Saturday, 19 August 2017

type.writer (archive #K) -iv

we drank coffee and squeezed oranges
in the morning. canadien whisky
at night with milk. smoking
4 finger lids

the letter c
started to stick
i had to find oil
and take arms
she was essential
to my vocabulary

tuning our guitars together
swimming out past the
sandbar to the lone buoy
the hammerheads liked to
circle

type.writer (archive #K) -iii

the bluefish dissolved when
the devil rays flew in
and the sea disseminated
into sky

a line no
longer

what a solution
now nothing would never
make sense

type.writer (archive #K) -ii

We rented a small house on the Gulf of Mexico
for 800 bucks a month
me and my friend
we got lucky

I must have typed 500 pages that year
on my little drab postbellum s.corona
to the rhythms of tide
and jazz...

type.writer (archive #K) -i

1997
I had a Smith Corona postbellum typewriter
the war was for the world
so very wide
no.2 and sharp as a pencil

The body of the typewriter was a solid drab green
like a soldier

Millions were filled with lead

Thursday, 17 August 2017

how sorry you are

the rain fell ona slant and i imagined they were all my tears i could not bear to cry. i raised my face to the wind and felt the sheets strike my skin. i stayed outside all morning long with you, reading the paper. we drank coffee without any intention other than to be helpful. lord knows we had once been thoughtless and unkind. you make mistakes. you demand more of people, places and things than you ask of yourselves. now i wanna grab hold and empty life of all its discontents. someone expects an apology outta you, and hunts you down. they may never know how sorry you are. the remainder of life, pushing and pulling those notifications, needled with predicate .coms and .orgs. comradery relocated to social media. if we subscribed it would be too soon... gimme the shelter of the rising sun, full moon. all these things we hope to have eternal, here and gone, then come again... to the faithful, pulled and pushed in the tug-of-war of a life. how sorry you are proclaimed deep space, to the star.

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

mid august melody

you were space
you were operatic

i was listening
but could not hear

like a potted plant i
needed time to take on
water. once i drank
i was full

i need to paint my nails
a soft shell blue
to remember me
with you

you are angry
i am yelling
you are pacing
i am telling myself
not to cry

i believe i'm gonna
sound the pitch of railroad tie
a'buried in the ground

locked in there. to stabilize
a nation. split in two

i am crying the earth away
so i can see you
again. next to me
saying your sorries

they mean nothing
they mean nothing

i am space
washing saucers
operatic

you are history
you are gone

i am thinking of you
i am typing

you are reading
i am writing we are
dreaming we are
one

summer's gone
and come

you are dreaming
i am typing we are
reading in the
sun

patterns

all life. nothing escapes the pattern.
patterns by k

Friday, 11 August 2017

belly full of life

dear magpie. you told me of the seals and why they come up river all the many miles to Sacramento from the San Francisco Bay sometimes, to feed on spawning salmon in the autumn. i ask you: the spawning fish are dying, are they not? coming up river and back home to die where they were born?

yes, you said.
then why? dear magpie, why not let the salmon swim home and die in peace?

the seals, they are not interested in the carcass of a dying fish. what they do as they swim upstream, diving underwater for several meters at a time, dark and slick, wet coats shining in the sunlight; what they do is find the belly full of life, and sink the teeth in there.

midtown patterns by k

three books. audiovisual

Good news! All three of my published books are now available on my youtube channel -- Katya Mills -- in audiovisual format. You can watch or listen to me reading them as sequential playlists in 5 minute increments. If you enjoy my work, you can find them all in paperback and ebook formats on amazon.com and other e-booksellers. I am an independent author with profiles on both Amazon and Goodreads, and a Facebook page. Thank you for your support!

Grand Theft Life
Maze
Girl Without Borders

indie author katya mills 2017

Thursday, 10 August 2017

magpie valley summer

i bent down by the river and cupped water to cool my face and hair. the summer was hot as ever and not letting up. you flew down and hopped over to me, where i could admire you in the half-light. little magpie of the valley, what have you seen and where have you been? your tail feathers long and dark, of blue and purple hue, your legs like twigs and feet splayed. cocking your head to one side so i can meet your parrot eye. what can i do for you, brave bird? 

you told me of the coyotes and their dens above the levee, and how they walk the rails to get from town to town. you told me of the river and how it made its way. you told me of your kind, long gone from here...and yet, you stay? there is an old man comes from the city to see you, he cracks a beer and lies down with a jacket rolled up under his head. you look after him. he speaks to you in a calm and gentle tone. you climb upon his shoulder where he takes selfies with you. then feeds you shavings of turkey and ham...dear magpie, i am hot and tired and wish to rest for a while. what more do you know? would you share with the likes of me? 

death by MVA

There must have been 4 tons of car coming at you with a green light letting us through. Me in my Volkswagen, an old man in a Chevy, and a lady sliding off the highway in a Subaru. The time was 2pm, the city drenched by waves of heat. I saw you riding your bicycle slowly into the intersection ahead, and wondered would you stop? You kept pedaling with an icy stare into us, 3 lanes of traffic against your perpendicular. I'm not sure if you wanted to die, but you sure knew what you were doing. The physics, the mathematics of the equation, did not at all look promising yet you kept a steady pace, a mane of black hair falling behind your tan face. You looked maybe Latin or Native American, and ready to die by MVA. Why? Did you lose someone close to you? Were you socioeconomically starved? We all pressed into our brake pads, and the old man in the middle lane lay on his horn.

We were long gone when I wondered; were you laughing in the aftermath of an adrenaline rush? Or were you disappointed? Or had you gone on to Broadway, indifferent to us all, searching for cool water, a smoke, friends, and some shade.

the open sea

Underneath the surface all is well. Don't let life get you down. Don't listen to all those people who are waiting to be discredited before they will finally open their eyes. Beneath the surface all is well. The waves are only growing larger and more threatening where the sea meets the sky. You may be up there in your sailboat trying to stay alive. All the worries and troubles of your life making you feel them so. All the people demanding you understand. Underneath it all, nothing has ever changed. All was always well deep in your heart and you know you can go there. Have faith over fear. Go there now and be the calm that always was, and let them believe in you like you believe in your god and yourself.

Wednesday, 9 August 2017

lbd. saturdays

when sundays became mondays the world almost died of a heart attack. thank goodness our hair and air were fully conditioned. i wanted to stretch saturday and shake it out, but it was rigid as glass. by wednesday we were a distant memory with no return in sight. i would have to sweeten you up with something to get close again. how about a stringy lbd in an underachieving post? must i sing a song?


Wednesday, 2 August 2017

we watched westerns

people struggling
people gettin' angry gettin' loud
everything burnin' in the sun spell
people in the city park
wading into the fountains
oblivious

people gettin' high
people gettin' drunk
staring at the sky
hittin' a goldmine
hittin' a vein
barely gettin' by

people bein' offensive
mistakin' themselves 4 radicals
people bein' abusive
mistakin' themselves
for anarchists

everyone wants a headline
even a recluse

sometimes
late at night
other times
middle of the day

sometimes
bottom of the first
tagged by heat
hash brown
eyeballs yellow

ready to steal
flagged
indiscreet

sunny side staring
up from the
plate

after a spell
feelin' so done with it all
we watched
westerns

Monday, 31 July 2017

another loss - fin

in your early thirties and too young, you left behind a family and so many friends. you were reckless, we all were, yet you were good for your word, and six years ago you saw and spoke of a future for yourself, creative. i dream that it manifests on some non-material plane. it does not matter how we left one another the day after the last time i saw you, on disconnected and fractured terms, for the six foot tall skinny boy i knew, whose face i saw behind glasses sometimes at the corner of 28th and telegraph, any day any season, always had a hug and wide devious smile for me, and some stories to share. and i know, had we come across one another since, it wouldn't have been any different.

i remember us in the late afternoon sun. we had met our mutual friends on 28th by the laundromat and kicked it on the street that day, fixing bikes and listening to music. i had a brief shout-it-out with my ex-boyfriend of the hour,  nothing unusual about that. everyone knows i've been breaking up since sixth grade. by the time the sun began to edge out and the sky turning colors, I had to go and you were already gone. You had told me not to worry, you would come by the next day to pick up your bike.

the following morning I was still crashed out and making up sleep from several days end-to-end insomnia and stress of the move. when you came i missed you, and several calls you made. the messages you left were far from friendly. you thought i had made off with your bike, when it was just sitting in the backyard waiting for you. i couldn't get ahold of you after that, your phone had died and you hadn't paid the bill. i was good for my word, just like you. i kept your bike for you, for weeks.

I will always remember you well, and so sad for your child and your family and friends. it's really tragic we never got to see you shine. i wish you the best on the nonmaterial plane and hope to see you and embrace you, in the next. see that tall boy with the bowler hat and the wide and devious smile. kick back like we did, trading EDM tracks and war stories. how does that sound? sweet dreams, my friend, you are loved.

in memoriam -- JR Lindberg

KatYa

another loss - vii

it's been over five years since I saw you, my friend, and I heard that you died this july. i don't know if you ever really got clean, but i heard that you tried and that's more than we could of said about us back then, when we were full tilt, chaotic. the new life in me cries for you, my friend, the old embers in my eyes glow in remembrance, i mean, i have forged a path in recovery and life has new wonders to share. i only wish you could have made it through, too. i relocated north of there, not long after the night we shared with music and laughter and our common bond. the signs had accumulated for some time, flashes of gunfire and madness and theft, and the trails and traces of my chemical romance had ended in black smoke signals, severely. my angels were there looking out for me, they saw me into my despairing, then gave me a chance and reason to change, and i implored God and let go and reached out and took up a new and renewable source, and brandished my pen once again. each and every day i can thank my loves for letting me live, and i wonder where were yours, where were yours? your star would have risen and lit up a world, and your daughter would have felt loved once again, and for her and for you and the world i am sad...

another loss - vi

faith is porous on the streets. you only have what you see, and anyone wants you to believe there's somethin more for you, if only you trust them for a moment. you gotta keep your faith deep in your heart, and not extend it to those who would use you... i tried explainin' to you about your bike, and how i needed to switch it out for mine, and could get it back to you tomorrow if that was okay. but you lost some confidence in me and could i blame you? we did not run in the same circles anymore. we argued for a while. i implored you the bmx was safe inside my new digs on Magnolia. i offered you collateral if you wanted, i would leave my rings with you. if you wanted we could go and get it later. you thought about it and either you extended some faith in me or else you didn't wanna argue anymore, and let it lie. i helped you pack your stuff and clean your place so you could get your deposit back, and you let me shower there before checking out, because where i was going, well, they might have had the law behind them and plenty of cash, but these corrupt attorneys letting me a room, well, they coulda been arrested for uncleanliness...

another loss - v

the sun was edging into view and we were beginning to wake up to the reality of the world and our meagre places in it, the year twenty ten and family nowhere to be found, nobody's fault but yours, nobody's fault but mine. i was on the move again and it was your last night staying there, too. i began helping you pick up your place, between runs i made to Magnolia with my own belongings. check out time was noon and the landlords were no nonsense; there was a security detail they would call to kick people out. you see, something you understood about me and i related back to you was, on any given day, having no place to call home. all we had was our friends and our music and our journals, back then, and maybe a storage unit with our name to it. and out into a new day in the city, intense and unpredictable, helping one another a little bit when there's no one else you can trust, hoping to survive...

another loss -iv

i borrowed your bike because mine was already locked up in my future home, this cool and windless morning, and after passing through De Fremery Park,  i found my key under a stone and let myself into the ranch on Magnolia surrounded by high and gapless fence. after catching my breath, i switched out yours for mine, as my Motobecane was twice ten speed and yours BMX. i determined it too dangerous to travel slow through West Oakland at dawn. the lady of the house, an attorney corrupted by law, was dead asleep ina sheet ona couch in the living room. i held my new key close to my heart, and walked down the hall to see the project i had recently completed. two new coats of eggshell paint covered four walls, ready to receive the light and warm a heart or two. all the cat dander raised up in the disturbance, in my lungs now,  soon to wake me with fits of asthma overnight. once i would be lucky, with my dear Kali at my side in the cot, fourth of july, to help with pressure points and rifle through my many backpacks for my inhaler , to rescue me without breath.

Saturday, 29 July 2017

another loss -iii

I was in
      between pages
a book without
binding

You let me stay
with you
one night
a moment's notice

we were friends
our lives derelict
 unusual

the music
the midnight
oil

      bands like us
cannot make it
no more

 traded street level
 stories

         left out
again. in the sunlight
 soon to be
exposed

 before dawn

 you were kicking
back. i was several back
packs deep to and from
Magnolia street

several unsavory characters
wanted a piece
of me they
could not catch
me

       thank god
 for this
       bicycle...

Tuesday, 25 July 2017

another loss -ii

We stayed up all the night long tradin' EDM cuts and smoking, and kept mostly quiet about all the damage our exes done us, knowing in our hearts the damage we done them, too. This here was as close to the street as I ever got, out of luck on the room I had paid for every week for several months, (someone had spotted my cat and complained, again, pets were not allowed) with the half-promise of a room in West Oakland, from the mouth of a corrupt attorney with one foot in the dope game and high all the time. I had no other recourse, none at all! This was twenty eleven. I had only to be willing to scrub and paint a small room full of furniture and covered in multiple cat stank, and I could stay there for the summer. This was the house of a second attorney, an alcoholic moonlighting as a cat doctor at home, who got in over her head on Magnolia by DeFremery Park. The day I met her she asked if I wanted to make a quick buck, and walked me downtown while instructing me how to serve papers. I remember hesitating as I approached the window, a government agent behind glass, and looked back to get a nudge on from under the wild gray-hair, permanent slouch, and a wandering eye. She offered me a drag off her pint of Southern Comfort on the way home. I was fifty bucks richer, cash, and desperate. My unemployment had finally run dry  in this boarding house on 28th @ Telegraph, telling time by Kojak episodes, and my friend whom I shared a room with finally got sick of me or spun out, and bailed. By that time I was already sharing a bed with a punk I met, upstairs, and not around much anymore. On my bicycle most of the days, a Motobecane i had mail-ordered online several months ago, and always brewing pots of some of the finest grounds from Indonesia I procured from Sweet Maria's down the way, a local coffee distributor a stone's throw from the Port of Oakland. Didn't have a job and wasn't really looking most of the time. PTSD was my common denominator, and divided up my senses, hanging them far and wide by the neck, until dead...

another loss -i

You let me stay one night in your room, many years ago,  i was in between places and spaces and a kick in the gut had landed me in Oakland with nowhere to go. Brown-outs were my life back then, and nobody can tell you what your psychosis is gonna look like or how it will feel, because they aren't buried behind your eyes. Electronic Dance Music was one thing we had in common that night, and we had what was left of my battered laptop to trade tracks that touched us...

Friday, 21 July 2017

telekat #2017 songs

if friday was saturday

the cost of living was an abbreviated attention span and the tasteless smell of green in the back of your throat. the cost of living was a cold brew coffee fueling an organism programmed to turn on itself. the cost of living was an unholy alliance with anonymity, a television you paid the company to babysit for, hours on end in an armchair, and a remote to control you by. the cost of living was free.

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

GTL - a book reading - 1 30 2

when pennies were copper

mag wheels for eyes
roll out in silent film
silver screen dyes

down walkways
floorlit and salted
and buttered with
scenes

of someone else's storied
childhood

long legs falling in love
with strapping lads on streets
paved flat by
pennies

land without
cell phones

a sunday. 1955
a city. 1959

when churches were
sanctuaries

mark the time
by the bells and
the sun

we rest on
bloody knees

the automobile
extinct

home. 1936
the sky. 1910

the pool
1920 and two metres
deep

the denim
1969. when pennies
were copper

the board
she saw better
days

cut elbows
in ink

porcelain cheap
for the poor

inscripted
the names
in powder blue
soap

sliding down rails
to the subway

we saw better
days

laughter echoes

a certain
despair



- KatYa, July'17

Grand Theft Life - a book reading 1 30

Reading Grand Theft Life Book 1 29

Reading Grand Theft Life Book 1 28

Friday, 14 July 2017

transcend. journal 14 july

the great force i sometimes seek to embellish or highlight my mundanity, is located in the heart of the stillness of the chaos. somehow every day i manage to pick myself up (and coffee helps) and put my old self together and step out into the responsibility i feel to live a full if not helpful life in the chaos of old earth. i have a little ocd compulsion while driving the midtown streets whereby i check back to a purple inked textbook i rely on professionally, which sits in the center of the backseat catching light beneath the canopy, my only passenger, and bring my eyes back to the curve of the chipped windshield and my path before me, and i will reach an arm back and press the heel of my hand against the glossy finish, too. i don't know why i do this but it grounds me. life is fucked up. we ought to be good to ourselves, be caring.

bastille day 2017
i wanna be helpful to anyone i can, when i am at my best. in the heart of the stillness of the chaos, is located the great spirit i seek to sustain me. somehow i manage every day. i realize more and more there is nothing we cannot overcome now. we were born to be here and handle this. we can transcend any challenge no matter how large, simply by having the guts to face it. show up, confront it, walk through it. we were born to love and be loved.

Wednesday, 12 July 2017

READING - GTL - BOOK 1.27.2

READING - GTL - BOOK 1.27.1

twelve

Twelve went out for a run at eleven only to be liquefied by noon. A group of children roaming free for the summer came across the silver tracings and got down, low to the ground, and dipped their fingers into the silt, looked at one another and laughed. They painted their faces and tracked twelve back home. Lodged in the system for good and no longer alone, twelve struck twice a day and made himself known.

Reading from GTL Book 1 26 2

Reading GTL Book 1 26 1

polyester cotton and the modern rain

the rains came and i began sleepin really sleepin...

when i awoke it was not over, all the walls and windows gone drenched, and warm my skin contoured by polyester cottons, i pulled the useless glass from my eyes and looked around me...

                                              we were all alike

k. summer'17

Wednesday, 5 July 2017

free

The air was popping and crackling and exploding all around us, and as the sun set i listened to independence day sing her song, sizzling and whistling and screaming into darkness, and the chaos of my mind went dead finally, in the midst of this busy life, and i became a small yet meaningful voice among millions, no, billions of inflections wishing to be heard. And small yet meaningful was all i ever was and cared to be.

Monday, 3 July 2017

Grand Theft Life 1.25 a reading

GTL 1.24.2 a book reading

GTL1.24.1 book reading

black as desire

my coffee exposure exceeded its recommended daily allowance, and i showed all the telltale signs of caffeine exhaustion, from impending sense of doom to useless fights with the others, wishing i could snap myself into the center of a forest. my devices and pets were all vying for my attention but she was nowhere to be found. i reluctantly tossed a foamed paper cup with a sleeve into a blue bin at a café, and went sideways into a night, steamwhistle of a pot on a stove, contracting a spirit into a five minute steep of an old reliable, constant comment. what to my dismay, her producers had changed her floral notes, and a memorable song of an early childhood was hummed through the teeth ona variable. i don't care. tomorrow i'm strikin' out for the old bean, scarred from the heat and black as desire.

Friday, 30 June 2017

stay

K. June 2017
our gods were different and we broke into hard candy and cell phones chirping to be hacked. China and Germany were already in there, coded in sugar of maples from Canada. the world turned pink and tasted of Pepto Bismol, when all the acid washed away, I asked you and you did, Stay

Thursday, 29 June 2017

1984 kids

1984 kids

July came along and nobody knew our names
the fireworks were popping
no one could see them
they peppered our ears

we checked the sky
the powder had ignited
the oxygen burned
the paper falling to ground

after dark
we saw the snakes flying
umbrellas of light
the stars draped by the tails

slowly we recognized
who we were
motionless
cars and voices
and our names being called
in the night

cars and voices and our names
being called

motionless
in the night

our names
being called


- KatYa, 2017


This is my recently completed full 'video book' reading...

book review...

The Dead ZoneThe Dead Zone by Stephen King
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is definitely one of my favorites by King. If you are a child of the eighties (or older), gen x, you will get a real nostalgia kick what with all the references to American culture 1970's. The characters come to life, the storylines thread well and weave into a fine fabric, and it's not too gory or over the top with fantasy, less supernatural more psychic powered, and overall the book is pretty timeless. The movie's not bad, either, what with Chris Walken. This ice cream cone is vintage Stephen King and stand alone sweet!


View all my reviews

Wednesday, 28 June 2017

GWB FINAL 2.16.4 READING

This is the final reading from my novel Girl Without Borders. If you enjoyed this reading and wish to hear more, you can go to my YouTube channel and watch or listen to me read the entire book, start to finish, in the playlist titled the same. Each reading is 2-5 minute increments and the playlist allows you to set your controls to play the book all the way through if you select the button to play the next video automatically. I would encourage anyone who enjoyed the video/audio to pick up the novel at amazon.com, barnes and noble, itunes, or other online retailers. The book is available in paperback and ebook form. Thank you for supporting independent authors.

BOOK GWB 2.16.3 READING

BOOK GWB 2.16.2 READING

GWB book reading 2.16.1

Tuesday, 27 June 2017

made my strikes

I went bowling over the weekend and made my strikes... we had nothing left to spare. I dropped some van halen on the ears and a ten pound marble on wax floors, and that puppy found its way to the void and disappeared, taking a whole lotta sticks with it to the hereafter. My form wasn't very good and gosh, I didn't care about the arrows or the baseball game or the scorecard on the screen next to it. All I cared about was turning around to look you in the eyes and know you loved me.

Sunday, 18 June 2017

counterfeit. new york

I wasn't in new york this morning but it was summer and the roads were paved and they served bagels for breakfast. the time zone was pacific and a war was on the television. i was wearing sweatpants with stripes down the side when we passed the community garden, hunting for coffee and thirsting for a few solid hours together. i think it costs more than a hundred dollars to mint a hundred dollar bill to fend off all the counterfeits. a liberty bell like gold braille pushes off the paper, and blue 100's levitate up a sleeve. i'm calling my pops on father's day, the phone is ringing, mom picks up. i run some interference and fingers through the weave.
vitamin k. 2017

Sunday, 11 June 2017

headlines. worrylines

Being rather tired I forgot where I was going and lost my way, and tasted the tongue of confusion, pitched along to suspension like seeds in a raspberry jam,  a name stained by headlines,  a lengthy thoughtful smoke. They would never find me here. The worry lines began to disappear. No use frettin on gettin nowhere when there was a fire to be made to boil water over, and keep warm by. I mapped my memory tracing lines of your facade with the heel of my boot, in the shadow of a hanging falcon's talons. They scratched below the eyelids shutting out the light to protect us. We would find a plot of land and marvel at the countryside. When clashing on the ground in the air in the water under the earth, your mouth might betray you. Best to stay silent and wait. Still, you're too much, you know. A little south and uncoordinated, so near, so dear to me. Sweet like sugar.  - Katya

Friday, 9 June 2017

early morning americans

struck a balance with all, in the city in the summer after dawn, when the morning bird was heard and the sun at eye level, playin hide and seek behind deciduous trees, while the cat trailed you partways to the cafés, and the barista knew your name without asking, and the statesman laughed and folded his newspaper and nary a phone was ringing, the time was reserved for a church bell and silence. americas were thick with technology, in the cables in the air, and you wouldn't need to care in the early, early mornings. in the city on the streets, face values appreciated and if you looked past the wheels and the burden of homes that were carried, you were sure to find an honesty and goodness that survived any standing recession, knew more than money and politics combined, and had a penchant for pastimes of early morning. as deep as any faith, the devotion. rise and shine, america!

k. early morning devotée

Monday, 5 June 2017

EXCERPT. BOOK#3


"Yes, I have been troubled and I bring my troubles with me wherever I go cause home is wherever I am at any moment. I gotta be dim to think home is static, no, life proves me wrong all the time, stretches and yawns over the blue marble upon which we roll and slip, in our blue dreams it surfaces and dips, rounding us, our edges, in our black and blue jeans, replete with street and graffiti on the walls. A little cream, a little sugar in the coffee and stir. I cannot stop looking at you in my windowpaned heart. Maze. I keep losing and losing you, the rains came and washed you away, the sheets were in the streets and offline, the beats pushing the feet as we walked, the rhythms searching and climbing into the greater sound; the image of what we once were working toward dematerialized again, and just like watching television on the radio it was painful good. And here you are and the whistle has blown, kicking your board up to your hand for the catch, wheels spinning and I’m worried but what the fuck. I got nothing to lose cause with all this time talkin about my faith and talkin and talkin not daring to confront you. Had I already lost you? No, no. Truth, will you lunge at me like this? Boy oh boy. Can I stand there and stand this? Do I have a choice? And yet the big sky is bigger, and I cannot look up and not be amazed by the beauty in a puffed up cloud floating off to nowhere like a poached egg white after the gas is turned off and the waters navy blue… the smiling buddha of spaces, the proclaimer of all things inverted. Girl oh girl. In discordance sliding off a continuum because they forgot to put an end to it. Directly, mathematically correlated to my ability to see what was really going on here in my life, all alone. Yeah, there’s a freedom there. A painful kinda freedom because I will find you if I look hard enough. Painful good. I will get you back, I swear!"

-Ame, Book#3

Saturday, 3 June 2017

peaches. subsumed

all the rest
made me only more tired
so i stopped sleepin

now im
trackin shadows
cross the wall 
while my ice cubes
wave water trails
into ginger ale

rattlin the cubes
against the glass
to remember you

the man above me 
looks off the wall into space
dreaming of life
with someone real

i am sunk into a couch
like buried treasure
all the gouramis gape at me
silent kissing

an air bubble
tough feelings to feel inside
more than i can handle 

i
rattle the cubes 
to remember you

another character
jumps off a page
into my heart

i wonder bout the man 
the life in two 
dimensions. how safe not having
a back to watch

not being real
how safe
how dry
how terrible

you cannot
lend a friend 
a hand or take a stand
brushed off 
like you are. canvassed
for meaning

pretty rendition
come into my heart!
lemme hold you there
make you real
i rattle the glass
and remember you

wax inwards
street sweep the cottons
real estate gets pricey
along the ear canal

listen
i need an extension 
of gratitude
outward. my ideals are almost met
almost
there is

there is
still time yet

journal # june one

Couldn't stand you but
the weather was
fine

I was under it when we got home
and the heart seated in the center
of the bloody thing
making it go

Organized chaos and classified a mess
your up style had gone down
the eggs scrambled
mostly whites the yolks fell
outta fashion

Couldn't stand it
i mean together

The coffee was too
white i mean
                     mixed
                  up with what the cows
gave

I think it all started
i mean ended
in 1992

Wednesday, 31 May 2017

last day of may the reverb

America. was the last day of may and all of the dead end streets look like never ending roads, and all the dead end relationships are enthusiastic pressing another go around with hopes one lucky night of what we once had may carry a small sound around and turn the johnny rotten back to first date territory with long lashes and laughter, and heal the deep gashes like reverb sweetening the deal, to hold a song's triumphant note deep into the memory of the night, a stripped mall's dollar store turned boutique, a dead end presidency turned back to camelot and kennedy days, a mid-preaching pause full of meaning, careless words begin to care, a rebellion to the cause of suffer leaning... it was the last day of may and we have a chance to be deep again, full again, and resonant

GWB BOOK READING 2.14.1

Tuesday, 30 May 2017

what we thought we ever knew about anything

the Sea
her depths
wash out of the green
to constitute
a firmament of
jellyfish

inexact
unspoken
wobbly
uncatalogued

drawn off the balance of
good will

unaccounted for
in waves
in rolls

pretty coins
ripped open
swaying in the
tide

the amplification
of which
throws off
any and all
of what we thought we
ever knew about
anything

GWB READING 2.13.2

GWB READING 2.13.1

Journal # May 29th

The particular oak tree had an attitude. It could see parts of the city skyline the others were not tall enough to catch, and it's attitude was thoughtful, some say jaded. Many families were memorial day licking ice cream cones below, in its shade, and the lines trailed out the door. There was a guy against the sky juggling base ball sized scoops of ice and cream, who lit up at night in neon, and more than one little kid wondered why the neon could not be turned on during the day seeing how the store was open. There was no mistaking the store was open, for there were lines reaching out to the street corner where the tree above was branching. It was memorial day and American jet engines could be heard overhead. The jets could not always be seen against the sky, above the guy and the tree, and you could hear the sound of the crosswalk beneath the jet engines, when people pushed the button to cross. Sometimes when no one was crossing, kids liked to press the button just for fun. The oak tree saw it all. The sugar in the ice cream and freezes was also responsible but could not be blamed. You could follow someone home simply by the dotted line of dripping.

Thursday, 25 May 2017

Grand Theft Life 1.21.3

Grand Theft Life 1.21.2

May 25

The daily life enhancement initiative was set into motion and sprung forward like a tiger, claws retracted for non-violent approach and soft padded manipulation of the microcosm, as opposed to the previous quarter century of claws out technique for random slashing of enemy throats. Said outdated technique had really done a number on the psychosocial sphere, as folks don't like to make friends with sharp claws and cannot see the kind eyes behind them looking softer and aiming to collaborate in a bold italicized continuum.

Monday, 22 May 2017

Kell @ Book #3


"People on the street were starting to notice what a basket case I was, the women and children mostly stared, the men wanted to fix me. A couple of well-meaning bastards tried to play hero and grabbed me by the arm they were so eager to help. Let go of me, don’t fucking touch me! The lucky ones backed away, shocked cuz I ruined their pseudo-heroics, while others dared face me behind their foul breath of omelet and avocado peppered with lox and wall street journal. I hit them with a wind farm of disaffection with the patriarchy. Ya, that’s right, Green Lantern, slow your roll and cool your jets, this ain’t Petrosinella and no, you can’t climb my hair! My performance was incandescent. I zigzagged back ways by alleys to keep from being followed."   - Kell

Thursday, 18 May 2017

cycling adventure (part II)

I remember the moment, standing over my duffle bag full of camping gear at 4am, half-awake and trying to choose between a pillow and long underwear. The pillow won. Over the next several days we woke up from camp @ 530am to a car alarm someone was setting off on purpose (and i thought i got away from the city) to sucker us out of our sleeping bags and tents and inside for coffee and breakfast before heading out for our long daily adventures up in and around Auburn, California...  my decision would come back to haunt me... zooming down steep hills at 7am in nothing but a cycling jersey and t-shirt clocking 40 miles an hour max was a fine recipe for bronchitis -- and yes, it was so worth it. We had a blast, me and my team ladybugs compadres and i definitely contributed at least 250 miles (i confess i didn't do them all this year). 



The weather was outstanding, the crew was incredible, the food was excellent, the cyclists were friendly, and the Gold Country Fairgrounds was a very nice homebase. Nobody got injured (i heard one person maybe fainted) and everyone worked together to make it a safe and sweet trip. I particularly loved listening to tent zippers and trains chugging along, rattling through the night. I hope to stay on the every other year plan but who knows. I seem to have less and less time anymore to do anything. For now my plan is to get back and finish Book #3 of my trilogy -- the Daughter of Darkness series -- so you probably won't hear from me for a while about running or cycling events. 

Oh! I forgot to mention i could not wear my prescription eyeglasses so i got a little bit lost every single day of the ride. We were trying to follow arrows taped to the ground to know where to turn and thankfully we had maps and crew looking out for us, so i never went more than a mile or two off track. Also, in Auburn i greeted a unicyclist with a coffee who was riding a steep grade like a pro, and one gorgeous solitary deer the last day on the American River Trail heading home. There were plenty of horses and cattle and goats and bees in boxes, and the occasional snake which had unfortunately been run over. We also got crop dusted the first day at one of our rest stops. The planes seemed to be dusting us more than the fields! Don't know what that was about - we don't look like crops? - but it felt like a mean country bumpkin trick and we got out of there as soon as we could! 


The final day we rode into William Land Park [via the Sacramento Riverside road and Marina and Old SacTown and a desperate turn through Loaves & Fishes and the Railyards] to a staging area for lunch, and I was the VERY LAST one to arrive because i got lost again that day, somewhere near Loaves & Fishes. I got on course and pedaled hard and made it just in the nick of time, as we had to line up and ride with a motorcycle escort to be at the Amphitheatre by noon for the celebration. A cyclist with a puppy dog in his basket fell over and some asshole almost ran him over. Everyone got scared and angry for a second. Then he was back on his bike, puppy intact, and everything was golden again because the group that was there to celebrate our homecoming was spectacular and loud! And the mayor of West Sac was there to give a nice speech as we stood up with our bikes on the stage and hero medals around our necks. I shed some tears myself, which immediately crystallized into salt on my cheeks. I was rather dehydrated.  


Anyways, thanks to all our friends and supporters, and to the organizers of the event! This year we have thus far raised close to a quarter million dollars! Love from me to you. 


KatYa  'just another ladybug on wheels'

cycling adventure 2017

We are 16 hours from liftoff, the start of the ride at the Barn in West Sacramento, and i am rushing around getting some last minute things in place, doing my laundry, securing cat-sitters, packing my bags, getting the bike ready, doing therapy, and, well, i just had to sit down for a minute, take a deep breath and thank god and the supporters who helped us get here. This is my second NCAC. NorCalAidsCycle 2015/2017. A 300-mile, 4-day bicycling adventure through Woodland to Placer County then up to Lake of the Pines and back to Auburn, down to Roseville and back up again, then down through Granite Bay to Beals Point on Lake Folsom and back home to William Land Park. 

The forecast is just great, sunny weather through the weekend and in the mid seventies. Unlike two years ago I know many people in this years ride, some from the 2015 ride, others from Kaiser (including my doctor who is riding with his sister this year), and I belong this year to 'Team Ladybugs' which is comprised of 4 riders and 3 crew members all of whom i work with at the GHC in Sacramento where I am a volunteer counselor. Feels good to belong and I am excited to get on my trusted ride, the same one I used in 2015 and have owned since 2011, sleek black steel with carbon forks, Motobecane's Cafe Noir. Two wheels and twenty seven gears of delightful freedom.
quentin and k. selfie @ rainbow bridge
All contributions to this cause are going directly to the healthcare providers who locally have a direct impact on the community, offering essential and immediate services at low to no cost and sliding scale, to the people who need them. Anywhere from hiv testing to counseling to advocacy to affordable medical care, respite, crisis intervention and basic needs for indigent peoples who lack them. California is remarkable for offering services that other states in this great country do not provide.
keyko and k. william pond rec
I can't wait for the camping tech-holiday and break from work. I've been working 12+ hour days all this year if you include my job, my new volunteer job, and all the hours i put into writing/blogging, and I am pretty darn beat up and frazzled! Thank god i love what i do, or else i would surely be miserable. I haven't had to train for the ride as hard this year, thanks to the marathon training i did all of last year. 
Anyways, the beauty of life is in the journey, day by day. I wish you could all be riding beside me but for sure you will be in my heart. And may we all be grateful for our health and longevity, and keep the memory of those friends and family we lost to HIV/AIDS alive today.  We will be having a candlelight vigil on saturday night up at the Gold County Fairgrounds in Auburn where we are camping. I will at that time light a candle for them, too. 

love and gratitude,

KatYa   'just another ladybug'

plotting (how to find a pulse)

Journal entry. may 18th. this morning i return to the manuscript, i return to my desk where i belong, to have another go at the trilogy, the daughter of darkness, a five year endeavor coinciding with a sea change in my life and lifestyle. i don't know how this will work out, but hopefully by the end of the summer all these mornings strung together will produce a fresh and final paperback copy of the third book for you to sink your eyes in.

many of you have been on this adventure with me, and i thank you. i am hopeful and invigorated now, getting back to Ame and Bless and Freddy and Maze and Kell. part fiction, part story of my life, it's really a tracking back into my spirit and heart.  some people like to ask where do fact and fantasy diverge? my curiosity lies elsewhere. i wanna live and play in the place where fact and fiction converge, and make a home for us there, you and me. the interplay of what i have experienced, with my imagination.

waking up fresh from dreams to a blue white morning light - rinsing my face with cool water - setting a prayer and intention - placing my fingertips on these keys - feeling the weight of the desk in my wrists - the earth in the soles of my feet... i am finding my pulse.

Saturday, 6 May 2017

off running. always dreaming

Life will always be troubling but we have to find our way and how i feel about myself has direct bearing on how it unfolds. what the hell it wasn't even a magical morning i woke up alone like usual with a not so friendly recollection on my mind and a not so super feeling like i probably blew a gasket. i got up and said hey! it's another effin day and either i'm gonna make something of it or it's gonna bury me. i got movin and french pressed around one in the afternoon, so i could kick it up a notch and pop my eyes in shake my hair out change up and get back to work. sure i said a mantra. i had to find myself in the mirror. when ready i hit the pavement and let the freeway style the day, and i got lucky enough to turn on the radio just before the last pony the one with the patch over its blind eye got into the final gate at the Kentucky Derby, and we were off running. Bukowski was somewhere mint julep in hand lucky ticket in his breast pocket, always dreamin.

Sunday, 30 April 2017

(we are) wall ball material

naked like ankles
bit by geese
scraped on thorns
bloodshot
our eyes
behind caked makeup an
low-grade petroleum
products
our scars

salvage yards
smoke trails
pic'n'pull
highways
bits of plastic
bits of plaster
bits of glass

we are
wall ball material
circa 1973

our water
steady boiling
ona stove
poached eggs
double-breasted
back-stabbings
on front street

the boardwalk vanishes 
in the fog
in the cloud

gas consumption
tele vacation
the coffee
sure is bitter
around here

for now
you made a friend
i made a friend
my gosh

you can do that
you see
young runaway
you did

letter

one lonely night ona
edge ina pool
of light

inscribed by hand
taken from the scene
collected bya squeeze 
ofa heart

folded in thirds
double encrypted
inaccessible to all
but one

like pores
touched by witch
hazel
ona edge
ina pool
of light 

one candle
 night

kept
 from a
world and

given
you



- KatYa

potion

dyscolored
in the foamy froth
so recently drained
boiled off

the scientists stand
fatigued
admiring

language lost
in a crowd of
the avowed

the serum


there is a discordance
a shaking of foundations
if the color hits the litmus test

and meets other requirements 
unknown

the sound
a hollow tone


- excerpted from 
'Heart Holds A Vacancy' 
(KatYa, 2011)

Monday, 24 April 2017

promise

once there was a boy named bee 
upon my knee

softly telling me how rivers
did not reach the sea in the year 
twenty twenty three

some were black others blue
in twenty twenty two
and none could you wash your
self in

his eyelashes fluttered 
feeling me shudder
i could tell 
he honestly knew 

he unbuttoned my collar 
i cried and hollered and then he promised 
just breathe

then rolled up our sleeves so carefully
we could see those cuts on
our arms

with one finger 
he crossed my lips
tenderly looking into my eyes
and

we existed quietly there
until about quarter past one
bee upon my knee
and me

i wondered if all of the darkness
 he shared

could 
     ever
         be
          undone

yet i knew our

                 pain
             was
         the
same


- KatYa, 2017

Saturday, 22 April 2017

journal # 22 of april

the sunlight fell and we rose up
 to meet it everyone
 on the street

it burst into constellations
of broken glass
in the road

we stretched into lengths of newfound
lands verdant green were we

thin strips
followin the tracks
out to where grass prospered

here we forgot all those lives
in the newspapers they
stacked up against
 us

the rainy days
we missed them

Thursday, 20 April 2017

GTL a novella frag 1.18.4

GTL a novella 1.18.3

Grand Theft Life Book 1.18.2

crisp like apples like childhood

i still like apples when they are crisp and cool and fresh, i like biting into them and the taste, it seems unlike life, which is a drag across the cold and hard face of a clock... when i catch an heirloom kinda apple in the palm of my hand it always fits, perfect like a baseball but better cause it's unprocessed, more like childhood when the skin needs no astringent and all the body is firm and thoughts are clear and waking up is fresh and new and motivation is natural and intention pure    - K

GIRL WITHOUT BORDERS BOOK 2.9.5

GIRL WITHOUT BORDERS BOOK 2.9.4

GIRL WITHOUT BORDERS 2.9.3

Thursday, 13 April 2017

i mean no harm

i am not out to get anyone and i doubt i am so important that anyone would be out to get me either. i get upset and jaded and rebellious and depressed and lethargic and dramatic and hyper and childish as much as anyone. i get outta bed and clean myself up and make me some breakfast and coffee, and head out to work my ass off everyday just like anyone tryin to get by in this crazy world. i have trauma in my past which reaches out to grab me, too. i have good memories of being a carefree kid and am grateful to my family for all they did to raise me right. i went a little sideways, sure. who didn't? i have my moments i feel elated and free and my spirit is strong these days. but i still make mistakes like anyone, i have my pitfalls. believe me, i mean no harm. i'm not out to cause anyone pain, and i don't really subscribe to the idea that other people are the cause of my pain. well, maybe sometimes i feel that way. but at my best, i know my pain is my pain, and no one else can really be to blame. not my mom, not my dad, not my friend, not my enemy, not my brother, not my sister, and not even god.

Wednesday, 12 April 2017

wheels

there's really nothing wrong with two people coming together for a time, living together, being together, and then having differences drawin them apart, a change of heart, and then lookin for another start somewhere else with someone else. there might be a culture invested in keeping you together or a family that hopes for you to heal. and yes, you could recover, the two of you, you could but it would have to take both of you with all your might to make it right. all the bad blood pooled up like that. it would be very hard. the world wants you both to make it, yes, the culture, maybe even the family. but suns rise and wheels roll and pavement cracks and suns set, and what with all the change you find it hasn't happened yet? there's really nothing wrong with moving on.

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

this moon is not pink and they-them-theirs never will be

Though you call them the 'pink moon' and dress them in floral prints of the season, the full moon tonight will show their true color to you tonight and let you be let down (or up), and they will light your faces up so they can see how happy or sad you are to see them so. And they will shine upon the phlox they were misnamed after, whose flamed flowers will rise in unison to the top of their stems to peer upon them, and feel their power of persuasion, and the feeling will feel full and beneficial and the phlox flower water will become bubbly and pour pink champagne into the trumpet of the lily. All will at very least acknowledge the full and vibrant moon for their mighty refusal to be classified, categorized, denigrated, or diagnosed. Darwin may well be confused, yet his curiosity a contagion the whole world could catch. The moon was a kind moon, a gentle moon, a moon of many colors, and kept their feelings somewhat to themselves, so not to disturb the galaxy.

little children made a song they like to sing
every april comes around...

then one day 
the pink moon got away
turned blue 
for me and for you
happily and for 
ever

too

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.18.1

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.17.3

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.17.2

Friday, 7 April 2017

when you stay where you are long enough

late friday. i came home after midnight to fall in love all over again, being with you, your stone cold fixed hold upon my gaze, all the week long work fallen off your leaden shoulders, and then we were both of us no longer struggling. replaced by an embrace there on the couch the cats have torn half to hell, believing in the same god who brought us together, rediscovering the colors in our eyes, feeling the common ground of recollected pain, the loss inside our former dreams... against the bright and soft-focused clarity that has replaced them.
midtown. by katya

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.16.1

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

yes

The quality of life changed, i could sleep at night and stay up all day. i found an exceptional colombian coffee which filled my thermos with a couple spoonfuls of brown sugar and cream, and lasted all day long. i was happily employed in the art of conversation, beneath the surface of dysfunctional meet and greets. spring was coming on strong and every other person with allergies. the cats found entertainment in the yards, after a long winter indoors. i replanted my plant and set it on the windowsill where it prospered. my boyfriend took me for pancakes early mornings, and then we hit the depot for large sacks of mulch, five for ten, and i helped him toss them into the bed of the truck. he took them to the Delta for the orchards.  -KatYa, 2017

Friday, 31 March 2017

journal # march turns away

march was turnin april and i made all my mistakes and i knew it. screw it. im decidedly optimistic with a chosen ascension. left that old reel spinning light down the aisle. click-click-click ridin rails with the tape. broke down that wall of denial.   - katya


netflixxx

the last episode of the last season pulled
all the feelings
outta me
 today

god it felt good
katya. 2016

mood elevator

thursday. pm

starin
at some reflective floor
some polished hall

waitin
4 the doors
to meet

a light
a chime
a bounce

the bottom
falls out

i rolled in
all atomic
uncontained
energy

now ima
hydraulic
haul ina
box

a simple
toe turn to
taxicab flag
hell

friday. am

going up?
ya             (im down)

bouncin
friendly
coffee sloshin
mornings

suspended in
definite
frenzy

the mood

only sleep
can break it
 up

Thursday, 30 March 2017

casting Madison Avenue fishbowl eyes

Our spirits, in the spaces between and apart and far from, are yet to be hemmed in, anyway, they sway in unison with and out of synch then, consonance and dissonance together holding hands, not necessarily about coming together by choice, some were forces above and beyond our bell curved comprehension, and more out of synch are the spirits with the reeds with the grasses with the grains. Ceres. Above overlooking the whole operation, downtown Chicago, casting Madison Avenue fishbowl eyes... against the grain as pressures come to bear in our espresso machines in our offices in our relationships in our lives.

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

today an ICE agent tomorrow an angel in hell

Second only to the FBI in its investigative reach, deep in the pockets of American taxpayers, the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency laid its golden egg and hatched its controversial plans to rid the country of more than just illegals in the year of dear god!  twenty seventeen. Compliments to the chef. They were cooking up some marvelous remoulade to curry bipartisan favor with faux headlines and fear mongering, from here to Hong Kong. Political showmanship prospered out of the loins of homeland insecurity. ICE agents darkened your town hall and mine, to show all communities that they exist, in the depths of adversarial detachment and unavailability. Showing those who have put forth the largest parts of themselves and their lives toward anything of any substance, the door.

luckily the way of the world prevails

I think now more about the one who is there where I was. And how I might support them. Where might they come from to have arrived here? I actually think by listening to my heartbeat, in and out of synch with the many hearts, and watching thus I learn so much of interest. This last part I am saying in my head or you, in yours. Meet me in between the pages, read to me, in our eyes the fires of silence, our lips at night tremble to face the dawn. We seem to have a connection that travels farther still, resplendent through a fog which always dissipates.We share the chill that gives way to the fiercest sunrise, softest where we met, to ever rinse off the earth! Again, we fall in love.

crush

The world drank in a cross-sectioned bit of her life

it was springtime then
the orange crush

all the birds had something
to say

you picked out
the thrush


a million variations
on green

and everyone in
a rush

Sunday, 26 March 2017

you cannot miss my omission

tell us about it
about your path
they asked

listening and leaning in to me
with wild rambunctious eyes

when this moment arises
I say nothing
or little

I may say nothing later
I may never say anything
at all

or very little

you think you want 
my words

yet

you cannot miss
my omission


it is always a
most spectacular
event
four eyes

Saturday, 25 March 2017

the opening is tbd. byo latchkey

we were...

latchkey kids. made deaf beneath 
the wall of sound

of the industry
of the landscape
in the head

we played arcade games
to recover and chewed bubble 
gum and drew on ourselves
with ballpoint pens 

dumb kids. not stupid just 
contextually thin

lacking or without sense or
the means to make
sense

hungry for relevance
starved of context 
ignorant of our rights 

we no longer studied our 
country's constitution
in high school

we microwaved tv dinners
and rode our bikes into the 
night with duran duran baking
our heads by transistor
radio

stressed kids. the trance-like induction 
of environmental stressors fill
the internal auditorium

teeming life of feelings acid-washed
a sensitive study of self
unreleased

abbreviated from an lp to an ep
the world stops when the record store is closed
the opening is tbd

you are all invited
statistics will be gathered
and fall upon us
with friends

new cokes slim jims leg warmers
byo latchkey

Thursday, 23 March 2017

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.15

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.14.2

GRAND THEFT LIFE 1.14.1

excerpts of an interview

My work was recently featured on Snowflakes Arise, a Wordpress website. The mission statement of this site is: "separating authors from the herd and giving them one-on-one time with readers." Here is an excerpt of the interview...

MAZE. a novel by Katya Mills: Maze is the name of the heroine’s boyfriend, a punk skateboarder who is slightly psychotic, paranoid and features throughout the story. There is a dark and damaged love story sunk within the plot.



WHY SOMEONE WOULD WANT TO READ IT: The book is character-driven, told from the perspective of a young woman who is struggling to makes sense of her life, unable to deny her shared DNA with the tribe that abducted her, and caught between those competing for her love and attention, particularly Maze and her best friend, Bless. The narrative is first person colloquial, flavored with attitude, a coming of age thread woven through it. Ame makes an honest attempt to recreate herself in the margins of society, and discovers she has inherited superpowers. I have been told (and close to 100 total reviews of my work on Goodreads and Amazon combined, which average 4 out of 5 stars, agree) that my writing style is unique, lyrical and even groundbreaking. Not everyone is into it, so be sure and read the samples beforehand or try the freebie on Smashwords.



Amazon customer: “Katya’s sui-generis style is like reading poetry with it’s own unique rhythm and cadence; like deciphering a new secret language (much like I felt first reading Frank McCourt). Once you have attuned to the pulse, you feel let in to the secret world of those seeking the Tangy Energetic; you are now on the inside, you are one of them. Katya takes you on a journey where you discover what is like to be different, from the dark origins of beginnings – to the heady days of everyday life; playing, seeking, surviving, using, living among humans, helping, energizing, questioning, and experiencing the thrill and torment of loving the one, or two, that captivate the heart.”



Amazon customer: “I’ve read her first in the Daughter of Darkness series, called Grand Theft Life and this book, Maze, like the first novella in this series proves to be about much more than an urban fantasy… to me it’s about love, fear, friendship, loyalty, learning, introspection, hope, mystery, fantasy, reality. All of this is being brought to us in the first two books of the series, Daughter Of Darkness… along with lots of juicy, fun filled, introspective, rhythmical flowing prose, expressing thoughts and perspectives on our world and life within it. Katya writes about very interesting characters and in a style so rich and poetry prose filled that it almost makes you forget the unfolding plot, fed to us slowly and teasingly as we get to know life on the street with Ame and her friends.”


 Katya Mills is an Independent author, self-published with several books to her name. She hopes to become a ‘Hybrid’ author and is currently seeking representation. She's proud to say there are now close to 100 total reviews of her work on Goodreads and Amazon combined, averaging better than 4 out of 5 stars... The link to the full interview is located here:  Snowflakes Arise

Wednesday, 22 March 2017

good night means good wishes

I no longer have the pride of my youth, but I stand tall as ever. I no long carry the false promise of an imaginary future in my head, where all problems have been solved and challenges overcome. I face the rising sun and realize despite its powerful light and growing heat, it has no edges and cannot cut me. We can therefore have a dialogue over our three course meal. Hardship will never be just a memory and the sun has no gender.

good morning  (appetizer)
afternoon  (repast)
good evening  (dessert)

- K (meditations on a rainy day)

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

fear and the medulla

Back in the desperate place the mind likes to take me, where the thoughts are all discouraging and fear walks unaccosted across the oblongata, tamping the vessels until blood pressure rises, I see that I am troubled and finally say a prayer, as my breathing heads for the shallows where the shore has disappeared...       
from King's 'The Dead Zone
what saved me, this time, was drawing the Dead Zone, the paperback, up to my face, my nose tucked in towards the spine, and closing my eyes and inhaling deeply the scent of the pulp, which transported me body and soul into a lovely forest, some forgotten place and time,  from which this pulp was hewn. 


the ides of march upon us, here is my wish...
may we overcome all our fear, live long and prosper

- KatYa, 2017

Wednesday, 15 March 2017

ultra (run 4 life) - conclusion

Goat Hill was a vertical climb for about a half mile or so, around miles 25-6, up to the second to last aid station where I had some more broth and rested for a while before my run to the finish. There was no running up Goat Hill, no way. I kept asking people where the goat was, who was supposed to carry us up the hill? but nobody knew of any such thing. There were a couple of volunteers halfway to the top of the hill with loudspeakers encouraging us on and doing a little comedy routine to keep us lifted. I was thrilled because I knew I was gonna make it to the end (and my boyfriend's arms), and there was no rain.

I took a strip of K Tape and got someone's help to anchor it on my neck, too, cuz my neck begins to ache late in a race; I think it's because I have such a big head! The tape worked wonders and there would be nothing stopping me for the last stretch to home, not even the great riverbed which we had to climb for a couple miles to the finish line. I powered my way across to the cheers of all the kind people who stuck around, wow, I couldn't believe I was hiking and running for close to 8 hours! I found Tosh and we got the signature frog cupcakes and I showed off my silver medallion and had some BBQ, and we talked to the lively volunteers and runners who I crossed paths with earlier. The wind was whipping up and it was about to rain, so we got in the car and headed home.
post race with Tosh

What a day! The night before, Tosh and I drove up to Auburn so I could pick up my race pack at the Auburn Running Company. While we were there we met some runners, and I was able to go over the map of the race and got some pointers from a nice lady who ran it many times, herself. Then they drew my name from the lottery and announced I had won entry into next year's race, 2018. I was somehow not surprised. Just felt like I was destined to do this one again. Auburn, nestled in the foothills of the Sierras and home to this friendly and down-2-earth ultra community, reminds me of where I come from: the White Mountains, Lakes Region, New Hampshire. It's nice to know I can drive up here anytime from Sacramento, and feel like I am home. It's nice to know I get to do this again, and be with my new friends, next year.