I typed up three recent poems I wrote, and attached my name (no backing out of this now!) and the 52 adventures URL. I knew I had to pick a place where a lot of people I know could see them – otherwise, where’s the challenge? – so I chose to post them in Central Square, close to my place of work. I went to Kim’s office in Kendall Square one Saturday evening and we sat around talking while we printed out copies of our words. When we were done, we swung our jackets around our bodies, zipped up, and drove over to Central.
We parked behind what used to be the Enormous Room and now is Brick and Mortar at around 9:30pm. In a last-minute act of brilliance, we had realized before we left that we needed a way to hang everything up, so we brought heavy-duty packing tape and a stapler. The stapler was of absolutely no use, so we had to make the packing tape work. I hastily pulled some tape off the wheel, and it promptly stuck to itself, as it so likes to do. I pulled again with satisfying success, then started to rip off a piece with my fingers. But it stubbornly refused to budg e, aside from collapsing in a sticky heap, so Kim and I frantically started to look for ways to break if off, having fallen short in our brilliance to bring scissors or anything obvious to cut it with. Meanwhile, people walking around in Central started to stare at the scene we were making as we laughed at our ridiculous attempts to post paper to a light post, the light at the top of which was shining down on us like a suspicious cop who’s just come across some highly questionable shenanigans.
I finally found a sharp key after rummaging around in my teal Mary Poppins bag, and pulled it out happily, and with a sigh of relief too. I sawed the piece of tape with my key-saw and finally got the first poem up! Yes, we’re in business!
Kim and I proceeded to post our floppy white papers up and down Mass Ave. from Central proper to the edge of MIT campus like Jehovah’s witnesses on a mission, covering lamp posts, cross-walk signals, bus stops, trees, electrical boxes, building fronts, you name it, until we ran out of writing to post. We had planned to sit down at Zuzu for a drink after and possibly catch a glimpse of any reactions the copies right outside might spur, but it was packed, just like every other place, it seemed. By the time our fingers were numb, we settled on the Asgard Pub and started warming up with a celebratory drink. Eh, we laughed and cheered, they’ll get ripped down within 24 hours anyway!
About 60 hours later, I drove down Mass Ave. on my way to work, waiting to take a right onto Albany St., toward the parking garage. I saw it immediately, before I even pulled up to the light, out of the corner of my eye. One of my poems, bright white against the dull, slate lamppost on the corner, shining like its the goddamned sun, like its a flashing neon sign purposely calling attention to itself. For a second, I started to panic, hoping to command the paper with my mind to just tone it down a notch, dude, Jesus H. But before I could even start to talk my ego out of this panic, I involuntarily broke into a self-satisfied smile.
Adventure No. 4, check and check.