Everything in its right place

the last time i talked to a friend of mine he said 'everything in its right place'. this is so true. i am getting everything that i need. every single thing. its like i had to come here. its like this place/space was made for me. the pace, the food, the people. time, money. everything is working out: i am getting a bike on saturday, there is a mac specialist that lives around the corner, they eat food i like, i can cook, i meet people that i like, there are demonstrations to go to.

henning (the dad) likes science fiction, history, photography. i can tell that sometimes kika (the mom) wants to hug me. apparently she wrote on facebook that she has a new 20 year old daughter. laura likes me too. we had breakfast together. i think she is cool, although i don't understand how she is fifteen and so self-possessed and sophisticated.

yesterday, i woke up and made breakfast. fresh bread (baked that morning by henning!) with pepperoni, cheese, apple, and avocado. read Infidel. set up the blog. got dressed. set out for the train station. i walked and walked until i found it, but it did not look at all like the one that i remembered from arrival. no matter. i was in the right zone, etc. i had no watch so i did everything in the time that it took to do it. no rush. patiently figured out which way the ticket went into the machine. leaned against the train doors. watched the other passengers. there was one women who reminded me of someone from home. people left their larger bags by the doors and then picked them up on their way out. i couldn't tell if guys were checking me out. i tried to give off an aura of confidence. maybe it was working. we passed through the station that is actually closer to my house that i couldn't remember how to get to.

when i got to the station i was supposed to meet a couchsurfer friend, i couldn't really figure out where she wanted to meet and i was twenty minutes early. so i waited, but felt conspicuous. took a walk. discovered that this was the area i had wandered on monday. went in to the big department store. i looked at the boots and everything was almost 1000 kroners or more ($150). but there were pretty people all over. i might just get tired of that. there was a guy selling hot nuts outside, they looked and smelled good, but i didn't get any. i think it might be a good habit to avoid spending money out of the house. it is really expensive and i don't have that much right now.

went back to the station. it was funny to see some other people who were also wandering around. i didn't smile at them because i didn't want to stand out, but i did think to myself, what if this is another DIS student and i meet them in the future, will our eyes light with recognition, will we laugh with relief and understanding of this moment? anyway, i finally saw the person i was waiting to meet to see an exibit of kara walker's work.

it was intense. that's what i kept saying over and over. there isn't really another word except brutal, or maybe insane. but i don't know who is insane or intense or brutal, kara walker or the rest of us. we watched a movie about her life and work. a move from cali to stone mountain, georgia during puberty. that'll mess you up for sure. to give a very brief overview, her work is about slavery and race relations in the united states. it is also about artistic representations of history and public consumption of art.

saw her silloettes. my mouth was gaping the whole time. then her shadow puppet work. no wonder she has a genius grant. she is. she is. she is. so much. in some of her work she wrote about herself. what is like for her to do this work. that meant a lot. i heard her. i heard her through that paper.

it was really brutal. i don't know what other people were getting out of it. i don't know what steph got out of it. i hope she thought it was worth the money. 35 kroner. 6 bucks. upstairs was an exhibit with more color. it was a good palette cleanser. i can't get over that kara's work. who is crazy? she who remembers? or us who try to forget? i shudder when i think about it.

the couchsurfer and i talked about dumpster diving, the music scene, bars, holidays, activism, queers, schooling. outside of the museum we were looking at a map and this guy came up to us and asked what we were looking for. this was the first time anyone had approached me randomly. i liked him. he was from the faroe islands and seemed a bit drunk. my new friend and i parted ways, but i think we will meet again. there is a people's house where they cook every monday. that sounds like something i would like to do. also, she knows about demonstrations and shows. it was a good experience.

over skype i found about that a friend's mom killed herself. i didn't know her. i just think about my friend and how confusing it has been for me to know or know of so many people that have died. this brings the number to eleven in the past five years? young, old, middle aged from despair and accident. there are so many wonderful things about life, i wish that this women could have found them.

i wrote this poem the other day and sent it to my friend for her and her mom, i think it applies:

you are you wherever you are.
home. home. away way way far away.
in every moment there is love and wisdom to curl in.
fear makes blinders so we can't feel our arms,
the arms,
that wrap us in embraces.

don't forget the ones,
the bright lights gone out, out t/here
who remind us of true beautiful wisdom.
us who hold our selves up to the light and say,
we are incandescent,
we are whole
we are grounded
we are sure footed and
ready.