yesterday i moved into my new apartment. i burned incense, set up the altar on the mantle of the (bricked-in) fire place, and put on the afro-peruvian/flamenco music mixes that Belia sent me. "i am finally here," i thought to myself. i carefully unfolded the fan Justyna brought me from sevilla, spain and placed it on the altar next to the tibetan prayer wheel Adam gave me. the room, strange because it was new, slowly filled with familiar and loving memories and presences.
i had spent the day at Darion's garden a few miles outside of town. mostly i prepared potato eyes for planting. but i also sat and soaked in the environment from the hammock: the air, the trees, the red clay soil and the flowers with the densely yellow petals, the sun. i adjusted to being in a place where the language of interaction was foreign to me and felt just fine. i listened as people straddled two languages discussing tomorrow's community assembly. what was this feeling? contentment. being in harmony with where i am.
when i got home i sat on the porch, looking up and down the street at nothing in particular. (how wonderful porch-sitting is!). the neighbors waved from their own porches, introduced themselves and asked a few things about me.
durham feels good.
sometime towards the late evening it started pouring down rain, so, naturally, i went outside to sit on the porch and listen to god's applause. a handsome young man was sitting on the porch of the apartment next door. he said his name was Cole. after introductions he made his way over to my porch. my apartment is one half of a duplex, so the two porches, though closed off and separated by a foot or so of ground, are pretty close. so there we sat in the rain talking about where we're from and why we came to durham.
he talked about working on farms, construction, and in factories (mostly in georgia) and i talked about hotel work, school and being queer. we debated the pros and cons of socialism and workplace democracy and talked about weddings, love, and rain. he brought out his sketch book where he works on mechanical design and i brought out some of my poetry. he talked to me about being in love with his fiancé (damn! the good ones are so ofteb hetero/taken) and asked me my thoughts about god.
why am i saying all of this? because in one day i spent more time in warm conversation and environments in durham than i have had in a long time. i was living in space that wasn't hostile to me. a space that affirmed me, asked me questions, wanted my opinion. these people who had never known me took a kind interest and piqued my curiosity. we invited each other into our spaces almost spontaneously and share resources just as freely.
Cole's fed me two bars of chocolate in just two days and today we went shopping for house stuff together. Darion helped me move and is teaching me to drive a stick shift tractor from the 1940's. I gave Cole a carpet, made us a jumbalaya dinner, and am letting him use the washer/dryer in my apartment. I gave Darion some books on agriculture and have been discussing garden plans with him and offering analyses of the current economic crisis. it's amazing really. strangers who want to become friends; this immediate mutuality between us that i have had trouble finding my way back to over the past few years.
i introduced Cole to Darion and they talked excitedly about rigging car motors to propane, fixing motorcycles, and other mechanical things that i have no idea about. i just sat and soaked up the enjoyment of seeing two people share and inspire each other.
i have said that all of this is spontaneous, but it's not really. there's a sense of a shared experience, despite all our difference (Darion from méxico, Cole from georgia, me from michigan). we all stay as far from bourgee folks and have been on the subordinated end of a lot of power relations. there's a certain point of view that is common but unspoken: an anti-authoritarian ethic, a love of sharing our passions and listening to those of others (since work so often crowds out our passions), and a talent for relaxing.
this is not to say that we don't have different ideas, we surely do. but we could see our lives being complimentary, rather than antagonistic. and, of course, other people have other responses to working-class experience. but we had chosen to build a communal approach to the world with our experiences in a way both radically common to all of us and fundamentally unique for each of us. it was good to feel this with new people, to remember that it's possible, miraculous, and common. here we are, making and re-making working-class culture.
in just these past two days new relationships have established themselves. soon we'll be building bookshelves together and planting peanuts. Cole agrees now that workplace democracy is a great idea and i realize that i need to learn how to repair basic mechanical things and drive a tractor. Darion and i will go to lunch together for the period that i'm unemployed (his job is up the street from my apt) and put in a good word for Cole's girlfriend who's trying to get a job where he works.
already, durham feels like home.
i had spent the day at Darion's garden a few miles outside of town. mostly i prepared potato eyes for planting. but i also sat and soaked in the environment from the hammock: the air, the trees, the red clay soil and the flowers with the densely yellow petals, the sun. i adjusted to being in a place where the language of interaction was foreign to me and felt just fine. i listened as people straddled two languages discussing tomorrow's community assembly. what was this feeling? contentment. being in harmony with where i am.
when i got home i sat on the porch, looking up and down the street at nothing in particular. (how wonderful porch-sitting is!). the neighbors waved from their own porches, introduced themselves and asked a few things about me.
durham feels good.
sometime towards the late evening it started pouring down rain, so, naturally, i went outside to sit on the porch and listen to god's applause. a handsome young man was sitting on the porch of the apartment next door. he said his name was Cole. after introductions he made his way over to my porch. my apartment is one half of a duplex, so the two porches, though closed off and separated by a foot or so of ground, are pretty close. so there we sat in the rain talking about where we're from and why we came to durham.
he talked about working on farms, construction, and in factories (mostly in georgia) and i talked about hotel work, school and being queer. we debated the pros and cons of socialism and workplace democracy and talked about weddings, love, and rain. he brought out his sketch book where he works on mechanical design and i brought out some of my poetry. he talked to me about being in love with his fiancé (damn! the good ones are so ofteb hetero/taken) and asked me my thoughts about god.
why am i saying all of this? because in one day i spent more time in warm conversation and environments in durham than i have had in a long time. i was living in space that wasn't hostile to me. a space that affirmed me, asked me questions, wanted my opinion. these people who had never known me took a kind interest and piqued my curiosity. we invited each other into our spaces almost spontaneously and share resources just as freely.
Cole's fed me two bars of chocolate in just two days and today we went shopping for house stuff together. Darion helped me move and is teaching me to drive a stick shift tractor from the 1940's. I gave Cole a carpet, made us a jumbalaya dinner, and am letting him use the washer/dryer in my apartment. I gave Darion some books on agriculture and have been discussing garden plans with him and offering analyses of the current economic crisis. it's amazing really. strangers who want to become friends; this immediate mutuality between us that i have had trouble finding my way back to over the past few years.
i introduced Cole to Darion and they talked excitedly about rigging car motors to propane, fixing motorcycles, and other mechanical things that i have no idea about. i just sat and soaked up the enjoyment of seeing two people share and inspire each other.
i have said that all of this is spontaneous, but it's not really. there's a sense of a shared experience, despite all our difference (Darion from méxico, Cole from georgia, me from michigan). we all stay as far from bourgee folks and have been on the subordinated end of a lot of power relations. there's a certain point of view that is common but unspoken: an anti-authoritarian ethic, a love of sharing our passions and listening to those of others (since work so often crowds out our passions), and a talent for relaxing.
this is not to say that we don't have different ideas, we surely do. but we could see our lives being complimentary, rather than antagonistic. and, of course, other people have other responses to working-class experience. but we had chosen to build a communal approach to the world with our experiences in a way both radically common to all of us and fundamentally unique for each of us. it was good to feel this with new people, to remember that it's possible, miraculous, and common. here we are, making and re-making working-class culture.
in just these past two days new relationships have established themselves. soon we'll be building bookshelves together and planting peanuts. Cole agrees now that workplace democracy is a great idea and i realize that i need to learn how to repair basic mechanical things and drive a tractor. Darion and i will go to lunch together for the period that i'm unemployed (his job is up the street from my apt) and put in a good word for Cole's girlfriend who's trying to get a job where he works.
already, durham feels like home.
