What hundreds do

On Sunday night, Marissa hosted a celebration of her 100th publishing of her newsletter constellations (which, if you’ve found me from there, welcome! glad you’re here!) at Topos Too in Ridgewood. People came from Massachusetts and D.C. and Philly and all over the city, including my own little Sunset Park contingent.

If you’re not already reading Marissa’s work - here are some of my favorites from the 100 as good places to start:

Amongst all the things I get to do with Marissa - so much thinking, driving between Massachusetts and NY, running, eating candy, going to shows, cooking, gossiping, sharing the things and people we love with each other - having creative work in conversation with one another is one of the things I count myself luckiest for.

I started the night out reading an excerpt from Lauren Berlant and Kathleen Stewart’s collaborative book The Hundreds, driven by the constraint of writing in 100 (or multiples of 100) word parcels. I specifically read a piece titled “What Hundreds Do”:

“The freedom of loving is like this swerving ongoing transcranial fishing for our unshakeable relational singularity, which includes our tropes. What are we going to with our proximity baby!? Worlds and scenes and poem come from it, and a sense of what counts and builds out, the metrics. We, too, make tracks for potential sync.”

When creative work can connect one another bring people together - that’s the pinnacle. The other readers read pieces about what love means and can do, how romantic love and creative partnership can come together to make things all the richer, how to find and make sense of meaning. Marissa’s creative friendship as a centerpoint meant there were so many synergies across pieces (Claudia and I both referenced constellations #85), and the room was so warm the windows were frosted with condensation. It was so full!

I read two other poems that I wanted to share here - both meditations on the theme of 100. The first is an exercise in compiling ideas that lead from one to another, stringing them together to see what shape they take. The second pulls from an archive of text made from my structured daily journal entries where I’ve cataloged 15 good things that I did or that happened each day for the last 10 months or so.

100 transitions in thought

• Big conversations built on misunderstanding

• First conversations

• Crying in public

• All the things that sunglasses hide

• Blue umbrella in the distance and the garlic from my sandwich on the bench next to me

• Head adornments in the sun

• A deep snort from across the sidewalk

• I’m talking to god

• Promenading

• Building new place memories

• Passing each other at the Whitney

• Passing each other on the way to the Whitney

• Missing each other in my dreams, at the Whitney

• I am not succinct in voice notes

• Technology purposefully degrades our experiences

• What are you pointing me away from

• What does it take to get everything you want or some close facsimile?

• What is want?

• Hunger

• Noise

• Trains arriving at the same station at the same time

• Legs of a trip

• Fixations on a color in passing phases

• Aversion to a color that you never get over

• Teal

• The Housesitter T-shirt that Anna got me that I treasure but never wear

• Gifts that you come to find a purpose for

• Deepening grooves on a feeling

• The aura of dehydration

• Waking up drenched in sweat

• Emotional bartering

• Where the chicken is kept at the right temperature

• Desperation eating

• Lightheadedness

• The wind at the top of Sunset Park

• Not wasting the watermelon juice

• Americans surprising visitors from abroad

• Not being able to give subway directions

• Not being able to tell if the train is moving backward

• Getting far enough to perceive the perspective shift

• Pant proportions and how to get them just right

• Sock proportions and how to get them just right

• How your legs can carry you so far

• Everyone around you is having a good day

• Everyone takes pleasure in their little displays, their details gleaming in the sun

• Shifting temperatures

• The peak sun at the middle of the day

• The way light and shadows move

• Wind shuddering leaves

• One red tree in a field

• Textures meeting each other, like patent leather and a wool flannel

• Layers of sand

• How minds process different sensory inputs

• The closeness of the smell of the person next to you

• When you know all that’s left is to buckle down

• The return

• Knowing yourself

• Trusting yourself

• Realizing the aphorisms work

• Texting your friend a play-by-play

• Momentum 

• Flow

• Watching a stick float under a bridge

• Eating fried clams in an above ground submarine for tourists

• The swishing friction

• The bend in the wood where the floor creaks

• Perceiving your own lightness

• Knowing all that you carry

• Having the thing you need in your pocket

• The affection of an aloof dog 

• The things every kid learns to draw

• Sitting in a field and trying to paint

• Wondering what makes an artist

• Questions

• Preparing to hang out with someone new by rehearsing talking points 

• Do you ever do that?

• Acceptance of a teased fate

• Safety in being known

• French people seem to understand what changes and what stays the same

• All the bacteria I keep alive

• Cognitive dissonance about the dog’s cleanliness

• The dog finding the warm spot where I was sitting

• The dog finding the best seat to keep her eyes on me

• The dogs finding the way to best press their little bodies against mine

• Wondering if the dog thinks about what my body looks like as we sleep under the covers

• Teaching the dog I’m a pervert

• Figuring out my parental gender

• Names finding their way to you

• Dream that I forgot the dog’s name

• New fears

• New threats

• Veiled threats

• Veronica’s Veil

• Nameless women

• Artists who were never known

• Melting into a crowd

• Letting time pass over you

• Counting down the days

• Envisioning the future

• Not much new

100 victories

I walked home in a little bit of rain

felt the depth of my sadness

ate leftovers

Anna reminded me: one day at a time

I took my vitamins

and the dogs greeted me so sweetly

I looked in the mirror and said I love my body

I danced a lot 

danced and felt ecstatic being surrounded by others dancing

reminiscing about dance

My clothes didn’t wrinkle on the journey

I woke up to the quiet and light of morning

opened the kitchen window and let in cool air

Another rose bloomed out back

I’m trying not to wallow

went into the ocean

wore a warm oversized sweatshirt right out of the laundry

saw a sweet video of two dogs comforting one another

I found my friends easily in the dark

connected to the precious circles of life and 

Fran told me he feels a special connection with me

My scabs are coming off

Parking was really inexpensive

We uncovered the crack in the foundation

I didn’t get into the half marathon lottery and I wish I felt this at ease about all rejection: I would have risen to the occasion but I will spend my time really well otherwise

I watched the next episode of Vanderpump Rules but feel ready to let go 

I showed up authentically (I cried in a meeting)

I took myself to a movie

It didn’t rain on me on my walk home

Pearce took a photo of me that I love

sun on my face and salt on my skin

I woke up early

kept a promise

sunkissed and refilled with life

telling Emily the story about Marissa feeling inspired to talk about her love more after hearing Emily talk about Claire

Emily did all our dishes 

I had four kinds of cakes

I let myself feel wistful

Marissa and I arrive completely in sync to the art supply store

I felt myself noticing things outside: colors, light. I feel present. And open

to really just let myself enjoy my life with ease. No pressure to maximize 

I hardboiled eggs well done

I didn’t let my bad experience at Lowes beat me down for the whole day

I masturbated which felt not as sad as usual

I had perseverance and went back to Lowes

I was able to be present with my friends despite feeling disappointed

I enjoyed my tiramisu

I’ve never been able to fit it in

sharing my lychees with everyone

I read on the beach with my feet in the water.

I picked up dinner at the clam shack

and celebrated the victory of the human spirit through sports 

I went to Manhattan to hunt down books in Italian 

learned how I could be more kind and encouraging

I had dinner with my friend and I felt like myself

didn’t spend extra money while out

I knew how much to push

I ate a big lunch when I was anxious

I packed a sweater to the theater because I thought I could be cold and I was

paying attention to a baby bird in the backyard

I realize that my parent’s fears are their own fears and dont really have to do with me 

I let elation and grief sit together

I washed the toothpaste out of my sweatshirt

I am ready to embrace frisson

My lilies are slowly blooming

I spent the day alone but didn’t feel lonely

I stayed off instagram all vacation

I read some Annie Baker plays on vacation

I read on the train

I enjoyed my first Chantal Akerman film

I stole time 

figured out how to properly light the candlestick

stocked up on candy for the studio

And can locate the difficulty around my feelings

I made toast for breakfast

bought cotton underwear

And I thought about how to signal how to be cared for and how to care for myself

I paid my credit card bill

I finally admitted to myself that my coffee has been tasting bad.its the almond milk

I kept my heart open

I marveled

Shared chips and queso with a stranger at the movies when my date cancelled

I dropped off a package at the post office and told the postal worker it was the best one and she said to come back any time

The sun was so pink

I stayed cool

I felt myself give people room to grow 

I am leaving space for things to shift and change

Following instincts around language

experimenting with fresh dates and figs

I felt my anger more than sadness

finished love island

finished a book

finished a roll of film

finished my bandana for baby Theo

I made spaghetti and clams perfectly salted 

I feel realistic about my priorities

I know I’m going to be okay

I know that I can take my time

I found an escaped clam in the fridge and skipped it like a rock, returning it to the lagoon

with so much of the day ahead of me

Thank you to Steiner and Marissa for feedback and editing on these pieces, to Claudia and Marianela, and a Huge thanks to everyone who came out - I hope you’ll be at the next one.