good luck: striding up to the soda machine, wallet in hand, only to unzip the little coin pocket and find one 10 kr. coin, not brassy enough to overwhelm its being entirely alone. diet coke costs 12 kr. no friends in the immediate vicinity; no bills in the larger pocket of the wallet. glancing around for a solution, immediately noticing thumbprint-sized silver on the carpet beneath the couch. striking over, picking it up, striding back to the soda machine, feeding it, and noting with satisfaction the digital red response: a perfect 12 kr.
bad luck: bus breaking down five minutes into the ride. bus driver shrugging and offering advice in danish. walking out into cold dark rain, finding there's at least ten minutes to wait (and no cover) til the next bus.
but as bad luck goes, that's really nothing. i had no time pressure and a wool coat and working legs. i glanced over my shoulder from five steps past the busstop where i usually deboard, and noted with satisfaction the bus i could have waited for chugging up the street.
this morning, entranced by zadie smith, digestive biscuits, and sunshine, i overstayed my welcome in my corner-chair. when i glanced up, i realized it was 12:05 and too late to make it to a 12:15 class. as an oft-quoted old pervert once said, there are no accidents, so shrugging i got dressed and packed my bag without hurrying and am now using the time i should be spending in my favorite class to frivol, which i won't get a chance to do later as i dedicate the afternoon/evening to finishing my dk pol paper on danish film.
the distance between here and my mid-atlantic america homes seems particularly gaping now that i have hugs i have a physical need to give: to lana, fighting a lonely battle at umd; to sarahrose, standing up for herself at swat (such things aren't easy anyplace.); and to my friend nomi, who doesn't read this site but who sent me a brief, startling email this morning that made me smile.
Cannes (Mostly) Well Played, Marion Cotillard
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