blackgirl on mars: notes on a life in copenhagen (or how my alienation brings me closer to people).

I loved going to Coney Island despite the dirtiness and the sticky asphalt caused by spilled soda, discarded bubblegum and melted cotton candy. I heard, but never had, frog legs from Nathan's and was told they taste just like chicken. My favorite ride had to be the Cyclone and years later, the shakiness of the structure was enough to give me butterflies in my stomach-- not the ride itself. Coney Island was the two-headed baby in the glass jar and Keith--a buttery brown brother who, at 8, was my King and I, his Queen.

Tree crowns look like mountain tops & sky lines look like ocean views, deflated men exit OTB's thier dreams dismantled-- yesterday's news. Mother sits next to child a wall of hostility in the air, rocked by the movement of the train, the child, she doesn't stare. Project boys rig intercom systems love heavy on thier hearts, anything just to ring her... Recycling bins sit next to Redemption Centers, Sundays the hats as varied as Africa a laundry basket so full it regurgitates it's contents, clothes spill over all over the carpet, horses are metal with the glitziest of rims sneakers land on concrete hopscotch next to garbage bins. Cardboard smelling streets subways of wet metal steam whistles constanly out of a forgotten kettle. a little brown girl sits at a shaky kitchen table the ripped plastic digs into her young skin she eats salt fish and looks out the window as a plastic clock bought on Flatbush chips away at her lifetime.

Yesterday I figured it was best for me to take a walk in Copenhagen...be amidst the people and the buildings--get into the tempo of things. Since being back, I've kinda kept a low profile, holding selfishly on to wonderful vibrations gifted to me by my friends and family in NYC and PA. I've been on this road before, and if one is not careful, one could easily fall into a dripping pool of depression, a pathetic malaise of constantly comparing here with there, a denying of oneself to be here, in the present and thus become blinded to the beauty that is also here. So I put on my sneakers and started my walk. It's about a 10-15 minute walk from where I live to the center, but I decided to walk first to my old hood, Nørrebro, and enter the city from there. Nørrebro is where all the beautiful young people live, side by side with all the beautiful immigrants. You could find ripe mangoes, cheap phone cards and Persian restaurants. The sea of faces together form possibility, a sugge...

& I didn't forget the chain. It weighs, by our estimate, more than 10 lbs! It is but a testimony to what held so many Africans, captive on the slaveship. Imagine, being held down by 10 pounds or more of iron? See, there is an old slave ship chain in Marie's house and we passed it around in between the many visitors, the wine, the chit chat, we passed it around and many of us sat with it, feeling the energy, hearing the silent stories...Imagine, to be held down by a chain, 10 lbs or more. Who stood on the other side of this chain? How many journeys did this chain make, across the middle passage? How many tears fell upon it, only to rust its metal? Who would make such a thing? Think--this chain held men, women and yes, children. Who would make such a thing? We are build upon a nation of heroes... I feel honored to have held that chain. I think more of us should try to get our hands on one...it brings home the inhumanity, the strength and heroism that is inherent in our people...

I can't forget to tell you that when I got home today, one of our fish was dead... I think the goldfish bullied it to death. :-( That meant I had to take care of the goldfish... :-( Having pets is not easy! But anyway, on a more pleasant note, I also wanted to thank Michael and Reggie for coming over the day before my last New York Day. Reggie and I go back to the days when the Barnes & Nobles on Astor Place was in fact, a Conran's Habitat (that's for all the REAL old school folk) and we've been friends ever since. Michael is his very amazing and I do so approve partner in life (and crime?). I also forgot to mention John's insisting on my stopping by Random House to see Chris Jackson. It wasn't that I didn't want to see Chris, it was more that I was beginning to stress because I hadn't packed yet but again, I thankfully let John talk me into it and I was very happy I did. I met Chris Jackson years ago. I remember we ate at Gonzales Gonzales on Broadw...

It's been about a week now since I've been back and I've had a lot of time to think and reflect on my visit to New York, and I keep going back to one thing only: I am a LUCKY woman! Finally John McGregor made his appearance (on Sunday I think?) and the first night we sat on Marie's stoop talking until 3.30 in the morning. The two giant trees, elm I think, canopied us and seemed even to crown us. We managed to talk about Fern (his old elementary school sweetheart), the meaning of love (putting someone else before yourself) and the New Adventures of John McGregor, my own Don Quixote. Next day was Monday, the day before Kai and I returned to Copenhagen. Brooke from McNally Robinson had agreed to carry a couple of copies of The Organist's Daughter, so I needed to run down there with one more copy and of course, to meet him. Big thanks to Clemenza Hawkins, a truly inspired artist and friend who recommended the hook-up and made it happen. Thanks Clemenza! Just talking a...

Sekou Sundiata Obituary: Gifted Poet Sekou Sundiata (August 22, 1948 -- July 18, 2007) by Louis Reyes Rivera On Wednesday, July 18, 2007, at 5:47a.m. (ET), poet Sekou Sundiata passed away. A highly esteemed performing poet, Mr. Sundiata wrote for print, performance, music and theater. Born Robert Franklin Feaster in Harlem , on August 22, 1948, Sundiata came of age as an artist during the Black Arts/Black Aesthetic movements of the 1960s and 1970s. While attending the City College of New York (CCNY), where he began reciting poetry publicly, Sundiata converged with several other student activists, including once-mayoral candidate of Pittsburgh and longtime friend, Leroy Hodge, to form the basis for what soon became known as the Black and Puerto Rican Student Community of City College (BPRSC). This phalanx of 400 students soon made their own history, closing the 21,000-student campus during the Spring of 1969, to demand, among other things, that CCNY be renamed Harlem University . The ne...

Yo home girl, You having a good time? You been missin all the fine weather, not. we just had sun yesterday for the first time in weeks... Hey just wanted to know if you could grab some bees wax for me. Murry's Black... My mom already sent me some cocoa butter via Justin mom she said my elbows looked ashy.... I hope all is well Love Claudzilla

Sekou Sundiata has passed on. Sekou taught at Lang College, my former college and was an amazing poet, writer and I'll tell you all right now: Human Being. I'll never forget how, during a time where lines were drawn and opinions bubbled, he still looked me in the eyes. After graduating from college, I had the honor of reviewing a spoken word album of his for Vibe. Throughout the years, I made it a point to follow up on his career, see what he was up to. See, Sekou was good people. Funny thing is, Tony Medina showed up here last Friday with a picture of Sekou, Kurt Lamkin, Suzanne Lori Parks and himself from a reading he did at Lang College, what did he say? 14 Years ago. I'll tell y'all about last night, and the night before that. But not right now. Right now is Sekou's moment. Click here for more information on this masterful man. RIP Lesley-Ann

As I awoke this morning the only sound to be heard was the constant chattering of birds which I can still hear as I sit here typing. Cars pass now and then, but it is the sound of the birds which capture my attention. The tweet tweets are muffled by the sound of a passing helicopter, but they persevere and welcome me into the present. Last night we cooked dinner together and as Debbie and I stood in the kitchen cutting vegetables, I fell into a Lesley I had forgotten. It was all in the rapport--the ability to pass remarks and know that it is valued and appreciated and vice-versa. This is priceless. Before that, Marie and I did the Fairway thing. Marie calls it "therapy" and I can understand why. Aisles and aisles of products that offer a bit of respite from what could be the calamitous energy of it all. This supermarket is huge and I don't think there is anything in it you can't find. As the cashier rang up the goods, I saw the setting sun across the river. The lower...

You know I've been gone from New York too long when I buy a pair of kid's socks for six dollars! I don't know what I was thinking--between Kai pulling on me and demanding my attention and the frustrated, burnt out rock & roller salesguy, I lost myself for a minute. It was that easy. A couple of evenings ago my brother drove us from my sister's in PA back to New York. It was a good trip at my sisters, and my sister and I figured out that it has been 7 years since we all were together like that. Six years. Just like that. Kai is enjoying the trip immensely. He recognizes that when he returns to Denmark, he will now have a whole new host of people to miss. But I reassure him that the trick is enjoying where you are in the present. You master that and then you ok. Yesterday my brother and his daughter Geriah, drove in to see us before they began their nine hour journey back to Ohio. He brought us rotis and we took a short walk around the neighborhood. They were filming...

Right now my mother yells my name from another room in the house. She always does this and I attribute it to her country ubringing, but then again, I do this as well. The point is, I usually get annoyed at this as daughter's, impatient with thier mother's fallibilities, are wont to do. However, I'm not going allow myself to do this, although she just interrupted me again, asking me, "What did Mummy Hildred say?" alluding to the telephone call to Trinidad we, the family, is in the midst of. Right now, for the first time in God knows how long, we, the family are actually together under one roof and speaking to my Grandmother in Trinidad. We: Shelley, Gerry, Mom, Gerry's daughter Geriah (what a beautiful and bright young lady!) and my son Kai. Mom made saltfish and bake, the sun is shining after a rainy evening and this morning, I was able to hear the trees talk as I lay on my bed. Their language is universal: it is the same in Trinidad, in Tobago, in Maui, on th...

Yesterday Kai, my mom and I took the bus from New York to PA. It was a lovely bus ride, about an hour through the seemingly unending highways of New Jersey and finally through the mountains of PA to the Deleware Water Gap. Kai grew excited when he realized he was leaving the city behind, "You didn't tell me where we were going would be a lot of nature!" So he is happy and very much in his element. Before we fell asleep last night he asked, "Mommy, which one do you like better, PA or New York?" I turned the question around so as to not influence his answer and he answered PA. "There too many people and buildings and stores in New York." Ha! I started talking about Glen Thompson in my last entry. Glen was a kid traveling back from London and found out that John Berger was on the same airplane as he was. John Berger has written many amazing books, one of them, and one of my favorites is "Ways of Seeing" which talks about the pyschology of how w...

Live Life As I sit here in my old boss's office, hearing the outside traffic (transporting other human beings on their own path in thier own lives), the dim sound of someone else's radio and distant chatter is my only company. For the first time since arriving here, I am alone. Huge Sigh. I missed my own company. The ability to review my life and think in what way I can actually improve it, be a better person and mother. Wow. New York. How did I ever live here? Don't get me wrong, I looooove my home, but to be honest, I also really hate it. There is so much to love--the wide variety of human beings, the eccentricities of humanity, the great abundance of amazing food, but my goodness, there are some things to hate about it as well and I would be the first to say that WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ALL OF THE POOR PEOPLE IN NEW YORK? Well, actually, we should say in the whole world, cuz as I write this there are many, not only right here in the city from which I type, who are going...

On vacation now & thought I'd better write before I checked my bank account, which could have an adverse effect on things. Seriously though, Kai and I are off to New York tomorrow for two weeks. I'm looking forward to spending time in New York with Kai and old friends. I am very happy and fortunate that I have this to give to my son. The great news is, I'm off for a month! Yeah! Two weeks in New York and then when I return to Copenhagen, chill chill chill! Yeah! Been making more copies of The Organist's Daughter and will have some in hand for New York. Feedback so far has been really positive and I am loving every minute of this process of creation. Revised the first few chapters of The Mothers of Memory and very happy with it. The spoken word album is also going very well. The only bummer is of course losing Willie Mae. The good thing about it is that I am back in touch with her daughter India. But this is a long story. Here's a story I wrote a while ago, ins...