This past Friday, at lunch, at one end of the double-long table, Jessica S. discovered a clam in her hot pot. Michelle deemed this occasion ‘auspicious,’ and then realized that she was uncertain what the term meant. Was it something like ominous, but in a good way? The group was also unsure, and debated whether it had positive, neutral, or negative connotations. It was then decided that instead of looking it up on their phones they would wonder for a while and poll those of us nearby.

When I was asked, I feigned uncertainty, and said that I thought it mostly meant ‘significant’! That it was perhaps suggestive of positive significance, like a good omen, but that I didn’t know for sure.

Wanting to avoid the hallucinations of overconfident machines, the group at last turned to Miriam Webster and confirmed for themselves that it is indeed positive. And that was that. They thought nothing more of it. To them, at best, it was new knowledge—perhaps a footnote to be included in an overlong newsletter.

But I had known the meaning, and this moment meant more to me than anyone. But in this particular situation I had two reasons for pretending at uncertainty.

The first is that I generally find intellectual confidence distasteful, and I harbor a deep distrust of any who are unwilling to admit that they could be misremembering, or that their sources could be flawed. Those who cannot say “I think”, “I do not know”, or “I cannot be sure” are people that I think I would rather not know (though I cannot be sure).

The second reason for my pretense, and the reason this moment meant more to me, is that, as many of you know, I have a troubled religious past. You may have heard me at some point make mention of a ‘crisis of faith’, and some of you may have even heard some version of what that was about. The truth is that I have had an almost lifelong struggle with the weight of my family’s ancestral religious obligations, and I while I have done my best over the years to distance myself from that weight I still don’t talk about it very much. But this is a place of curiosity and disclosure, and I like to be known, so I will tell you:

I used to be an augur. My parents are still augurs, as were their parents before them, and so on, all the way before the founding of Rome, a hundred generations back.

Augurs have largely been forgotten in our era, and so perhaps you are unaware that they were once were a highly respected religious class. Augurs practiced, and continue to practice, augury, the observation and interpretation of signs in nature. Every major decision in the ancient Roman world, whether to go to war, whether to engage in trade, even the founding of Rome itself, was built on the insights of the augurs.

And their work, which is really to discern the will of the gods, is done by taking auspices. While it has shifted through a few different forms throughout the ages, taking auspices has mostly centered around the observations of birds: their numbers, their type, their direction of flight. To a trained augur, these indicators can be used to interpret avian phenomena as auspicious (a good sign) or inauspicious (a bad sign).*

It can be a terrible thing to know the will of the gods, but, though I no longer practice augury, I have made peace with the difficulties of my once troubled mind. And so every now and again I will see a flock, a gaggle, a murmuration, and I will know what it portends, and no longer find that knowledge to be a burden or an obligation.

A few years ago, in the winter of twenty-three, every day at dusk, a large murder of crows—thousands of them—would fly into and around downtown Denver, where Livvy and I live at the top of a modest high-rise. The birds would swoop right past our windows, and play and dance, and sing and laugh, and spend the evening alighting on nearby rooftops, talking to each other about their days as they snuggled together for warmth.

Shortly before that time I would have been unable to look upon those birds with anything but disdain and resentment, reminders of a lifetime of toil and heartbreak. But something was different in me that winter. When I would notice the first spots of darkness flit past in the sky I would run to the windows. I would text our neighbors to tell them the birds were out. I would stand, and watch, and sometimes tear up, until it got too dark to distinguish.

For in their movements I saw the future. In their movements I saw three friends signing a lease. I saw more friends join, and even yet more, alighting upon a strange corner in the city. I saw so many days and nights filled with wonder and happiness. I saw celebration and consolation and beginning. I saw dancing and companionship.

In their movements I saw us, around a double-long table, wondering what a word could mean.

—Ivan

Happenings

This week:

Creative Code Denver Meetup No. 13, Monday, April 20

(Again, sending this out after this happened but oh well!)

Creative Code Denver is back after a long hiatus, with Gus as its new host. The Creative Code meetup is how we first met Gus, years ago, so there’s some nice poetry to it. (It’s also where we met Alex, Trevr, Jacob, Mason, and Will, so historically a really important event.)

There’ll be some light refreshments, a chance for 10-minute creative coding demos, and an hour of social coworking. Bring stuff to share or work on.

Free

Honor the code →

Weekly Wednesday Worknight, Wednesday, April 22

The Company is about combining creative work with good friendships. Make an appointment with your side project this (or any) Wednesday at a Worknight, where we oscillate between enforced, focused, quiet time and optional chatty social time.

$5, free for Company and Moonlight members

Work together →

In the Making, Thursday, April 23

A show and tell for original, amateur, creative works in progress. Each presenter has 10 minutes to spend however they choose (any mix of presenting, Q&A, workshopping, getting feedback).

We’ve got four slots left for presenters, so sign up using Whiteboard or reply if you’re interested!

$10, or free for members and presenters

Make an appearance →

Prom, Saturday, April 25

Prom was so good last year that we’re hosting another! Hosted by Lizzie and Lauren T., this year’s theme is Starry Night. As with our other school formals, corsages, boutonnieres, and cute promposals are encouraged.

$20, $10 for members

Would you like to go to prom with us? →

Future Weeks:

Mary Ann’s Book Club: Invisible Women, Monday, April 27

Dense, heavy, and important, this book explores data bias and how it leads to and perpetuates gender inequality. So far, it’s a bummer of a read, but will definitely be a good conversation.

Free

Check your bias (out from the library) →

PowerPoint Party No. 38, Saturday, May 2

Twelve people giving 7-minute presentations about whatever they’re currently into. At past parties, people have presented about moon trees, film, Cottleston Pie, Lise Meitner, and Bad Bunny. It’s a wide mix.

It’s a nerdy and sincere crowd that cares a lot, and we’ve met some of our favorite people at these.

Want to present? We’ve got a waiting list (and your chances are terrible!). Want to just show up and meet interesting people and learn about what’s fascinating them lately? That’s great too. Bring a friend, or come alone and make a friend.

$10, free for members and presenters

Make a point of coming →

—

Also coming up: The Original Fiction Show (May 3) Creative Writing Workshop: Wonder (May 4), Glint: Weather (May 12), Anniversary Party (May 15)

Nostalgia

Do you remember Christof’s visit on his new weekend? Our Discord chat? How at recess Jessica S. wondered if a flower was a weed? That we asked John, and he explained it was a poppy? How the traditional car for holding court was occupied by a child so we found another, and Livvy shared what she was carrying?

The formalization of Film Club? The movie night at Mary Ann’s? How we all thought the guy with the suit should have done it? How Norton thought that there was altogether too much talking?

Or the lunch with Skip the Small Talk questions? How we talked about peak moments, and so many of them were of recent times together? Our recess walk to Little Owl, how we smelled the mini lilacs?

Do you remember the Glint about boundaries? How there were so many heavy and well-written stories, with so many new tellers? How Earl changed his flight to make it in time but missed it all because of weather? Do you remember how long we lingered? How the guy who lived downstairs was so cool about it?

Or the Worknight with the scattered stars on the board? That the Little Man line was big, and the outing switched to a Van Leeuwen trip? Our backwards star? The stretch?

The request for a recess quest that we deemed a REIquest? That we wandered the store and lost Ryan and found him again?

How it snowed, so thoroughly, on that big Friday? How it felt like Christmas at The Company? That it was so alive and chaotic, and rather difficult to focus? That we all cheered for Chris when he arrived? And we clapped and cheered for Jessica S.? How Dan tried his best to get us all to take a posed group picture but we couldn’t because some of us were in meetings? How Beth, Dan, Allyson, Adam, Lizzie, Lauren T., Michelle, Chris, Ellen, Ryan, Jessica S. Alex, Mark, Marissa, Livvy, Norton and me were all in at some point? That lunch was massive? That we cheered for Mark when he got back, and cheered for Beth when she left? How some of you debated the meaning of auspicious? The appreciation of Alex’s signs? How Alex got a game of hearts together, and taught it to three players and a handful of onlookers? How Dan tapped in for Allyson and kept his promise not to lose?

And do you remember the Prinsen baby shower? The Cuppa special, just for them? How we ate food, and wrote letters, and met loved ones? That we looked for socks, and took a quiz, and decorated bibs and onesies? How Earl took a detour from the Taco Bell Century to say hello? That you hollered at each other at Little Man?

Bureaucratic Minutiae

• We have a new, more powerful microwave. The staggering of lunchtime should be much less staggered moving forward. We are retaining the old, less powerful microwave for additional time saving.
• At Worknight: Ivan set up Descript and planned radio work; Mary Ann readied Ridwell recycling rapidly!; Jaime edited 2 articles and read 10 pages; Norton completed his kitchen; Livvy determined a project’s status and started a script to upload Dropbox photos to Framer; Madeleine uploaded haunted house convention audio to Dropbox; Alex read 15 pages and then read 15 more pages; and Case started an MBA. Recap by Livvy
• At Glint: Boundary: Ivan revealed his impetus for going outside and eventually on to Colorado, Lauren T. explained how she plans to rewrite her history, Anjali told us a secret she still hasn’t disclosed to her mom, Megan shared how jarring it can be to become visible in some ways and invisible in others, Christof reflected on the weight of having to enforce a boundary, Derek C. recounted an adventure that woke him up, Madeleine explored conflicting reports of reality, Fer reminisced on how a confrontation impacted a journey through grief, Omar brought us to Aotearoa to say goodbye to his father, Ryan taught us how to not get scammed into being a fall-guy, and Morgan painted a picture of failed museum etiquette. Recap by Morgan
• * Recent generations of my family have been amused to see birdwatching arise as a hobby. At every major family reunion, the older generations bring it up again. “Ah, how quaint, how that they pursue their lists!” “See them observing birds! See them blind to the meaning of it all!”
• Finally, a reminder that The Company is a member-supported gathering place, and if you know any of us, you’re welcome to pop in any time for free (outside of events). If you know that one of us is here and you’d like to come by, reach out and we can let you in.

Photos

—

This issue of Paperwork was written by Ivan with additional reporting from Jessica S., and was shot by Ivan, Madeleine, and Allyson. Photo selection and editing by Ivan, Jessica S., and Alex. Editorial support was provided by Livvy. This issue, and The Company itself, was made possible by the support of our members, Halie, Drew J., Justin, Mason, José, Mary Ann, Trevr, Allyson, Lizzie, Elijah, Michelle, Jim, Jacob, Mark, Sabrina, Beth, Dani, Chris, Will, Marcia, Rebeca, Sarah, Alex, Jessica P., Jessica S., Ben, Sam Ad., Christof, Ryan, Lauren T., Madeleine, Simon, Adam B., Gus, Lauren S., Earl, Maddie, and Bennett.

Do you know anyone in the Denver area who might be looking for creative community? Feel free to forward this email along to them. Everyone loves Paperwork.

😘