, coolly knowing one for their classmates.
photoshopped
He appears with a handlebar mustache on a Time Magazine cover. "Impressed?" he asks.
proportional
He compares my defense skills to a professional player's, in a game of basketball involving a small plastic hoop lodged above a closet door.
raspy
At the end of the week, a cold grips my throat and wrestles me down.
sweepings
The words don't hurt so much as stick to me like random rubbish, a scrap of paper I've stepped on when it's raining out.
sweetly
She likes to make each occasion more special with a handmade card. The thought and care she puts into her work creates closeness.
triggering
One of those awkward conversations where you feel as if you're surrounded by tripwires. Even a safe topic, taken slightly off course, is liable to lead to an explosion.
As children they're learning the art of wearing different masks: the politely engaged one with their teachers, the unruffled, easygoing, coolly knowing one for their classmates.
photoshopped
He appears with a handlebar mustache on a Time Magazine cover. "Impressed?" he asks.
proportional
He compares my defense skills to a professional player's, in a game of basketball involving a small plastic hoop lodged above a closet door.
raspy
At the end of the week, a cold grips my throat and wrestles me down.
sweepings
The words don't hurt so much as stick to me like random rubbish, a scrap of paper I've stepped on when it's raining out.
sweetly
She likes to make each occasion more special with a handmade card. The thought and care she puts into her work creates closeness.
triggering
One of those awkward conversations where you feel as if you're surrounded by tripwires. Even a safe topic, taken slightly off course, is liable to lead to an explosion.
Friday, September 16, 2016
Labor Day Hike: Mostly Bronx
On Labor Day, I went on a roughly 20-mile hike that started in East Harlem and ended in the Bronx by the Whitestone Bridge. The hike almost didn't happen, because Hurricane Hermine menaced the city from afar for a while, but the weather turned out beautiful - sunny all day, no violent winds or flooding.
The hike was organized by Shorewalkers, a group I've walked with before, in and around NYC.
So here's the starting point, near the 6-train stop at 125th Street and Lexington Avenue.
We headed east and crossed the Triborough Bridge to Randall's Island, where part of our walk took us under the Hell Gate Bridge and Railroad Viaduct.
We were near some athletic fields, and the air off the water smelled clean and fresh, even though there's a waste treatment plant nearby (the winds were blowing favorably).
Randall's Island is located between Manhattan and Queens, with the Bronx to the north. Rikers Island, with its massive prison complex, is also in view, along with the smaller North and South Brother Islands.
North Brother Island was where officials twice confined Mary Mallon, nicknamed "Typhoid Mary." It's also where the steamboat, General Slocum, ultimately came to rest after catching fire, in a hideous maritime disaster that killed over 1,000 people.
As for that rail viaduct we walked under earlier, with the beautiful concrete arches? The original plan had been to use exposed steel for the bridge's piers (or supports), but there were concerns that mental asylum inmates on Randall's and Wards Islands would easily climb on those to escape. Reinforced concrete was the solution.
All of these darker bits of history we absorbed on a calm, sunny day with beautiful views of the East River.
The hike was organized by Shorewalkers, a group I've walked with before, in and around NYC.
So here's the starting point, near the 6-train stop at 125th Street and Lexington Avenue.
We headed east and crossed the Triborough Bridge to Randall's Island, where part of our walk took us under the Hell Gate Bridge and Railroad Viaduct.
We were near some athletic fields, and the air off the water smelled clean and fresh, even though there's a waste treatment plant nearby (the winds were blowing favorably).
Randall's Island is located between Manhattan and Queens, with the Bronx to the north. Rikers Island, with its massive prison complex, is also in view, along with the smaller North and South Brother Islands.
North Brother Island was where officials twice confined Mary Mallon, nicknamed "Typhoid Mary." It's also where the steamboat, General Slocum, ultimately came to rest after catching fire, in a hideous maritime disaster that killed over 1,000 people.
As for that rail viaduct we walked under earlier, with the beautiful concrete arches? The original plan had been to use exposed steel for the bridge's piers (or supports), but there were concerns that mental asylum inmates on Randall's and Wards Islands would easily climb on those to escape. Reinforced concrete was the solution.
All of these darker bits of history we absorbed on a calm, sunny day with beautiful views of the East River.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Week in Seven Words #306
conspicuous
A Mustang parked outside a condemned brick home. Its front left tire is poised on the edge of a scum puddle.
drearily
His conversation - mostly heavy sighs and talk of how everything is ending.
fastened
They stand on the edge of an empty fountain and embrace.
jive
She stages her skilled, frenetic dance in the narrow aisle between two bookshelves.
myopia
Their need for a scapegoat outweighs anything good she does.
plaster
People's image of themselves can act as their greatest obstacle. They didn't work alone in constructing that self-image. If they ever want to tear parts of it down, they'll need help, perseverance, and tolerance for pain.
squishy
Scooping gobs of warm, wet clothes from the washing machine.
A Mustang parked outside a condemned brick home. Its front left tire is poised on the edge of a scum puddle.
drearily
His conversation - mostly heavy sighs and talk of how everything is ending.
fastened
They stand on the edge of an empty fountain and embrace.
jive
She stages her skilled, frenetic dance in the narrow aisle between two bookshelves.
myopia
Their need for a scapegoat outweighs anything good she does.
plaster
People's image of themselves can act as their greatest obstacle. They didn't work alone in constructing that self-image. If they ever want to tear parts of it down, they'll need help, perseverance, and tolerance for pain.
squishy
Scooping gobs of warm, wet clothes from the washing machine.
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