Maze 2:8:1 Storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 8

Part 1

In the last episode 2:7:4 Bless starts flirting with Black just to get under Ame's skin. Then the girls hit the road, leaving Black and Maze behind. Ame is pondering her experience of friendship and non-best-friendship as she can see her boy fighting in the side mirror. 

someone loves you

Someone you love, there's a feeling you're circling them all the while, watching out for them, looking over their shoulder; follow them to market, smile when they smile, across from them on the subway train, flickering light, blink when they blink, in the rolling uneven snaking through the city substreets. Thoughtful to your thinking, cry when you cry. Someone loves you, there's a feeling they're circling you all the while.

2016

Maybe in 2016 we can put our Beats headphones on and drown out the world. Maybe someone will hit us over the head and we will fall in a snow bank. Maybe we will wake up and have a whole different take on life, seeing remarkable visions and offering to pump gas for people at filling stations. Maybe we will fall in love with the first person we see, and ignore all the subsequent restraining orders. Maybe we will get confused and our cell phone won't be able to get us out of it. Maybe our confusion will lead us home, in a roundabout way, and we will recall 2015 like it was a long, long time ago. Maybe we will have our records expunged and our CDs sponged, and become honorary members of our households. Maybe we will get edged out by all the millenials, and feel special on the margins; a wide open space about to get marked up. That's where we get to go and write all our notes, anyway. And when anyone looks back, they will only care about us, they won't even bother with the mainstream. In twenty seventeen.

keepin' it 100

I gave up once, too. I gave up on myself a hundred times. It was really awful. Soulless. Blank. The only way out for me was to believe in myself and have a cause. I wasn't given a purpose, I found a purpose. Something so much greater than myself. The forces, if you align with them, can give you courage to live authentic, I mean, to be yourself no matter where you are or who is trying to boss you around, no matter what your circumstance, you shine forth and brightly. And find that you are one of a kind, you are needed. And wherever your passion lies, you go for it, purposefully, with a giving spirit. In 2016, do not hold back for anyone or anything. We need you.

even social workers get the blues

I tracked the thought to the very center of my brain, where I detonated it at the precipice of a heartbroken synapse. Only then could I tussle with my hair, drink my coffee chocolate and head out the door, down the stairs and out the gate. I ran to the river, over the train tracks and into open space where the sun denounced the darkness. You will be mine, forever, how I remember you. So I chose not to create any more memories. There is no other way. I am like the sun now.

lucky kid #2 (companion piece)

Quiet life on softened streets, all the bad news backed away. You lucky kid. I washed my hair with 100,000 molecules. Each one like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the right ways. I made it to the site. I could peacefully fold my legs up under me on the couch facing the east,  the house where nobody's home, facing, pinching my slip as I picked it up and let it go hang around freely, pinching myself. You lucky kid you. All the pages were viewed, in a free sweep of eyes (not mine). To be sure they really existed, outside of myself. Not so easily destroyed by water, heat, air, time. Thumbs rubbing the ink to a fade I can no longer describe. Each curve of every letter like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the spectacular finishes. Flourishes. You lucky kid. Thinking of a friend, one I haven't even heard of in years, a keystroke away, a daydream, attacking a search engine with a heart on a saturday in America, one truffle at a time, pulling lightly on the ends of twisted plastic until the whole thing rolls over and out, examining the condition of my condition, remembering the ionic bond even if it hurts. Life I love you.



the lucky kid
Posted on December 25, 2015 by KatYa


Softened life on quiet streets today. All the bad news backed into shells and shadows or sank into the mud for a second. I stuck mostly to my routine, after and before I spoke with my family over the phone. Now the past may be the past and the future, the future. But not today. This afternoon I spoke with my family. Then the morning became a golden dawn. Then an evening, alone. A holiday. Coulda been sad I coulda been sorry. Weighed against the afternoon’s words, I was given meaning and washed it through my hair. I smile cause I’ve been made who I am, again, the lucky kid.

Maze 2:7:4 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 7

Part 4

In the last episode 2:7:3 Bless and Ame have a little tug of war going on. Someone's not too happy for someone else's happiness. 

not even a mouse

all through the house I walked, not even myself, looking around like a stranger with a window into the life of some wannabe, I guess it was me,  not desperate just wannabe better I suppose. Wannabe more loving. Wannabe more real. Wannabe more conscious. There are books everywhere and a kindle with many more trapped inside it. Even more in my head. I'm your idea girl. I am yours. You can have me. Wannabe now, all through the house, rolling wheels of swiss cheese, not even a mouse... wannabe me, with or without you.

Maze 2:7:3 storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 7

Part 3

In the last episode 2:7:2 Ame talks about the general happenstance of waiting for her boyfriend while he steals ice cream,  dealing with the johnny b. dangerous checking her out,  her efforts to recycle, his efforts to romance her in a vacant lot maybe. 

painful good

The rains came and washed us all away, and it was painful good. The sheets were in the streets and offline. The beats were pushing out your feet as you walked to work and back, the rhythms had to find their way into the greater sound. The image of what we once were working toward dematerialized again, and it was painful good.

Will you lunge at me all the while and try to fade me to your shade, boy oh boy, can I stand there and stand this. Let's reduce the whole equation to a single interaction and then may I stretch and remark how my bones are brittle and my tendons torn apart and, boy oh boy, let me politely tell you how it feels, so painful good. Can we scream secondary to the silent psychosis ripping down the spinal cord?

Without saying anything, can i stand letting you miss me entirely? In your all caps demeanor. Your bold face. Project jaw. Maybe we have been online too much, can we waterproof the devices and take them in the shower? I wanna exfoliate your facebook. Into another decade. A dimension floated out upon an ocean shelf. Waiting for the tectonic plate shift. Fuck all and painful good.

Should I forgive the foggy weed, too much tar baby tar, sheets of white snow blanketing your septum. You could have showered more and shaved. I see you in the star wars. The acid razed the ego. I took the kids by their little hands, the orphans hung out their shingles in a palm. Then we all stuffed in there, creaking chairs in the dark, buttered popcorn and wrinkling plastic chipped off the corners by a fingernail, straws drawn like bows across the plastic. Waiting for what.

Make them hum again. Some easy screen in some hood, and painful good. Predictable lazy guesswork again and again and again.  Firestorm; the white light is infected. I went to suck the foam off my latte and got puss. I had to retreat to google plus. They might love me there, I thought. They would love you, too. So little did we know. The painful good in all of it, all.

what 2008 looked like

She met a guy on the streets of San Francisco, she was looking to score and she would, like usual and it was two thousand eight maybe, a distant cry from straight, well she met a guy randomly and they went back to his place to fix, and they made it all night in his place, in front of his roommate who was twice their age and they were pretty young, and the dealer was just down the hall, one of a thousand boarding houses in the city, and it was all just a knock on a door away, the instant sorta gratification and the excitement of strangers meeting in the night, and taking a dare, scoring and fixing and fucking and all that sorta nonsense kids in their thirties engage in, and he knew nothing of her past and she knew nothing of his, and they didn't fucking care! The old man thanking her for letting him watch and stare, wow, what the fuck came into vocabulary that night and then the dawn, and they had made it like all night, she thought there was some music maybe but who could remember? When two became one and then smiling when she come and then and there she goes, walking on down the street, picks up the car after a wakeup and a spike, drives a couple blocks back and puts on the hazards in the excitement of the high and the rain, and the flashing yellows and here he comes again, running out the door and get inside! and they drive to safeway for some odwalla and iced coffee and maybe something to eat, and there's an easy connection in the lot, thanks a lot, thanks a lot, and they are smiling and back for some more? until noon when it's all over, but gimme your number, she says, and he is thrilled to put the shred of paper in her hand, cause he knows she's gonna call, a week later, and do it all over again. She drives away laughing and trying to fix her hair but it's so obvious, hell, it's so obvious so let it go and that's wild.

Maze 2:7:2 Storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 7

Part 2

In the last episode 2:7:1 Bless almost sideswipes a car, trying to drive the van, and she's reluctant to admit she's borrowed Ame's clothes again. Ame describes Maze's ice cream sandwich habit. 

Journal # 12.19

I got a moment to myself in my room. I found a string of uncolored christmas lights at the local Rite Aid, a celestial body circled around a teddy bear on a night table in the darkness, the play by play announcer at low volume keeping calm. This is the room with the bookshelves reaching up to the cathedral ceiling (sounds magnificent but it's very plain) where I spend most of my time, adjacent to the kitchen,  where I sleep and write and let my thoughts sift through the walls. One large window to let the eastern light in. Residual scents of magical beans roasting and percolating. The same room where I often read or have company and do readings, the room where I have cried over losses and despaired over broken ends, the room with the white walls and the Van Gogh print in which I often see things that aren't there, the same room where I try and play guitar. I got a moment to myself with the lights so bright and warming, little stars I borrowed from the sky, kittens asleep on the blanket on the bed. Thank you sky, thank you home, thank you pretty peaceful life in a chaotic world. I guess there truly is calm after a storm.

Maze 2:7:1 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 7

Part 1

In the last episode 2:6:4 Ame and Bless hijack Freddy's van and leave him and plastic girl in the dust, heading to Baskin-Robbins for national ice cream day.

force me through the holidays

I could take my happy freshly home-highlighted head on a smiling walk down the road, the street flanked by sycamore trees and not so many post office boxes anymore, throwing all their skinny winter arms into the empty sky asking for what? Ya I could on a head full of Peruvian Oro Verde.

I am makin' room for us so small in my head, I only have a cupboard left to rent  it's like New York City in there. Ya but I'll do it just to keep you. I could freeze and throw my arms up, too, and stand there until it's dark and a Ford Explorer with one headlight takes me out -- so how I feel is real --  I hurt the way you hate me, passively, denyin it all along like your some kinda saint cannot hate.

I love the way I remember us. I could continue, long past the ancient era of news and music and video on paper and tapes. Or I could shut the cupboard up and paint it, put the painting over it my friend just gave me. Something new, you know. Where love goes after a dead end. Left me stupid, left me dumb, left me empty at the end of a road, thanks a lot. Then told me keep going, right off the road. If I still loved you I could and you know I would.

 How much silence is left to dilute the poison in a media concentrated mind. Give me an ugly sweater, some pumpkin pie and a league of national football and force me through the holidays. Honey, I'm sorry, I don't mean to wake you...but... how much poison is left, is there enough to kill the silence?

No, no, fuck all that!

Gimme a broken home to fix.  I'll take my memories on multigrain, multiplatinum, put it on a wall, behind glass. Then one night in creative impulse, after he chases up my skirt and back down into a dream, I'll break the glass and pull the alarm, hover out on a hard drive's shiny disc, slicing through an mp3 made by you and me. I'll run away and then walk back. I'll love you in secret. I'll make love with a memory pulled out of a locket. I'll stab the knife into the socket. I'll pray for us in public. I'll stare into the eyes of the baby tigers.

Journal # 12.17.15

I wanna hold on to that little bit of joy that comes over me like a mist on a foggy morning, I am wet with it, a taste of clarity of wholeness as if all my past is right here with me and I could take you through my eyes to any given moment, yes, come after a really good night's sleep so rare, or maybe if I run a few miles really hard and fast as I can, I can get that special feeling like all is well, the future has no stake in it, when in the empire the interest rates begin climbing, from the base of Denali after stasis, after a decade of descent... what does it matter for my heart also ascends up Mount St. Elias and into my head for a second, tethered to a wild pack of neurotransmitters in the Cortex ravine by well placed stakes and caribeners, awaiting the next big storm will send me in a rush flying to another death, my adrenaline  drizzled over the top of Mount Foraker only to get hit by the sun a couple days later and reborn, over Endocrine valley where the estrogen in me highlights the tips in the alpine meadow, under a cobalt blue, and my spirit summits Mount Blackburn for to see all the way to Canada and to you, our memories collide for past lives, within a life, covering all 16,237 feet of Mount Sanford, yes, and I want to cry then but my joy prevents me, and you gotta believe I wanna hold on to this feeling, I wanna stay here cause I like to believe it was a lot of work to get here to where the vision rewards me, atop Mount Fairweather I can see you and me so clearly and maybe not picturesque but we know where we stand. Sure maybe I don't know you anymore and can honestly ask you who the hell are you anymore? even if it hurts I just have to ask. Because beyond all the wonder I felt in meeting you in this world in this life, well, we are past that now, aren't we? I sure as hell wish you were here with me again, to feel it too... the life of love survives beyond the love affair and into a stirring night alone into a dawn on the side of any mountain carry me away.

Journal # 12.16.15

I still wished the clock would stop and give us a chance to breathe but time preferred to kick ass, drag our hearts around, and mine kept getting snagged in the pricklies or thumped down some steps or stepped on by a bunch of children runnin' blind for milk and cookies, kick the can around the parking lot for fun, ran up some stairs and dropped from heights to see if it would bounce or explode, or what, and either way sure was hell of a good time, I swear, when you have my undivided attention, guys just stand there and step on it, suddenly great theatrics, entertainment, and maybe even a bloody mess.

When you care the most, when they have you, you can get heartless. Winter never wanted to be so icy cold. It just had to. Yes I will warm it up with some Charlie Brown Xmas cards and long live snail mail. The post office is my second favorite living museum behind the bookstore. Some millenial stopped me yesterday sayin' wait, you mean people still do that? I was thinking, wait, did you just say that? Never liked sending cards when it was the thing to do, and now when it's going out of style I'm intent upon it.

These songs, without words, arise in my head. I gotta put words to them. I was chosen. I was chosen for the in-law unit out back. Where is she? She's in the shadows, we don't see her much. She's in the periphery. She's part of the goddam scenery, dontcha know? She produces something fierce! You shouldn't bother her, really, she likes to be left alone and do what she does. It's something magical, I suppose. But you won't make much sense of her, she's not exactly on the planet anymore, everything is dissociated, tangential at best. Maybe her heart got caught in the blender one too many times, ya, it's a bit of a tragedy. They told her but you have so much to offer just one too many times. Her potential rose up and bricked her in the head. She's not quite there, but we love her just the same. If she would only let us.

Maze 2:6:4 storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 6

Part 4

In the last episode 2:6:3 Ame is in West Oakland with Freddy while he works on cars, and she talks about his work ethic, what motivates him. One of the escorts, 'Uma's girls', shows up. She is noticeably plastic. 

Maze 2:6:3 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 6 

Part 3

-- -- AUDIO NARRATION -- --

In the last episode 2:6:2 Ame is talking about her friendship with Bless and Freddy, and the time Freddy helped her get gum out of her hair. Then he took her on his Harley to Berkeley to a salon where she has a dreamy moment in soap suds. 

changes and reviews

Friends,

Good things are happening! I changed the cover of my horror story, Everlee & Lee, see it below! Also, I have received about a half dozen verbal reactions from people who are currently reading my new book Maze, mostly friends and acquaintances who did read the first one, and they have all been very positive! As most of you know, I am also telling the story by way of video readings, from beginning to end, on my Youtube channel.

Also, the first written review of  Maze

came through on Goodreads yesterday...

Karen rated it 4 of 5 stars:
"I have not read the first book, so I was quite lost when I first started reading. The book is short, and while not action packed, it ended with a bang which I found satisfying. I'm not sure if I will go back and read the first, but I will pick up the next one."

Please pick up a copy, if you want something different to read over the holidays. 

I can only promise you it will be unlike anything else you have ever read!

Maze 2:6:2 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 6

Part 2

In the last episode 2:6:1 Ame revisits her past briefly, how she got to Oakland in the first place, and mentions her closest friends and allies, Bless and Freddy.

the temples

I wasn't on anything, I was just on . 
I was circumstantial.

You told me and you told me again and you told me one more time, and sure I heard you but why would that change anything? I was still gonna hit the streets late at night and up to no good. Your social was not my social, even if we both had ice cream. I cannot even relate, and you think just cause we are related I ought to, like it was good form, I oughta conform to your standard. The whole attitude was circumstantial. And the circumstance was the influence you had over me, waving it like a badge in my face, demanding, demanding!

Laughter.
Clasping of hands behind head.
Pulling elbows in tight against the ears.
The temples.

And if you were to hit the streets with me, what would that be like? Can I imagine it, or will you come into my thoughts with a big fat roll of duct tape and mark my internal off like a crime scene? I don't care if you consider all my lifestyle, irrelevant. What am I gonna tell you, anyway, as you lean upon your own misunderstanding? What I care about, is whether you care how I feel when you cast away all I have become and am becoming...

With a letter
with a look
with a social media
snub.

Hey you! I can dream for us, can't I? I can dream we can meet on equal terms on soft ground some day. Over easy at the diner in nobody's home town. WIth no control over the music in the atmosphere. They might be playing dubstep in 20 years. No more Sinatra. You might need a cane to walk. Ageism tossed in there with the hash browns. But will you stay closed off at the end of a smoke? Not in my dream. In my dream

I will be holding
you tight. Rubbing your
 temples to
sleep.

Maze 2:6:1 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 6

Part 1

In the last episode 2:5:3 Ame talks about Maze and his demons, his psychology, what motivates him. 

If you are interested in buying this book, Maze, it is currently available on Amazon.com in both ebook and paperback forms. Just click on the cover image to the right of this post or the 'Publications' link at the top where all of my books are listed. 

Maze 2:5:3 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 5

Part 3

In the last episode 2:5:2 Maze's family history is explored, including his father's egregious use of alcohol and credit cards, and his mother's determination to get out of Mexico City. 

me and my baby

me and my baby

Maze 2:5:2 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 5

Part 2

In the last episode 2:5:1 Maze's history is explored. 

Maze 2:5:1 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 5

Part 1

In the last episode 2:4:3 nothing much happens, Ame talks a bit more about the boarding house and the people who live there, and preferring crazy eights to sex. 

Maze 2:4:3 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 4

Part 3

In the last episode 2:4:2 Ame and Maze head up to the room and run into a 'Malafide'. One of bad faith. Black is introduced. More about the Delux kind. And a Fischer Price security detail. And a silver snake, wrapped around a finger.

Maze 2:4:2 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 4

Part 2

In the last episode 2:4:1 Maze and Ame pay rent to the Pakis who run the boarding house where he lives. Ame has a moment with a vending machine. She finds a friend in the woman behind the counter, who laughs as they turn out their pockets to pay rent in pennies. Someone needs some lifesavers.

Maze 2:4:1 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 4

Part 1

In the last episode 2:3:4 Ame watches the strange behavior in the street of the woman she accosted days before, and isn't quite sure what to make of it or how to feel. She and Maze head back to his boarding house. She rides her bike while he skateboards. She's clearly in love. Good news, the book just reached it's highest ranking yet on Amazon kindle...

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #20,674 Free in Kindle Store, #28 in the subcategory.

Maze 2:3:4 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 3

Part 4

In the last episode 2:3:3 the two lovers are heading back home. They stop at the 7-11 for some coffee and are treated like punks. Which they are. Maze behaves badly and gets them kicked out. Out on the street there is a commotion. Someone familiar to Ame is in the street actin crazy. 

Maze 2:3:3 -- storytelling

Book Two 

Chapter 3

Part 3

In the last episode 2:3:2 our protagonist's love interest, Maze, makes his entrance. On his skateboard. As seen through her eyes. 

Maze 2:3:2 -- storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 3

Part 2

In the last episode 2:3:1 Ame leaves the scene of the crime with her bike and some boots for her new friend (and kindred Delux) in the room down the hall. She shows the girl (who is in some sort of drug-induced haze) some kindness and sleeps beside her in the room. Kell wakes startled, come between worlds, and not thrilled to have a stranger in bed with her. Ame takes off but not without offering the boots and her friendship. Kell doesn't know what to think but thanks her anyway.

Maze 2:3:1 -- a reading

Book Two

Chapter 3

Part 1

In the last episode 2:2:3 Ame uses her energies to perform the alchemy upon the thief, who dissolves into a pure pool of being and soaks through the carpet (which cannot seem to hold him) and into the floor, which becomes waterlogged with what's left of him. 

Maze 2:2:3 -- a reading

Book Two

Chapter 2

Part 3

In the last episode 2:2:2 Ame comes upon the thief and scans the situation so to determine her course of action. She sees her bike there in the room full of stolen goods. She takes account of his deepest personal desire before proceeding.

Maze 2:2:2 -- a reading

Book Two

Chapter 2

Part 2 

In the last episode 2:2:1 Ame comes across some runaways while tracking the thief up past the mezzanine. She gives a protection spell to the orphan boy she saw in the street. On her way to confront the thief she also comes across some Shades, and a young girl in one of the rooms, who has accidentally dropped a door (off its hinges) on her foot. 

Journal 11.21.15

The holidays are a heavy time for some of us and me. I wish you all the best with family and friends and laughter with strangers, or the most delicious silence in being alone in the quiet comes over the USA all the holiday weekend long. I wish you long walks into colorful autumn foliage. I wish you good health and a vision for your future. I wish you peaceful dreaming to maybe meet again those you have lost, and hold their hands in another world. I wish you warmth. I wish you be forgiven and given fresh chances and good food. I wish you would be kind to yourself, and if you find yourself alone again, you will be there in my heart, I swear, remember, we are all alone really, and it's okay.   - K

Update... On the writing and self-publishing front, I am trying to stay active with the Daughter of Darkness while it's fresh in my mind from working on Maze. When I published Book One last February, I took about a month away from the series before diving back into it. This time I don't wanna stop. Truthfully I don't know where Book 3 is gonna go. I mean I have 55,000 words of material I wrote last year, but much of that was written before the plot for Maze came together. There are some good hunting scenes, for sure, which I plan to use. If you have any ideas let me know.

Finally, I hope that my idea of reading all of Maze on this website is okay with you. I understand some would like to read my usual flashes, my creative nonfiction, but I am thinking about putting that aside so I can do these readings instead. They both take up about an equal amount of time to compose. Please let me know. Best wishes!

Maze 2:2:1 -- a reading

Book Two

Chapter 2

Part 1

And the paperback version of Maze has arrived!

 clocking in at 154 pages

available here...

Maze (paperback)

In the last episode 2:1:4 Ame returns to the former home of catholic charity (where Hendrix initially led her). She goes inside and sensing the presence of the thief who stole her bicycle, she awaits his arrival, then tracks him to his room above the mezzanine. 

Maze 2:1:4 -- a reading

Book Two

Chapter 1

Part 4

In part 3, Ame follows the lady she is tracking

out and up the hill on Vernon Street, and attacks

her to extract the tangy energetic. 

Maze 2:1:3 -- a reading

Leading up to this point in the story...

In Part 1 (Book 2, Chapter 1)
Ame is basking in the sun on the shores of Lake Merritt when her friend, the apparition named Hendrix, shows up. He is a bloodhound for 'the tangy energetic' (aka human fear). She follows him (with some difficulty). He takes her to a building on Harrison Street. She was here the day before, across the street, and had locked her bike to a street sign but now her bike is gone. She realizes it has been stolen.

In Part 2, Ame recounts the day before. She had 'the thirst' and tracked a lady into the Whole Foods who caught her attention.

Book Two

Chapter 1

Part 3

Maze 2:1:2 -- a reading

Book Two

Chapter 1

Part 2

In Part 1
Ame is basking in the sun on the shores of Lake Merritt when her friend, the apparition named Hendrix, shows up. He is a bloodhound for 'the tangy energetic' (aka human fear). She follows him (with some difficulty). He takes her to a building on Harrison Street. She was here the day before, across the street, and had locked her bike to a street sign but now her bike is gone. She realizes it has been stolen.

Maze 2:1:1 -- a reading

Hi, I am going to  read my book cover to cover, one installment at a time. 

This is the first reading...

Book Two

Chapter 1

Part 1

What am I reading?
The book I am reading is titled: Maze, and is the second in a series entitled: Daughter of Darkness.
Book One was titled: Grand Theft Life. These books are available for purchase on Amazon.com, and both were published in the year 2015.

sunday comes again

sunday comes again
in a cup of tea in a winter storm silently approaching

in red
in blue in white
world
at war

agents chew the thread
out like blistering metal music with teeth
and fuck up the spider web

how the world comes together
gathering all intel
2 penetrate islamic state

4 vengeance
4 the innocent dead
4 the bloodshed

sunday comes again
and i tell you it's out in the open

furious mad
it's terrible bad
gonna take lives 4 lives
without hesitation

refugee passports pulled
in the name of the innocent dead

hunting
for
the ones

i loved
you loved
we loved

sunday comes a deafening sound
 a bomb dropped off a drone
feeling kinda painful
alone

sunday comes again and god help us
raising our children
shelving our dreams

world peace is so much smaller than
this and some have gone away
never to return

sunday comes on fire
sunday comes with rain
sunday comes
sunday comes

again

this town

In this town unlike other towns all the people wanna get laid. All the people. In this town they all go to the library. It is a very small town, so the library is the only edifice and serves every function. But nobody gets married or divorced. The library has no books, only magazines. The magazines must all be obscene to stay in circulation. There are no pictures only words. There are no children in this town, and never were. Nobody leaves this town, by choice. This town has a finite beginning and a finite ending. It ends when the last of them is dead. This town is kept very clean, all the streets I mean. There are no dogs, and no cats. But plenty of platinum fish. Nobody does drugs. This town is very strange, unless you live there. There are no hospitals. If you get sick they will take care of you, and if they get sick you will take care of them. Intuitively. Nobody lies in this town. There is mayhem but only one night a week, after dinner, and if you want some you walk into the field of mayhem where everyone who wants mayhem, has it. The rest usually watch and cheer them on. People may get hurt or killed, but only by accident. At night everyone comes out to drumming, lights candles and stands silent in a circle. They listen to the wind. They see one another. Then they go to bed to a bugle playing taps. It's a really sacred moment, it really is. I made it up.

live long like gingerbread houses

I want to go into stores and have experiences. The people in these stores they are trained to talk to you a certain way. Make you feel special. What if I want to be treated like anyone treats anyone? Then the cashiers can ignore me when I'm trying to check out, make me go and self-check out. If I put something I decided I didn't want on the wrong shelf, someone might challenge me. Like I'm real again. I could see the workers unpacking the boxes and go and help them and feel good helping. Wow. I wanna go into stores and have experiences, real ones. I don't wanna exchange money for a receipt and a smile, how degrading! How about we start haggling and trading? I give you this old Madonna CD for that pumpkin pie? I don't want my experience to be limited to someone kissing my ass, then waiting like a fool for the chip reader to read my chip. Don't pull out yet. You have to wait. Sorry for the wait. Sign this, sign that. Do you have a rewards card? What kind of perks are in store for us? The ads and the phones are becoming smarter. I'm the customer. I'm always right. I'm never wrong. Gloss me over. Sugar coat me with Splenda. Pump me full of preservatives. Send me out with my gingerbread house. Then I really will feel special. I'll probably survive the new year, too.

Exeter NH

November came in with storms and I began to think of you again. I went out on the back porch with my coffee and the sun felt so good after the rain. The lemons turnin yellow on the lemon tree. Everything was gettin recycled even thoughts. I guess I could do somethin about us again, even if I hadn't seen you in ages. Did we have any kids together, and where are they? Probably without shoes somewhere cursin the memory. With hazelnut eyes and germanic steel wills. A century ago they'd be in Exeter, NH, underage workin in the mills. I would collect the pay and put it in a can. And hide it from the man. If we had any energy to spare, you would take me down the river aways and somewhere all alone, make love to me on a slab of granite stone.

I and my country, no longer depressed

What becomes of us. Pine Sol was applied and life began to smell chemically sound. All the memories of the unnaturally clean gave an egregious sparkle to my calm. Anxiety B. Gone. Outstandingly purified past a point of recognition, the chemicals ran into our pharmaceutical futures. Sometimes I put the coffeepot under the tap, if I was lazy or rushing to get to work. What a mistake! My thoughts went sideways and up was down. Only the headlights of the car could save me, pointing into the rain. I saw the materials filling in the light, each raindrop one hundred thousand part prozac. I and my country, no longer depressed.

The book description for Maze

In a modern day American city, there are those who track and hunt down humans for their fear. They are indiscernable from you and me. A young woman with attitude in her mid-twenties, Ame, has fallen in with them. Her abduction was foretold by the voices in her head. She has the same light in her eyes that marks them. In this sequel to Katya Mills' urban fantasy, Daughter of Darkness, Ame has fallen in love with a young man who shares the dark gift. He skateboards into her life and they roam the streets together. Conflicted by her own violent nature, she has become nevertheless intoxicated by the ways. She thirsts after 'the tangy energetic'. A death dealer of a different kind prowls around the boarding house where Ame and her boyfriend live. Meanwhile her best friend, Bless, vies for her attention. Hendrix, a bloodhound for tracking fear, inadvertently leads Ame to Kell, a kindred spirit in the grips of a terrible addiction. She takes her little sister with green eyes under her wing. Just as Ame seems to have found her rhythm in the chaos surrounds her, someone very close to her disappears. In her search she uncovers a secret, revealed on the tapes of a security camera, which threatens to uproot her, once again.

i finished my book!

On a dark and stormy morning (it really was!) I finished -- Maze. Around 6am, after another long night of editing, I had the puppy exactly how I wanted her. I went out for a drive in my Volkswagen in the rain, got on the highway,  listened to the radio and spaced out with my focus on the road. I didn't know where I would go. I decided to get off at El Camino Avenue. This road and I have some history. When I moved here to Sacramento less than 3 years ago with my head full of books but nothing yet published -- no job and no car and only one friend -- I used to ride my bicycle from the Extended Stay America (a decent hotel room with a kitchenette, at a fair price for a month) up north on El Camino several times a week. My friend lived about ten miles up the road. All I remember was the wonderful heat of the early summer, on the streets of Sacramento. I was real excited to be here and get my life going in a positive direction. Oakland tore me up and spit me out in twenty twelve. I had not much to my name. I was writing every day, and determined to start self-publishing my work. I thought for sure maybe someone would wanna read me. I had been writing all my life long. I stopped riding up El Camino at all. The friendship broke off, sadly, we went off in different directions. This morning in the rain and ready to press my third book in under 3 years, I was tired and overjoyed. All I had to do was go home, take a nap to rest my eyes, then get up and read through the puppy from beginning to end, one final time. And I did. And you know what? This book! I think this is easily the best work I have done in my life.

in better times

We all came together and sang songs terribly, and had a blast, smoking and drinking and singing awfully, i swear, the fingers fumbling around the keys, too, and everytime the foot dropped there was a pause for a breath and the snow was fallin heavy outside and icicles off the eaves, and we rolled up our sleeves the laughter was work and you could feel the stretch of your smile, and smoke was rushin up the flu and water rushin down the hill, not a goddam thing kept still and fuck it all, we sure were havin the best times of our lives and no one was gonna stop us

INTERVIEW (Wordpress)

THE BOOK: Girl Without Borders

PUBLISHED IN: 2013

THE AUTHOR: Katya Mills

THE EDITOR: Katya Mills

THE PUBLISHER: Amazon.com

SUMMARY: Chicago. West side. Follow the paths of three young lovers, at the turn of the millennium. Working-class punks and degenerate-labelled youth move across the urban landscape, effortlessly, at night. Suffering the depths to which culture has sunk. Looking for refuge. Fearless in love.

Will is a young man with a big heart and big dreams. Intelligent, sensitive and compassionate. Determined to make a life for himself in the city. Determined to learn the code of the streets. He falls for a girl, Bella, who has a punk attitude and style all her own. In no time, she steals his heart. There is another woman, Cass who has her heart set on Will. But the love is unrequited. LIfe gets complicated, as Will gets lost in love. Danger, drama, and emotional turmoil loom on the horizon.

Generation X. Raised on punk rock, hip-hop and celebrity worship. Raised on high fructose corn-syrups. Pop and pop culture detritus. Raised on flat land, with crazy straws. Wannabe rockstars and burnouts. Follow the tale of youth who live and love large, in the shadow of the generation before them. Praying not to be reduced to culture’s blind carbon copies. Where love becomes power… with tragic consequences.

THE BACK STORY: “I began this story when I was living in Chicago, the heart of the setting. I finished the book a decade later. Having an emotional connection to a place is the foundation off of which I like to build my fictions. I wrote the book mostly in coffeehouses in Bucktown and Wicker Park, and I swear I almost got my ass kicked for using a laptop in a café in some parts of the city back then, pre-millenium. This is my first publication, and a complete – DIY- labor of love. I did everything and designed the cover. (I still do everything on my books, I just don’t design my covers anymore). I put everything and my heart into this work.”

WHY THIS TITLE: I have a MA in Psychology. I chose this title in consideration of BPD: borderline personality disorder. One of the main characters clearly suffers from this condition (and those around her suffer from her suffering from it, too). Just so you know, I do not preach psychology or discuss diagnoses within the text, it’s just a feeling you get by the characterization.

WHY SOMEONE WOULD WANT TO READ IT: The book is character-driven and told from the perspective of a young man who is struggling to makes sense of his life, not always thrilled to be caught between two or more women, somewhat aimless and reckless and pretty honest about it all. You might want to read it if there was a time in your life where you were fighting the tendency toward becoming jaded and/or numb. I cannot doll it up. If that sounds interesting to you, check it out. I do think my writing style is pretty original, but not everyone and their mother is into it, so be sure and read the sample.

Link to this interview: Interview

Link to this novel: GWB

get me some coffee

The weather broke. I mean the summer shattered. I put on a layer of clothes over a layer of clothes, over a layer of clothes. The computers were all working on becoming human and devouring the electricity, while the humans were eating power bars and saying nothing is real. An X Box had crossed it all out. My coffee turned to tea. The lake escaped into the sea. You were scared for your life, trying not to be found; they wouldn't let you remain unemployed for long. I had been dead broke since back then when everything got real. Even nothing. I toldya what. You perked up. Find me a cup of coffee and I will hire your sorry ass, myself.

Journal # 11.07.15

I am living between holidays, between pages, between headaches from a screen, between meals, between distances. And probably between relationships, if I ever date again. I'm not sure why I would, though, I guess I used to enjoy suffering with short bursts of pure love. I miss my landlady from Oakland, she lives in Napa Valley now. She always did enjoy wine. I used to be able to wake up and splash cold water on my face and feel okay. That was so long ago I'm surprised I still recall it. Now I'm much happier, but I rarely feel okay, does it make sense?

so there

The sun is comin
 up early so
I can see what you
 are doin. do not think
i cannot

my eyes cannot see
you in the dark even
after they adjust
so

You tried to hide
so the sun came
up sooner. than you
thought

The light came
 into the sky like so. so
there was nowhere to hide

you're lucky so
lucky I don't really
care so

I'm gonna wink and
drop back. into my
 hole. No one will
 ever have to
 know

The teapot begins
to whistle. let's sing
along. the tune. I
don't really care so
there

life left us for walking

You were walking out with your keys to your car, and all the person you thought you would be and are. Anyone could see. You might just need to give up on those thoughts, look up and see what's left for you. I know I don't usually have the energy anymore, but when I do...  I wonder where you went, when you go. Please, go easy on yourself. I have a secret I think you oughta know, sometimes I follow you in the snow. Life left us for walking, disappearing into forest. See, that's a mighty gift. Please, go easy on your heart; are you taking all your meds? I made a medicine cabinet, to keep mine all together. I got the goddam flu shot, I know I'm getting old. I wonder what life has in store for us, when tomorrow comes. Then I grab a book to stop the wondering.

ghost trains revisited.again

We were young and sought our pleasure in the world, for a measure of happiness. Maybe for a moment the chase could end. Up all night laughing. I held you like I meant it, really tight but not too hard. You were so gentle with me when you were happy. Walking the streets at 3am. The ghost trains passed by and we readied ourselves and jumped, leaping for the handrails. The world went from absolute stillness to perpetual motion. The rails went West to outline the Pacific Ocean. The sea salt filled our lungs. We sought our shadows on the trains... then came the rains.

roses

I will bring some classical music to the backyard. There are roses bold enough to cross the chain link where the grass meets the alleyway, and yes, I have seen them stop there, stumbling drunk down the alleys in the middle of the night, clothes torn, not knowin where they're going. The aimless ones are beautiful to me. They have the courage to live today without any direction, the courage to go wherever the streets and alleyways take them. The roses are bold and red. Dark like blood. They cross the chain link and into danger. They are beautiful to me. The sun pulled them out and into themselves, the sun moved them, the aimless ones... the roses.

Blue Dreams

Here I was born in the USA and sandwiched between my two brothers, and I got the blues and they got the pinks and the kitchen sinks and the water was still good around here, maybe a little hard, and mom would boil it just to be sure. We were loved, that’s for sure. Dad had hurt his back carrying us around when we were little, and by the time he reached forty he began to really feel it. See what loving does? After all the medical leave dried up he had to go on disability. Life would get harder day by day. Dad was cross easy and all the time, and spent long days lying on his back in bed, in pain. Mom moved the television in there, and I sure didn’t miss it. We all chipped in to do the things Dad could no longer do, and we would have to do it well cause Mom was hard to please. We lived in a big old house probably wasn’t gonna survive the next hurricane. Everytime I saw one of those puppies swirling on the news, off the coast of Florida and comin our way, I got scared. My little brother he wanted to see it happen, he liked to see things destroyed. Big brother was the opposite. If it happened, if the swirling beauty bounced on up the eastern seaboard and reached us with still gale force winds drawing energy off the Atlantic shelf; if we got slammed, well, he would be the first one to begin rebuilding, after he made sure we were all okay.


Excerpt from BLUE DREAMS

my nanowrimo novel. 2015

time slapped me an hour

Halloween was over and I was feelin pretty dismal, cause I had gone to the store yesterday and bought ten whole candy bars which i put in the freezer for the kids or myself, depending on if i got any trick or treaters, and it was over and ten candy bars were still in my freezer. The funny thing is, some kids had come banging on up the stairs and knocking on my door. Sounded like a whole busload of them. But the timing was simply atrocious. I mean, I had woken up a half hour earlier from a nap, and it takes me at least forty-five minutes to really be awake, my meds have to kick in and all that, and for sure I'm not ready for visitors. 

Not only that, I had thrown a few egg rolls and a medley of frozen vegetables into the oven and was sitting down to dinner. Not only that, but the world series was on the radio and I was actually captivated, it was the bottom or top of the ninth inning, a couple of young studs on base, the closer on the mound, and electricity in the air or was that just static. Whatever the case, I had no mind to go answering the door for an entire schoolyard full of kids. All I had was ten bars, anyway. They were liable to ransack my place for more. Kids today do stuff like that. They're exposed to all that stuff on the internet, blogs and stuff; they're like little hardened pre-criminals just waiting for the crime!

My friend Rick told me there's fight and there's flight but they always leave out the other one, freeze. Well that's what I did. I froze like candy bars. It was hopeless. I would have to work up a smile, and that alone would take minutes. So I missed it. Halloween passed me by. Again. Last year I didn't get any kids (and thank god cause i didn't have any candy), and this year I did, but I blew it. I really blew it.

Long after the kids left empty-handed, I felt so bad I went out to the street to see if I could fish any stragglers off the sidewalk, lure them to my place so I could give out a candy bar. But they were all gone, why? I went inside and looked at the clock. It was 4am. No wonder. Halloween was over. I was feelin' pretty dismal, and went to the freezer for a candy bar. The chocolate started to cheer me up a little, and then some guy on the radio was kind enough to remind me to set my clock back. Wow! Time just slapped me an hour. The day after Halloween already was shaping up pretty well. Old man time must have felt bad for someone like me. There's tons of stuff you can do in an hour. Hell, I just wrote you a letter and I still have a boatload of minutes to play with.

Passages 2:3

"I hung some fabric I found over the doorway to create some privacy (having put the door aside), found a blanket which was clean and lay it over the mattress, then lifted her up under her arms so that her weight was evenly over my shoulder and staggered over to the mattress where I fell to my knees to lay her gently upon it. She was saying something softly, I know not what. She must be cold, I thought, so I took a wool coat I found in the piles and draped it over her. She turned sideways and rested her head on her hands. I lay down beside her and fell quickly to sleep."


Excerpt from Maze
Book 2, Chapter 3


NOTE: In this scene, Ame, the protagonist, has just met Kell in a former home of catholic charity. Kell is living there in squalor. Ame and Kell are connected by blood. When she finds her sister there, she comforts her.

Passages 2:10

"They were always in debt no matter how long or hard their father worked in the factory, for he did not know how to manage money; he acquired several credit cards which he maxed out at high interest rates; the reps in the malls at the little tables with pamphlets and applications kept convincing him it was a good idea to sign up for cards. He (Maze’s father) felt like a man with all of the plastic he kept in his rawhide wallet, but soon the wallet became a reminder of all the money he owed and could not pay off, and he put it in the drawer of his bedside table and cursed Discover. In his prayers, he forgave American Express and Mastercard every night before passing out, for ruining his chance to buy the Mustang on the lot and forcing him to walk to work in the waterlogged boots he could not afford to replace, and every day American Express and Mastercard refused to forgive him back. And when his wife left him with his son, Maze, he prayed to the credit card gods she die a terrible death."

Excerpt from Maze 

Book 2, Chapter X

NOTE: This passage was clipped from a description of Maze's family of origin. His father is human and an alcoholic. His mother took him to LA and they got away from the abusive situation.

how to be alone

I would be happy to live out my days as a recluse. I think it would be pretty fun. I could do all sorts of scientific experiments. Study up on Thoreau. I'm only gonna have one food group a day. I will start with starches, mashed potatoes, and then move to tomatoes, and if there are leftover tomatoes I will find a skunk and spray another animal so I can use them for a tomato bath. Then they will owe me a wonderful debt of gratitude. The animals will become my little helpers. If there are leftover potatoes I will post them for a lookout, take advantage of all those eyes. I hate how they look at me before I beat them with the masher. When I am filled with guilt I can sit by the stagnant pond and write a treatise on human nature. Find a swell theory to overcome my remorse. You are not what you do, your actions do not define you. Oh! If I can realize one of my shelved dreams and colonize the famous lac bug, I will study and write a book about proper usage of shellaq for dyeing winter wools for sweaters. I will call it Shellacrilage. Hopefully my animals will be agreeable to lending their winter coats for testing dyes, though it might confuse the foxes when the badgers all turn red.

you, me and the blinking ghosts

Ya you got lost like I did    And came around eventually     Getting lost was part of life     Part of the deal     Finding your way was so surreal     Now you're not who you were     Are you sure?

I will bet you a dollar you can make it from here to there
But I cannot make it I don't think I can
I'll bet you a buck you can

I was just as likely to devour the blinking ghosts before they turned solid and came after me. I really didn't want to eat them at all, but if you don't eat them I'm told they will wind you like a clock then disappear you. I'm not ready to disappear! Not at all.

You can come out of hiding
Really  Show up if you can
We've all been dying to meet you
Dying

All we were was lost
Not faded. Something out there polished us
Now we are shiny and smooth
Not a statistic
More realistic

monologue of a cat lady lost her mind in twenty ten

NAILS PAINTED BLUE



FAITH is all i have after all i have was my heart now falling out like the rest of everything i ever knew, well worn. faith featured prominently like a celebrity, LESS the paparazzi the stalkers the money being chased around....LESS the icon devotees, the groupies, leeches, attorneys, public relation characters, travel agents, lifecoaches... LESS nights smiling and getting progressively wasted on champagne, cosmos and weed at the pre and after parties, LESS socializing to point of discomfort, exposure, sunburn, hangover, and LESS dreary lost weekends watching projected television on one wall, feeling flat as the flatscreen... LESS mindful of the discomfort inside, mirror to the discomfort outside, kin to the discomfort of solitude. MORE wondering why.


LOVE was all the RAGE and you know the images of love? So very embraced here where i live, planet earth i mean, images watched without censor, images of love! the smiles, the gestures of invitation, the hugging and kissing the loving oh my god! oh my god! - timeout! adrenaline RUSH! Oxytocin tsunami and believe me some welcoming party, a nation of hundreds of thousands of Arabs, Indians, Islanders, Egyptians, Greek, English, Spanish, and Croatian.


All of them excepting a few of them, most of them addicted to images like us, images of love, enough said! the SPACES in between more noticeable more glaring more frightening more indicative of ABSENCE, sister of SOLITUDE, daughters of MISERY, related however intrinsically to the good-natured cousin EMPTINESS -- the smiling buddha of spaces, the proclaimer of all things inverted. In discordance from the 5 or more senses the sentients carried and utilized on a continuum directly mathematically correlated to their ability to see what was really going on here. Para dice had been rolled. Para dime took his place. But of course their was a SHIFT. Energy to the left. Consciousness to the right. Revolution across the Arabian sea of peoples in cities with fervor fighting the once accepted now scorned leaders cemented for 3 to 4 decades in place. Intractable. Embedded. Atom Feed = FED. On Planet EARTH again, the masses were FED up. Pretty cool, awfully tasty, is it not? Antigravity chambermaid serving astronaut ice cream to the men and women needing no sustenance, other than the passion described by their countenance.


STILL -- all that changed so, also remained unchanged. The smiling buddha offering up emptiness continued to be frowned upon, not even half-smiles could be drawn out of them! Meanwhile back in the places inbetween... scattered showers. (at best). getting bad forecasts by the meteorologists. here. On planet Earth. How we digest these, the images of love! getting wet, better yet, soaked, deluged, goodbye they waved to the empty rural devalued stains that separated these ones, these ones addicted to the images of love...always seeking, always stubborn, always taking, excepting a few.


Most TAKING, some GIVING, some small percentage would not catch attention of those paying most attention to the good/bad better/worse, petty kinda necessary kinda labeling as librarians label books-- that is, with the best of INTENTION and certainly not to disown any novel of its SELF, just to find a place for it to sit somewhere in the grand halls of the reading rooms of New York City Public Library, the Harold Washington in Chicago, through the many colors of Stained Glass in Ivy League and Big Ten Reading Rooms, Masonic lodge lounging, Alumnus arrives by bus...Okay. All of this measures up -- to the thrill of us.

All this steering around navigating sentient life, like a ride through virgin snow over familiar territory now mad crackling black ice. Unknown! untravelled! and witnessed by fresh eyes diving to sudden flashes of well worn land, to shelter or cushion imevitable crashes. Leaning one way, leaning the other. Looking for balance. Brother, brother! where have you gone? I meant to see you so long ago so long, it has me weary all this time between us. All the ashes, all the dust, tell me do you know? What line was drawn so heavily permanent? Marked so decisively in the middle of CONFUSION, the heart of CHOICE? the son of FREEDOM.


What will they say when they map out our history? All of this PAIN all of this LOSS for you for me, for us, I see. I feel it deep down in my bones. The pain now inked across my arm. I moan at night in half conscious memories, how we got along then you, and me. The reality has now become dream. The dream, reality. Is this what we fought for? what we learned? how we survive today? Do we really source from what they call LOVE once we see it? Or do we turn away to be truly marked and known by the source of all great and relative SADNESS? The broth the reservoir they all call SOLACE? Daughter of REGRET?


FAITH is all i have, better yet -- after all i have my heart now falling out like the rest of everything i ever knew, well worn! FORLORN. I got to fake the faith I confess! I feature her prominently like a heroine. But here. on this nonpaper. I also turn. On planet earth. With the revolutions of her. Feet in the earth, in the garden, you know the one. And inspired by the Palestinians, the Egyptians, The Libyans, the Somalis, the peoples of Yemen, the Iranians, inspired so so so so....


I can LESS the bullshit, ya know. Minus it. Balance out and outbalance the deficits, the liabilities of life here. On planet earth. Feet in the soil. All i once learned on the recoil. Feeling it now? MORE wondering why and living the wonderful tragedy OUT.... to the shook OUT of the unbuttoned cuffs, OUT the arteries blue like my nails but less prominently so. OUT to branching out of fingers five on either side, and disciplined focus dispels the energy , the love thats all the rage, the rage that rages on! OUT the echoing off the lips of the song. My nails painted blue painted blue, my nails true. True BLUE. Blue i notice and must study in the cafes and bookstores, the reading rooms, libraries, cathedrals! OUT looking down as though reading words, yet, studying the karmic law i know is true, true as the sky, true as my nails...


As my nails painted blue.

milky ways last forever

Here comes the full moon. Our street probably won't get any kids on Halloween, we never do. There's only one side of the street with houses, the other side is a park and a school. It's a raw deal to walk down a street with only half as many houses as the other streets, you're liable to get only half as many treats. I don't blame them at all, hell, if I was a kid I would avoid our street like the plague. Most of the kids around here, the ones who really know what's going on, go up to the Fabulous 40s on Halloween. The people live up there are all politicians, doctors and lawyers, CEOs and stuff. I mean money. They probably drop a K on Halloween decorations like it's nothing. Gimme that giant spider there. That drone, I want that witch ona drone. Can you gimme all the mummies you got in the back, please? They need a goddam assistant to open the warehouse doors in the back by the alley, just to unload all that crap into the SUV. Mummies coming out the sunroof! Amazing. Will you take a personal check? They probably have stamps for signatures they write so many checks up there in the fab forties. Ya, if I was a kid I would hit that for sure. Bring a Macy's bag or something, cause they're liable to drop the kitchen sink. Don't bother coming around my block. My neighbor says he still has candy from last year he's planning to use, just in case anyone shows. Maybe two years old now, he can't remember. Snickers bars don't go bad, anyway, all those damn preservatives. Milky ways last forever.

conditions on earth

On the one extreme there were those who were dangerous and knew they were dangerous, just like in the wild, and embraced it, and even decided that society and law ought to have its face put in the dirt and extinguished, and so went beyond what was natural (hunting for survival) and went on a violent tear for assertion. On the other extreme were those who championed law to such an extent they would turn on their own family if the law demanded they do so, even if law was corrupt and nonsense. They believed in safety to a point where no one was any longer safe. In the middle somewhere was you and me, trying to keep a grip, hoping to survive, and letting our intuition guide us especially in places and times where reason alone did not suffice, when everyone seemed discouraged, and it could be said by measure of population on planet earth, we have outdone ourselves for sure.

saturday. am

The carpets were thick and we moved quietly about the house. We met in the middle and held hands. The cartoons were moving pictures around the screen, blacks and oranges and purples, a latchkey kid lost in visions. Church was all tomorrows and the grasses were not so uniform if you were hiding in them looking. The flapjacks were thick and we moved quietly about house. We met in the middle and wiggled our toes. The leaves on the trees were patching final shadows before they fell, which was sad if you thought about it, but if you focused on the colors it was gorgeous. The walls broke out in patchy spots and we moved quietly about. I did not have to dream about you when you were real.

M. of the intergalactic planetary alliance

Oh hastening retrograde, dear Mercury!... Shout out to you who placed yourself in harms way of suns ray, so as to protect our dearest milky blue baby earth from the diabolical burn of our dying star... alas the 100,000 spf ring oozed in orbit by atlantis was only the thinnest layer of banana boat generic and apocryphal in its promises! Oh mercury, you selfless spinning wonder! You and your secret services catching the bullets the solar flares, sacrificing your lifeless little self. If we may pay infinitisemal acknowledgment to your heroism, may we tribute you in full view of the planetary alliance eye (in lieu of the usual vacuous ingratitude under the oft overworshipped darkside of the sun).  xxx  K.

illuminated (by a screen)

Anything I do not have and want is not gonna change how I am or how I feel about myself when I am alone, is it true? I would ask the internet but the internet may not be my friend. If the ghost comes to walk me through my past many years from now, when I am an old lady staring at the sun through my stigmatism,  enjoy the walk and be bored to death by the hours upon hours regarding the young lady in her apartment typing away at the computer, i mean, the ghost will drift away (hoping I won't notice) to someone else's brilliant past I am sure. Oh well. I am illuminated by my goddam screen. So what. I don't and won't have kids. So what. I stopped doing half the things I loved to do. So what. I'm a gen X internet baby. So what. Anything you do not have and want is not gonna change how you are or how you feel about yourself when you are alone. So there!  xxxx  - K

Passages 2:9

"Life with Maze was magic when we were on. Not often were we on the same page or in the same mood, but when our energy synched you better watch out, we would rip a hole in the sky and dive into it; refrigerators got hot and shuddered and the elements burnt out; radios picked up our signal, clocks ran the other way. We determined time and not the other way around, the contrast favorable like primary colors overlapping; the sunlight in the room left marks, the wooden furniture gave sap. Any cotton on me did not stand a chance."     - Maze 2:9

may the force be with you!

katya selfie star wars

katya 

selfie star wars k

k by k self

star wars katya

katya by katya

star wars k by k

k by k selfie starwars

k by k starwars

starwars selfie

character sketches (writing process)

the personality how do we bring fullness to the personality in words. words are limiting but not as limiting as one might think. anyone who is well read would know that. maybe we limit ourselves by thinking about how limited we are. the personality. unearthing character traits of course, disposition, moodiness, relation to self and society. then of course the motivations, what gets the character out of bed in the morning (presuming they get out of bed at all, in some famous works, characters hardly ever get out of bed). personality will be more than all that, there are other elements. how does a character walk and talk, how do they think? do they touch upon repetitive thoughts and actions? well, everyone does. rituals. what about nature and nurture? are they defined by a microcosm? trapped there? how does the macrocosm feel about all that. freedom, mobility, immobility, inaction. mental health or illness. where's the spirit in all of that. oh! words are great for that, capturing spirit over time. meaning pages. you can paint a spirit over the course of a novella or novel for sure. or even in a poem if you're really good.

you were the one all alone

The skies were always one way or another, laughing or crying back then. The horizons were wide and unflawed, or you couldn't see them at all. You traveled another highway, singing to yourself. The sea was waiting for you, carbonated foam rolling up and reaching out for anyone and you. You would walk in and never be seen again. But not today. Not today. The kids smiled when they saw you, immortal in your pain, you smiled, too, for you both knew forever, in a day the way you walked, your hands half in your pockets caught on the loops. The little hands they wouldn't ever let go.  But not today. Not today. You were the one all alone.

ORION

Orion and I was tryin to love you but it was hard. We cannot always be sure of ourselves in every way, and when I broke out (in anger) the words hurling and curling their way lugubrious in the chill of autumn air,  and you there; I seemed unable to stop myself so righteous and defiant for a five minute drive home from dinner.  God it was the worst of me. Of course I took to rest by the sounds of postseason baseball curious to the darker mood. I wanted the electricity back. But we all sometimes short circuit. I woke with an apology on my lips and typed it into a text. You were calling, calling me, but in these early hours of the morning on my free days the only one i talk to is in my slippers out on the back porch with the long hooded sweater woven black and white around me staring up to the heavens missing the moon, I mean Orion.

GO north and run away from everything
Live off of lizards tails and country music
Sit in a mobile home with no heat
Half-freeze to death
Awaken with a shiver


Come south for your life in the sun
Refuse to grow up
Grow down. Find your roots

I think they are
over there

Date someone you met at Starbux
Who got the same drink as you

Cause you have one thing
in common

super plain adults

I was explaining something to you and the wheels were turning but pretty slow like bicycles. Your dog began to bark at me and I got quiet. Can you throw him a tennis ball or something? The circus was in town and let's hope they tightened the bolts on the tea cups. I went to the kitchen and got the coffeepot and it was half full. I brought it to you and filled your mug and then mine. Sugar? You shook your head, you wanted milk. The moon was cut in half and the planets glittering and outshining stars. Orion was stretching out like a superhero. We could hear through the walls of the garage, your kids on guitars. Remember when we were kids? and super kids we were, really, babysitting for a dime. Three or four brats at a time. They came home late late late nights. Woke you up with a smile to go home with a yawn. Alcohol on their breath. That was so long ago it feels like a past life. You wannanother coffee? God it's late why the hell are we drinking coffee? But it's okay. We are super plain adults. We can do whatever the hell we wanna do.

excavating manhattan in the year 2030

All the civilizations and past lives are buried beneath us because they did not hire enough people to keep sweeping. Had they hired enough sweepers, we would have all the treasures of the past among us. We have the street sweepers now, machines, but they go about sweeping the roads which have paved over the past. Shouldn't we all be digging down into our gardens, down into the deep to unearth all the treasures? We all know how. One of the first things they gave us was a bucket and a shovel and a sandbox and naturally we began digging. In two hundred years all our treasures will be buried with us, and the future will be walking on our graves! Sure, some of the treasures will be exhumed and put on display. But what about your heirlooms? What about your creations? Like rings of a tree, the superficial layers of the earth if taken out by cross-section will tell of our lives and our tragedies. In New York City, in the year 2310, someone will excavate Manhattan and find that one thin ring of chalkdust from nine eleven and put the pieces together again so nothing will be lost on the timeline. On either side of that ring will be the slick almost watery syrup of the life and times of the most powerful nation on earth. I'm sure my grandmother's ballet slippers will be in there. And not far from that, ashes from my grandfather's cuban cigar. There will be reams of paper mulch on one side, and the other will be tested for trace amounts of silicon and plastic. The movement from the daily morning predawn paper delivery boy to the bloggers and vloggers logging onto their apples. The countryside will have imperceptible layers of poisons in the corn, and fluoride and pharmaceuticals will test positive all over the cities for sure. They will have to really work to determine why we brushed our teeth so rigorously back then. I mean now.

you could believe in drugs

You could believe in drugs you could. You would want to have them always around and rely on them to get you out of a jam, rely on them to help you produce, rely on them for energy, rely on them for creativity, rely on them for calm. You could believe in drugs and demand they make you feel better when you are in pain or feel differently when you are sad, differently when you are upset. You could put faith into drugs. Or you could try and believe in yourself.

me and my pumpkin

I ate a pumpkin seed whole without chewing and a pumpkin grew off of the vine that pushed out of my navel. I was very surprised but not shocked because of the season. The pumpkin turned orange and I had to drink a ton of water to get it that color. I really felt dehydrated and drained but my pumpkin looked grand so I felt better though I looked terrible. The people who used to be my friends wouldn't talk to me no more or go to the clubs with me looking like that, dragging my pumpkin behind me. Cars got really angry, well their drivers did, they made their cars honk at me and my pumpkin crossing the streets. We were in the crosswalk, okay, so exercise a little patience, people. Only the children seemed to really like me anymore, and they followed me and kicked it with my pumpkin. After Halloween my pumpkin and I sat sorrowful at the dinner table, as I prayed for guidance. My pumpkin spoke to me through the vine, I swear, it told me it was okay. I know you think I'm crazy but you all stopped coming by anyway, so what would I care what you thought anymore? And don't even try. When the kids circle round, we will celebrate the season and eat pumpkin pie. You won't be invited and that's why.