Wednesday, 30 December 2015

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.

Tuesday, 29 December 2015


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.

Monday, 28 December 2015

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.

Sunday, 27 December 2015

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.

Saturday, 26 December 2015

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.

Thursday, 24 December 2015

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.

Tuesday, 22 December 2015

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.

Monday, 21 December 2015

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.

Sunday, 20 December 2015

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. 

Saturday, 19 December 2015

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.

Friday, 18 December 2015

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.

Thursday, 17 December 2015

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.

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

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.

Monday, 14 December 2015

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. 

Sunday, 13 December 2015

Maze 2:6:3 -- storytelling

Book Two
Chapter 6 
Part 3


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. 

Friday, 11 December 2015

changes and reviews


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!

Wednesday, 9 December 2015

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!

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

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

Monday, 7 December 2015

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 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. 

Sunday, 6 December 2015

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. 

Thursday, 3 December 2015

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. 

Tuesday, 1 December 2015

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.