what if it's finished?
Ninety Nine Nouns I mean—this collection of woven words.
Except how can it be finished?
There are only 94 in the box and one on the loom.
That isn’t enough.
Is it?
Of course I’m not counting the blank ones I wove last April1 but if I did I’d have 98 which is so crazy close that it seems super silly to stop when all it would take is one more.
Yeeessssss—and that works if I’m into a kind of desperate creative accounting, or clinging madly to the idea of achieving an alliterative (yet arbitrary) goal set three years ago—
—when right now I’m far more interested in how it feels, this close to an implied end, to decide I’m done.
Well, how does it feel?
Just this moment: glossy; green; restful; enticing; a bit itchy.
Also: like an enormous risk.
Risk! What an excellent word. All letters I like too! And if I weave it, and also count the blank tapestries, I wouldn’t be quitting early. After all I said 99 so it really is better to weave that number and then I wouldn’t have to see myself as a person who didn’t achieve her goals—especially when she’s sooooo close. And really how ridiculous it is to make a big deal here in public about not going for it when I could just weave a few more and really be done instead of forcing myself to learn a thing I don’t want need to learn.
Well! That is another way to look at it. A panicky argument from a slightly terrified part of me—a part who wouldn’t appear at all if I just kept going until the implied end—a part who would be perfectly content if I wove the word tune instead of actually playing one.
She’s the part who would feel super satisfied if I went on to weave soil and song and tail and tale and nail and hail and hill and dale and all the beloved others on my long, long list because they are wondrous words and more is always better than not quite enough.
And while I’m at it how about adding some of the four letter words many people think of when I say four letter word because f**k and her dear and useful cousin s**t have been much requested and if nothing else I’d have achieved an even stretchier stretch goal since weaving an asterisk at 8 ends per inch would be a bit of a nightmare and therefore an even more impressive accomplishment than merely reaching ninety nine.
Well it might at that—unless my actual goal is to transcend the idea of goals.
Unless what truly interests me is the nourishing nettle-strewn path and a good old non-accomplishment-oriented think.
Unless I’m curious about how it would be to release turf from the loom and slip it into the t section of the shoe box to join time and twig and toad and tree and thaw, then put that loom away.
Unless in choosing to stop here with neither fanfare nor ceremony I’m suddenly free.2
I’ll not say I would’t/won’t miss this project. Oh no.
These four letter single syllable nouns have carried me through a lot since December of 2020 when they first showed up, their bite-size nature making them an elemental part of many a chore-filled day.
And yet the more I contemplate this idea and write about it here3 the more tickled I am to end with turf. Not only is it an excellent and satisfying word that will hopefully have a lovely time playing with the other earthen words in the box—
—but it also frees me from having to choose some other last word to be the last word in last words.
(Of course they could just be last or word or both, and then I’d be two words closer to…4 )
Just to be clear (especially to you little worried inner voice), in declaring this project complete I am not saying I’m done weaving words. How could I be? I LOVE weaving words and for all I know I might yet get to soil and song and tail and tale and nail and hail and hill and dale and all the others.
Stepping off the noun path just makes more room for the odd deliberate verb.
And lists.
And those sentence fragment trails I’ve so loved to follow.
But those are ideas for another day and right now it is best not think (much less write) about them lest I make up a new arbitrary plan—and then have to disentangle myself all over again.
Right now then, I think I will play a tune, take a stroll on a meandering path with Beryl—5
—and anticipate the pleasure of seeing some of you tomorrow at the Nearly Wild Weaving Tapestry Conversation.6 Thank you so much for choosing to come!
Remember to comment with the button above rather than by hitting reply, for if you choose the latter I won’t see your lovely words.
And if you know anyone who might enjoy these meanderings—or likes to make things out of felt— please do click the button below and see what they think.
It was back in April. I called the post praise song to the unfilled page.
Well I suppose writing about it here is a kind of ceremony. In fact I can almost hear a fanfare as I contemplate sending this to you. Ah well. Nothing wrong with a wee trumpet blast. If, that is, one knows how to play a trumpet.
Yes, I usually do learn a lot about what I think from the process of these Gusset posts in the moment, but rarely quite to this extent! For when I began writing I was pretty sure I was going to include the sentence, “it’s perfectly safe to explore this because I’m certain that I’ll never be able to stop at 94.” And now I’m more and more certain that I can. Who knew?
And yes, last is a noun. It’s the form used in the making of shoes. You probably knew that but I had to go look it up just in case my morning brain had it wrong.
I don’t have a recording, but I just played the jig Off She goes ,which happens to be the the first tune I learned by ear on the fiddle. Not that my instrument (Little Butternut) was actually a regular fiddle. She is, rather, a Whiplstix travel fiddle I got many years ago on my way between playing the cello and the concertina, and still comes out of her box now and again for fun. Neither she nor I sound a bit like the video (lack of practice aside, one of hte great things about Little Butternut is how quiet she is—gentle on the ears when one is learning or playing within earshot of just about anyone), but it’s a cheery tune so fun to pretend.
The event is now full but if you’re interested in seeing a replay you can contact Irene at irene@nearlywild.org. She’ll get back to you with details on how to pay (price is £10, same as on Eventbrite) and then after the session she’ll send you the Vimeo to stream at your leisure.
There is a certain charm to being done with something. It creates an opening for something else to become and then be done. Then again, you could always weave just one more four letter word and not bother with the asteriks. ;-)
I would love to share deeply on how this newsletter touched me (and it did; oh yes, it did!!). But my brain is singing 99 Bottles of Beer and I must depart before I curse you, dear Sarah ❤️