The Smell Of Thursday Afternoons

Summary

The content is a poetic reflection on the ambiance and emotions of Thursday afternoons, capturing the essence of the day through evocative imagery and sensory experiences.

Abstract

The article, "The Smell of Thursday Afternoons," paints a vivid picture of the often overlooked mid-week day. It describes the sensory landscape of Thursdays, from the visual cues of wet train tracks and yellow dandelions to the tactile sensations of soggy cardboard and discarded shoes. The author evokes the smells and sounds of the day, including the faint aroma of spices and the synchronized clicking of acrylic fingernails. The narrative weaves through various scenes, from a train ride to an office setting, highlighting the mundane yet distinct moments that characterize Thursdays. The piece suggests that Thursdays are a transition, a day suspended between the urgency of the week's start and the anticipation of the weekend, with October specifically noted for its quality of suspended animation. The author concludes by inviting readers to stay tuned for more installments of this October-themed poem and provides links to other works and ways to support their writing.

Opinions

The author perceives Thursday as a day in limbo, lacking a distinct identity compared to other days of the week.
October is singled out as embodying the essence of Thursday's transitional nature, perhaps due to its position between seasons.
The sensory experiences described, such as the smell of rain on train tracks or the taste of cold coffee, are presented as unique to Thursdays, giving the day a tangible character.
The poem implies a personal connection to the day, with the author reflecting on their own experiences and surroundings.
There is an appreciation for the small, often unnoticed details of daily life that come to the forefront on a Thursday.
The mention of other works and the invitation to subscribe suggest the author values community and engagement with their audience.
The use of photographs enhances the written descriptions, offering a visual complement to the poetic narrative.

on track three

wet train tracks, slick from the morning’s rain brick, a little mud from the dirt that accumulated over every flat surface in the city this past week yellow, from the shaggy dandelions in the sidewalk cracks and the yellow line stale wind and sleepiness as the train rolls in.

soggy cardboard, disintegrating paper coffee cup from lunch, faint spices still drifting from what, cold now, is left in the tupperware. baby powder, blisters (shoes discarded) paper, ink, whiteboard cleaner.

wrinkles (the blue collared shirt was crisp at nine), the last three munchkins from the box Tina brought in, new carpet and fluorescent lights. the door slams.

dollar coins from the station vending machine diet pepsi cola track three acrylic fingernails, synchronized clicking, millennial women scrolling through recipe blogs. general fatigue and smoke.

deadlines wine Costco rotisserie chicken and British murder mysteries, rainbow throw blanket (home and the sound of wrapping paper ripping), purring and cat fur. the chicken bones rattle in the container they’re sold in. sleepiness and fading lipstick and darkness at 6p.m. in October.

1 broken earbud, dusty stucco ceiling sheets weren’t washed last week, raw cookie dough, smooth jazz, blue light, cold water, and a singular weed growing in the pot with the aloe.

Notes

An impression of Thursday, from varying locations. Depending on the week and the time of year I might spend Thursdays on the train, in the office, or in a classroom, but wherever I am a Thursday is fundamentally the same.

It’s a very poorly defined day, best understood in terms of Wednesday and Friday — it’s a weekday in suspended animation, a day spent in waiting mode.

Note that I mention October, a month of waiting mode in my opinion. This is the first installment of three part poem themed around October. Please stay tuned if you are interested in reading more!

Thanks for reading!

If you’re interested in reading more of my poetry, check out my pieces nanotalk and you have a soul.

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