Homage to Catatonia

A Loving Catalog of Orphaned Ideas.

Category: Descriptions & Images

Sometimes

Sometimes an event looms so large that it seems unnatural when it begins to recede into the past.

*     *     *

Sometimes he felt like he was on the verge of something huge and wonderful, as if at any moment a new and amazing chapter in his life would begin. Day after day, for weeks at a time, he would carry this lurking certainty within him, feeding on its promise, until, finally, one day the feeling would fade and his life would go on in much the same way it always had.

*     *     *

Sometimes he fantasized about becoming an expatriate and was surprised to find that the first order of business in these fantasies was deciding what kind of hat he would wear.

*     *     *

Sometimes he felt imbued with the feeling that he had something important to say, so he would take up his pen and begin writing only to find, as he read the words back, that he had said nothing at all.

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Isolated Moments (2)

Over the phone she said, “I’ve got a gray hair because of you. I’m going to pluck it but I want you to see it first.” She came over and he followed her into the bathroom where she grasped a small gray air growing near her temple—shorter than the nail of her pinky finger—with a pair of needlenose tweezers. “That’s what these six months have done to me,” she said, then pulled it out with a quick tug. He had imagined a long, wavy, wiry, gray hair woven in with her bangs. He didn’t even understand how she had noticed this miniscule hair.

* * *

Her hair was newly cut so that it hung tightly against her chin and her eyes were newly blue (how had he never noticed?) and she was generous with her picolo laugh as she told him about the network of fault lines below the city that would one day send them all crashing into the sea.

* * *

The blind man ate his lemon meringue pie with deliberate intimacy, savoring each bite with both his mouth and his fingers.

Some Physical Descriptions of Women

Her skin was the color and consistency of finely ground cocoa powder.

*     *     *

Her narrowed eyes glowed cool from behind ash blonde bangs like the blue cores of glaciers.

*     *     *

Her face was like a Picasso, all huge eyes and disconcerting angles that somehow coalesced into beauty once you learned how to look at her.

*     *     *

She was freckle-faced but her freckles were so fair, like the rest of her face, that you only noticed them if you were standing a couple feet away.

*     *     *

It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her. She was wearing a black dress that hung from her slender, bare shoulders by two thin straps. Her hair, which she had always kept in a simple ponytail, was loose: inky black and cupping her face like parentheses.

Descriptions & Dialogue

“I understand you don’t like me very much.”
“Good, I’m glad you understand.”
*     *     *
The entire time he was in my living room I felt like I was watching a wild animal pacing its cage.
*     *     *
He was the kind of person who was funnier from a distance.
*     *     *
A collection of records regarding my recollections of my record collection.
*     *     *
What pleased her most about the apartment was the fact that it was above a small restaurant and she could hear the clinking of dishes whenever she liked.
*     *     *
Stale fingernail clippings on a wooden table. (A pyre of stale fingernail clippings?)
*     *     *
I remember love. (opening line? ending line?)

Descriptions, Images, Phrases (2)

She stayed up late hours talking, fueled by the power of ideas.

*     *     *

When she was young she had been lauded by teachers and parents as a prodigy, a genius in the making. She found the burden of all those attached hopes so overwhelming that she spent the rest of her life trying to prove them wrong. Her life so far had been an attempt to erase herself.

*     *     *

She always traveled with a book. Actually, two books. Two dramatically different books since, during long journeys, she frequently found that her shifting moods did not allow her to sustain interest in any one book or type of book.

Descriptions, Images, Phrases (1)

She wore her red hair pulled back in a bountiful ponytail.

He did not carry his regrets well.

An aquarium state of mind.

The weather of her eyes.