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

(dedicated to the north african sisters) There are so many  beautiful black girls  in copenhagen caramel & tamarind gold & chocolate there are so many  beautiful black boys in copenhagen their dreams they hide loving them wide,  out there in the open.  there are so many beautiful danes in copenhagen warriors once their souls  awaken there are so many  trees  in copenhagen growing tall Digging deep  til  bottom.  copenhagen, june 19, 2013

blackgirl on mars...the cartoon! the lab, cph 2007 I guess when you take the first step, everything really starts coming together. For the sake of saving my good stories for my book, I'll make this short. Teaching will no longer be my profession as of the end of this academic school year. One of the things I love about being a writer is that it is the perfect excuse to get into something : whether it's traveling, working at a bar or painting a house, you are always in touch with your inspiration: Life. As I've mentioned before, teachers have had a powerful impact on my life. As a child from a not-so-structured home (no disrespect to Mom & Dad who were doing their best with the economic hustle) school was always a welcome destination for me. There, the rules were clear. It didn't mean I always followed them, but at least they were clear and again, there was structure. School was something I always excelled at, partially because of my natural intellectual ...

my literary muse... One of the favourite facts I have ever learned in my life came from Dabney, or Mckinley as so many of us called him... McKinley was the man who introduced me to martinis (I don't drink anymore...but wow!) ; educated me on his days hanging out with James Baldwin; told me about his experiences in the Korean War. Mckinley was a surrogate father to me, and his partner, Marie D. Brown my literary and life mentor.  I remember having an amazing conversation with him (one of many) where he told me this story about Picasso. About how there were days that P wouldn't get out of bed, how he would have to be begged and cajoled by whatever lover he had at the time. He had to be told he was great, to get out of bed, because, well, he was sometimes depressed. That story will always stay with me. Love to the spirit of Mckinley, and the spirit who brought me to him. May we all embrace peace. Love you  Marie D. Brown Pablo Picasso, 1952 : From the moment that art c...

To say that I'm having some kind of slow-motion awakening is an understatement. I've been here for 14 years. Time to start telling the stories I've been collecting. A lifetime of stories. Thanks for all those who have been incredibly patient during these trying times. To hell with every one else. farvel, the lab

Big-up to Katrine May Hansen for initiating this project!