Three Things: The Passing Glance Edition
I believe it’s about time for another imaginary word from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows:
xeno
n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers–a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence–moments that are fleeting and random but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.
I think everyone has experienced at least one moment of xeno at some point in their lives: the little wave of thanks a pedestrian gives when a car has stopped to let them cross the street, that fleeting moment of shared eye-rolling when the bellowing subway hawker goes off the rails, the jolt of electricity when one meet the eyes of an attractive stranger in a crowd. Let’s write about it, yes?
Gustave Caillebotte, Le Pont de l’Europe, 1876. Oil on canvas. Musée du Petit Palais, Geneva.
Edgar Bundy, The Passing Glance, 1892. Oil on canvas.
Robert Doisneau, Sunday Morning in Arcueil, 1945. Photograph.
I have been overhearing some of the strangest conversations during the past few days, thanks to working from coffee shops while I wait for the internet to be hooked up at the new apartment. Not that I’m complaining: I find people watching (and listening) highly enjoyable. Inadvertent eavesdropping often yields some of the best fodder for stories (but judging by how long it is taking me to write these few sentences, does not always make for the most productive use of my time).
This week we have three settings perfect for accidental eavesdropping: a café, a barbershop, and a subway platform. My advice? Take those earbuds out every once in a while. You never know what you might hear.
Édouard Manet, A Café, Place du Theatre Francais, 1877-78. Pastel on canvas. Burrell Collection, Glasgow, Scotland.
Jacob Lawrence, The Barber Shop, 1946. Gouache on paper.
Robert Doisneau, Le Muguet du Métro, 1954. Photograph.
P.S. We’re now accepting submissions for the next Open Mic! Submit your stuff today and tomorrow, and it’ll go live for workshopping on Wednesday.
Three Things: Pancake Party Edition
We had such a party, with our pancakes.
I heard someone say this a few years ago, and I immediately filed it away under “Lines to Steal.” At the time, I could barely stifle my laugh of delight (made all the more dangerous—and therefore more difficult—because it was one of those situations where laughter was highly inappropriate). Two years later, it still delights me, and I remain bound and determined to use it somewhere, someday. It’s a fairly simple sentence, but it invites all manner of celebratory images to flash through my brain—and then (ha!) I have to explain why a pancake is there, too.
The image in my head depends upon the day, really. Sometimes I’m picturing a riotous party with loads of balloons; other times, like today, it’s a humbler, subtler affair. I’ve got three things here for you; my caption for each is, you guessed it: “We had such a party, with our pancakes.”
Henri Toulouse-Lautrec. A La Mie (Last Crumbs), 1891. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Boston, MA.
Elisabeth Dunker, Untitled, February 17, 2010. www.finelittleday.com
Robert Doisneau, Les mains de Picasso (Picasso’s hands), c. 1952. Taken in France.
(Is anyone else as hungry as I am right now?)