Volume 1, Issue 35 | Suerza
A week of heady thoughts. News of possible futures and stories of the past, making the present more precious. Giving it a little bit more energy.
On my mind: histories and meet-cutes and vesting schedules and hundred-year homes and new beginnings and eras ending. Airbrushed type on record sleeves. A return on investment. The friendship of Theseus. Time collapsing. The longevity of anything.
Cuppa officially (softly and loudly) opened this past week, while Management (despairing and optimistic) began to wonder about another year, and an infinity after.
Always I am grateful for this experiment in community. But this week I’m grateful for this space, in this particular building, at the end of 15th street. A space we’re so lucky to be in, that holds overlapping stories, all with different timescales. A place where we’ve met, shared stories, stolen kisses, planned crimes, changed jobs, learned from each other, and celebrated milestones. A place where we’ve laughed and cried and danced and felt so alive. A place that’s been a home.
—Ivan
Happenings
This week:
Yoga with Dan, Sunday, February 9
This time I’m writing this section of Paperwork after Yoga With Dan took place.
This one hour, all-levels “flow” class synced engaging physical poses with intentional breathwork to build flexibility and coordination while attuning people to their inner selves. Students expected a moderate, low impact workout with light breathing exercises, and from what I can tell their expectations were met.
You’re far too late to join. But this happens monthly, the day after PowerPoint Parties. The next one is March 9.
Weekly Wednesday Worknight, Wednesday, February 12
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, or free for Company and Moonlight members.
Next Weeks
Mary Ann’s Book Club: We Hunt the Flame, Monday, February 17
A book club switching between fiction and non-fiction. This month, We Hunt the Flame, by Hafsah Faizal. A romantasy, enemies-to-lovers kind of book.
Snacks and drinks will be provided to fuel our conversation.
$0–$10
You might hate and then love this book →
Glint: Crushing, Tuesday, February 18
True, personal stories, told live, without notes. Pretty much exactly like The Moth except without the competition, on Tuesdays instead of Fridays, and everyone knows each other (or is about to). Our next theme is “Crushing“, and we’ve got a few storyteller slots left.
Do you have a story about an unbearable weight? Mad skills? An infatuation? A smashing success? Whatever your interpretation, we want to hear it.
$10, or free for tellers and members.
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Also coming up: Cuppa Grand Opening (February 22), In the Making (Feb 25).
Nostalgia
Do you remember the final day of Sundance at Home? The long walk we took, past Mike’s house? How the door kept opening? How we lingered long after the end of that controversial film about cabbage smugglers?
The quiet Monday, after that relentless week? The lunch about money? The warm day with the cold walk? How it was just us two, on swings?
Or the lunch where we puzzled over approaches to kiwis? Peeled, unpeeled, or scooped? The surprise of Allyson? The arrival of Lexi?
How that week, and every week after, Livvy was a cute little bug living under a leaf?
And how we finally remembered it was trash day?
The lunch where we talked about attachment styles, and haircuts, and boybands?
The Worknight meeting of Austin from California, how he and Marcia talked about politics until Livvy had to quiet them down? How Marcia then told us the story of meeting John, all those years ago, at this very intersection? The robbery, the cousin, the flight, the space? The word of six months, and maybe a year?
Alex asking, of Norton’s goal, “Is that a ray-tracing thing or a soul searching thing?” That we again had those moments of admiring screens?
Do you remember how that morning we talked about the stress, and the sadness, and I tried to trace the sources, and then Michelle pointed out that Bon Iver was playing in the background so maybe it could be that as well?
How we imagined resorting to art and theater to solve the specter of our possible displacement? A play to request to stay?
The nine-person lunch? The afternoon walk where we all ended up touring apartments? The further room rearrangement and the Lizzie hug resupply?
Do you remember Juan’s Procreate meetup? Meeting new people, including two thirds of the Denver Irish Society?
That sweet moment, in the middle, of the MD Eight airdrop? The flash of surprise and then joy on Norton’s face? How he even stood up?
Afterward, as it thinned, how we talked to Rebeca, who was meaning to leave, but instead stayed for a while? How she showed Norton how to salsa, while she debated if she would be able to join?
Surely you remember, Beth, that bright Friday morning in early February, when you tried to open Cuppa for the first time but the door was more locked than it should have been? The panic of it? How somehow I was awake, and thought my chances of having the right keys were decent, and rushed over? How you got set up, and walked your sign down the stairs, while Brien walked up, and then in, with that glimmering planter? Your very first customer on your very first day? You remember, you must, how many people people showed up for you, who loved you, who supported you? All those people you knew who the rest of us didn’t—your coworkers, your friends, your loved ones? The strangers off the street? The din, the buzz, the happy chaos of your dream taking form?
Do you remember the conversation we had, in the basement, about the file cabinets and the money? How you showed me your archives, found your student project, and we lamented the property taxes? How we dreamed of a way to keep this place?
The lunch crew walk where I shared my excitement and hopes, and Dan tried to rush us? How we made our way to Avanti and only once there learned it was closed? ¿Recuerdas cómo estabamos tristes porque queríamos arepas? How we found our way to Recess instead, and brainstormed ways to make lots of money quickly, and could only think of crime and sex work?
How the lemonade was ‘Tropica’?
Do you remember how quiet the afternoon was compared? How the day ended with the noise of the punch clock being installed?
That first Saturday? Meeting Beth’s mom and sibling and friend? Her entrepreneur friends swapping notes? Overhearing her observe that, even if nothing comes of it, she did it: she fully pursued her dream? How especially then, in that moment, in that week, it felt so relatable?
Do you remember the PowerPoint Party? All that setup help while we prepared for our future absence? How we scrambled, but got things together, while the room filled?
How Ian brought so much bread and so many friends?
How Nicole accidentally flipped through all of her slides in one second and everyone cheered as if she finished? How Micah positively thought his way into ending his presentation on time? Or the presentations on pineapples, beautiful colors of paint drying, and boys and passwords and even-tempered scales and obscure sorrows and groups and 🔫s?
How Management made up an event at intermission, the exodus to Postino, all those conversations after? How, for that night, we were able to forget about the future?
Bureaucratic Minutiae
Jim mounted our punch clock! It’s now mounted. So much nicer. Thank you, Jim!
Today’s intro, in other words, quoting Hal & Harper: “I’m so happy and I’m so sad and I love you.”
In last week’s issue I wrote about a blog post by Emmanuel Quartey that I quite like. After writing that intro, I finally took the time to send him an email thanking him for writing it. He wrote back, appreciative of the appreciation, and sent some pictures of the house in progress. It made my day, and for a half minute I thought maybe I’d put together a PowerPoint presentation about it. Instead of that, I’ll just recommend: write some fan mail. Love things and tell the people who made them that you do.
At Worknight: Ivan uploaded images from issue 25 and started drafting an ideal week, Marcia restarted a knitting project, Austin made a plan, Norton started figuring out inner boundary finding, Will wrote a script to cut out foregrounds, Alex defined rules for 25 cards and created iconography for new tags and seasons, and Livvy rewrote her Moonlight goal.
At PowerPoint Party No. 23: Nicole presented about beetles (while, by the way, wearing earrings made of beetles (or parts of beetles)), Micah talked us through internal narratives, Juan showed us the result of a drawing habit, Simon taught us that some paint doesn’t dry—it just become less wet, Dan shared his thorough research as to whether NSYNC or Backstreet Boys are better, Zack demonstrated why all our passwords are terrible, Matt explained why all pianos are out of tune, Ashley read to us from a sacred text, José extolled the power of groups, and Jacob 🎁💔😬.
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.
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.
😘
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This issue of Paperwork was made possible by the support of our members, Halie, Drew, Justin, Mason, Lexi, José, Mary Ann B., Trevr, Aubrey, Allyson, Madison, Melissa, Elijah, Dan, Michelle, Jim, Jacob, Mark, Sabrina, Beth, Dani, Chris, Brynn, Will, Marcia, Rebeca, Sarah, and our newest members, Mary Ann T. and Alex.
