What hundreds do
celebrating Marissa's 100th publishing of constellations
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.