Saturday, 30 April 2016

Journal #

Politics goes on like usual in our country and some people take sides and others don't and everyone seems to wanna espouse something even if it's indifference. I cannot eat an apple because I have a temporary crown. I could cut one up but it's not the same. I prefer not to use a knife on anything if I can help it. Someone once used a knife on me. They asked for money and all I had was some change. This was Chicago in maybe 2001. I had a buck knife I used to carry around then, but it wasn't on me that night. Not that I would have used it, I'm sure I wouldn't have dared. Not with a knife to my throat. Another time several years later in San Francisco I was with a guy in a motel, a dealer, and he took his blade and used it to barricade the door. I guess the lock on the knob was broken. Then we had sex but we didn't make love. And no I never saw him again. All I wanna do is eat an apple but one of my teeth is plastic and it's just too risky. Politicians go on and on, calling one another devils an making promises as though they don't already know they won't be able to keep them. They feign that sorta innocence, as though they aren't really politicians just people who want the best for you and me. That's what's so heartbreaking about it. Someone acts like they're innocent but they really aren't.         -- KatYa, 2016

Friday, 29 April 2016


I unearthed the secret message you sent me, when I took all the words away from your letters and left only the punctuation marks and remarks. Now I can connect the dots and see what you mean. I understand you feel connected. And I still love you, too. Maybe some day we can exchange words. I know that meeting up in person is impossible. I would fall unconscious if you touched me. I accidentally rubbed all of the coating off the photograph, so there is nothing left of us now. Was the question mark between the two exclamation points several sentences apart, considered cancelled out? I will keep it circled until you tell me so. It all ended so abruptly. I am under stress and over emphasis. But in places where the words ran off the pages, I lost your meaning, you see, I sponged the table after breakfast and must have washed them out. I must dash away now. I'm really sorry for to have to ask you to repeat yourself. But I need to be sure, or else I will make a fool of myself. Please do not worry anymore. Like light over time, the image is always moving. Changing. Sometimes I wish it was blurry again, because when it's this clear it can be so sharp it hurts. Do not forget I ...

Thursday, 28 April 2016

Review: Vintage Munro

Vintage Munro Vintage Munro by Alice Munro
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The Vintage series of books is great. Whomever made the selections of writings of contemporary authors did a fine job. The short stories in this book show why Munro won the Nobel Prize. Her power of description is second to none. Her characters may as well be in the room with you. There's a lot of small town Canada in here. The central characters are often revisiting the past through the present, when someone or thing catches their eye. I love the way Munro walks us seamlessly through time, often to explore the interplay of relationships between several generations of any given family. What time has done to them. What time has given them. The characters often have a delicate understanding of their own lives, it seems. Confronted with the opinions and memories of their relatives, trying to hold on to the dialectic without shutting down or falling apart. Like no other, Munro is able to draw the reader into the art of investigating her characters' lives, and feel the pain of separate truths.

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GWB - Video Book 1:2:1


Wednesday, 27 April 2016

the mad scientist in me and you (creative process)

mad scientist
I don't know about you but only in silence can I break away from routine and find my way back to her, the mad scientist in me. Ya, once I find her all bets may be off, she may decide to pump some Iggy Pop or Nine Inch Nails into my bloodstream with all the coffee. Here in my laboratory -- aka my apartment --  playing with the soft membrane between you and me in my mind. Going off somewhere unusual and yet somehow self-validating. The unitive awaits us, the collective mind, where we may connect from any distance. It's extrasensory. My head is buzzing by Alice Munro's  Carried Away. I let the kittens outside for the night. They will be cold but they want to go. I am denying the urge to go off with salts and butters on a plate of broiled veggies and shrimp. Other tenants in the building are bumping into our shared walls, makes me feel safer. Me and you, we really need to break the routine for a hot second. Let the atmosphere in my kitchen become remarkable all of a sudden. Only because I am paying extra attention. Super cool and clear with vinyl floors, flourescent overheads, a giant green chair, a laminate wood table. Much different from the feel of the carpeted living room with cathedral ceiling. I can breathe into the silence and feel the softness of the inside of my baby blue dollar store slippers. I can follow the whisping whirr of the ceiling fan. The lovely chime of the Tibetan bell tongue, rocking against itself. Why fear my mad scientist when I love her so? She is raison d'etre like no other! Out of her comes strange stories like Maze and Grand Theft Life. Maybe that's what terrifies me? Stories of my life but not exactly memoirs. Call it creative nonfiction. Or don't call it anything at all. Just what comes out of the silence with me. Alluring and luring us to a feast of re creation. Thank god I have my laboratory. Thank god I have my routine to break. Thank god I have my health. Thank god for Alice Munro. Thank god for you. Thank god for books. Thank god for the mad scientist in me -- and in you. Let's all let ourselves get carried away by our experiments tonight. This is true living!

Tuesday, 26 April 2016

Review: Running with Scissors

Running with Scissors Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Sometimes the saddest things make for great laughs. Augusten's memoir is like that. He could have painted his childhood in brooding, sentimental brushstrokes. The abandonment. Mental illness. The manipulation. But he edited out his ego and left us with absurdity. The peculiar absurdity which comes with tragic circumstance like fast food come with fries. Neither is really good for your health. I got sick with him. And broke out in laughs.

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Monday, 25 April 2016

Video Book - Girl Without Borders 1:1:3


response to Audrey Marie Keel

i do not know what it feels like to be forced outta country (thank god) but i do know what it feels (and felt) like to have to leave the home of the culture i grew up in which would (and did) have me hate myself for i do (and did) not belong i am (and was) not loved nor do i (nor will i) exist in the belly of the culture i was born into, there was (and is) (and will be) no place for me and i ran like hell to get to myself to find myself to love myself against all that hated me (including them) (including me) before i even knew who i was (who i am and will be) and that was (is) (will always be) different      -- KatYa (response to the poem 'Home' by Warsan Shire)

Saturday, 23 April 2016

Journal # 04.23.16

You had a yo-yo and could walk the dog and spin a bottle and beeline where it stopped, rushing into a body, knocking torn denim boots and books and knocked up if you don't watch out. And maybe you won't cause maybe you wanna raise a kid with me? Unless we think of the future. Big with it. Feeling it. And nobody else could be happy.

I remember the road trips very well. Close enough to see all the stars been pounded into the pavement. Shoe string budgets and the smell of gasoline. Stretching youth into the sun. I'm glad I made them with you. The nights of headlights and dashed lines and loving you inside your angst. How we found joy in the midst of an endless journey. Must have been the laughter over stupid shit. Got the character outta me and it cracked you up. Nirvana and Pearl Jam all over the radio. Immortality got a tan on the beach. I began to trust you and not myself. Bleach. Marley on a tape deck, and the clock on the screen is digital green. Glowing and the butts end over end flipping behind us, flicked out the windows when windows were rolled up and down. Life was more manual and maybe we liked it that way. The soundtrack of pre-millenium America. See the old Gulf gas signs above the bible belt bullshit?

 My stomach kept getting upset. I tried to calm her down with lengthy and prolonged cream and coffee, but it was no use, she continued to grumble and make my life hellish in the middle of the night. Flamingos and origami cranes. Paper journals on backseats with Big Books. She almost made me sick until I hit the joint. NA was put back another day. I lost the point. Tunnels to Mexico beneath us, Tijuana, and why are they all coming this way? Like you and you made me so happy. Goddamn. Lost the point like Marlon Brando on an island. Jane's addiction. Carefree when wet.

Today I was binging on Netflix in the dark. Remembering that three-legged dog in traffic by the tracks on Broadway. I postponed anything real, awash in afternoon rains. Maybe that's how I begin to remember the names and the places and searching for the kindness and laughter still so hard to find sometimes. The streets carry scent of flowers and here in the City of Trees -- all has turned green, too, like Chicago trying desperate to win back all the land it lost. Last winter. I love you.     - Katya, 2016

Friday, 22 April 2016

double blind

I am a new number, now, they faked my initials. I volunteered for another clinical trial to benefit myself and others who suffer from the same autoimmune issue. A stranger stole into my system about a decade ago, and decided to settle down. I made room for them, what choice did I have? They had faked their papers and got through customs unaccosted. They pretty much keep to themselves and haven't done me much harm all these years. But they like to live contrary to the culture heritage,  and have thrown the ecosystem off. After much deliberation -- and because they are rooted eradication is not an option -- I decided to go for containment. Before the system is gravely disordered. I don't think it's too late, I am still in very good condition.

It's funny how I would become a number in a double blind study, on trial. How I would fake my identity to combat a stranger who did the same to get in.

Thursday, 21 April 2016

what are we in love

culture. dedicated to breakdown and cracked in the teeth. the splinters are our lives and they glint in the sun. stillness is a wonderful thing and makes sense except when you're dead someone said. you decided on an orgasm and made one while i read. i was on the couch with milk green tea and a book and a little light stirred in at the top. i like to strand the light so i can sit at my desk and write. undefeated by music and outta control. how could you lose religion like that? so easily. i gave it to you and you took it to church. communion was godly. white as a sheet (is unreal) and you turned it. black was outright boring until the inky darkness and the not knowing where the hell we are anymore. worship black and white and renounce all the colors between. culture. dedicated to breakdown and cracked in the teeth. gone for a day without nourishment. the corrupted water still pure at the edge where we kissed. all the particulate matters and lip service gave us substance. stars in the ocean in the sky. tattoos made us endure made us pure. i don't give a fuck what you say when you don't know what you're talking about is only in your head. comprised of particulate thought. just like me you're unreal. compromised. but i won't stand behind you like gospel. no. it's just my slant and i try not to crowd anyone. with stars were the children with stars. the splinters in our lives they glint in the sun. i saw myself in a mirror in the darkness and hadn't a clue.  made me me made you you. stillness was a wonderful thing after the noise came, impressed in the froth of a green tea milk sea. i decided on a book and i made one too. i decided on you and you decided on us two. what are we in love.

Monday, 18 April 2016

four five four five three

Dope me up with novocaine
This life is hard to take
When I am numb
You can tear me to pieces

Then when you're done
I can be alone
Putting myself together
One cup of coffee
At a time

Read to me
One word at a time
And i will read
To your grandchildren

Then when I'm done
I can be alone
Putting myself together
One silent prayer
At a time

Some day
I will tell you
How i feel

KatYa © 2016

Sunday, 17 April 2016

Girl Without Borders - vbook 1:1:1

Preface and Book 1: Chapter 1: Part 1 ...

Chicago. West side. Follow the paths of three young lovers at the turn of the millenium. Working-class punks and degenerate-labeled 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 big dreams and a big heart, determined to learn the code of the streets. He falls for a girl with a punk attitude and style all her own. Life gets complicated as Will gets lost in love... with tragic consequences.

This is my debut novel, written from 1997-2003. Girl Without Borders -- Published in 2013. A literary fiction. The first reading of what I am calling a videobook or vbook. I hope you come along for the ride!

Saturday, 16 April 2016

there won't be any weekend

I know it's saturday but there won't be any weekend, I promised, the pulse will count out the same in sixty seconds and I cannot live any other way; I am anti-heroic when it comes to arresting the life in me. I can slow my breath to a near standstill and hibernate on a couch with a cell phone texting emoticons to god through t-mobile, torturing myself with online validation. I don't have an avatar. This wild child of atari is fresh out of excuses for joysticking the halfway living. I cannot even cry about the sad stuff, unless it's yours, cause the sad life is long gone and even if it kills me I promised to fulfill these dreams if only in the making.

There won't be any time off, nahahna, I used all my PTO, all my floating holidays, all my sick days and all my fuckin vacay, distributed through the twenties and thirties, the dopamine bordering on bottoming out. Hell, I had my glory nights of indulgence and days of despair. You probably see it in my eyes. Now the fire comes from within and I am home! So there won't be any weekend just a shot of cream into coffee, on a table turning. Lemme in the mix. Scratch me. Spin me. Put me in play. I can give you what you need. Saturday night seems fluid and I love to work it out with you like this.  --Katya © 2016

Friday, 15 April 2016

momentum. writing process.

You got the scars and now you're seeing stars, you have your vision about you, it's time to write that story and see where it goes, take off all your clothes, undress the wounds. Let them see you. Finally. Picked up the slack and got your pretty self hitting keys with an urgency; that licklack-click-clackallack, riding the train high off your pain, maybe some beats to keep your heartened. What started as a dream became your work in progress.

Now if it's short blast, high frequency flash, sudden or smoke-long, well, you can pick up anytime and push it out. But if it's longer form and you have that kinda stamina, well, it's a momentum game. You will know it when you get there. Another cup of coffee. Don't forget to sleep. Don't forget to dream about it when you're waking. All the time I swear I have it in my head, that WIP. Cause it works itself out, only slowly, with undivided dreaming the plot develops in my emotional darkroom. The container must be sealed, shielded from social media and the drag of everyday life. The fabric stitched together, then torn apart in places and replaced, reconnected to the whole drive, thematic.

The water will be charging you, ionic bond to the vision. Watch out for the dam. When the locks change you may not be able to get back in so easily. Requires extra effort and self-confidence, sometimes. You might break in through a window. Recall must be superb, almost perfect. Next time you get that puppy tail wagging -peeing with unharnessed shaking excitement- take her out to the park and set her free. Stand in the green spring grasses looking over your WIP with pride. Carry the momentum to see your vision through. Let the words take you, and the pain fall, away. By the end? I promise -- the vision will carry you.

Thursday, 14 April 2016

Blogger Richard Gibney's A to Z challenge on K

Just some of the Ks that you will find on this blog

Kari Rosvall: I highly recommend the book Kari wrote about her childhood as an adopted war baby and her life thereafter - she discovers dark secrets related to her origins, and details of a nefarious Third Reich breeding programme. Nowhere's Child is a terrific read. Kari struggles with identity not just of herself but the less introspective, political and national markers to which most people can subscribe. Nowhere's Child's got human rights, social justice, rootlessness, family, the meaning of home and - in fear of sounding glib - it's like the origin story for a superhero. In fairness, Kari Rosvall is a superhero! Read the book! Her co-writer, the unassuming and awesome Naomi Linehan, is on Twitter.

Kevin Bacon, ehh? Need I say more? Yes! Yes I must. Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon can be found here.

Katya Mills: This wonderful scribe writes straight outta left-field in the tradition of Dickinson, Ginsberg and other American greats. But she's also a terrific, erudite and insightful interviewee. Her book series featuring Ame involves a subculture of somewhat vampiric creatures who prey not on human plasma, but on human fear. Katya's inimitable phrasing in her long fiction and poetry often shames me into wanting to write a bit more better. Check out her blogand blog.

Kit Kats: Bite off the ends of a Kit Kat finger, and dip one end into your beverage. Whaddaya got? A delicious filter-straw type dealio!

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: The ends of your KitKat are called #ObesityTips - and a pinch on the lips is an inch on the hips!

That's enough from me anyway!

Tuesday, 12 April 2016


Misha Gericke:  I want to welcome Katya Mills to my blog for an interview.


Hi Katya! Welcome to The Five Year Project! Tell us a bit about yourself.

Hi and thanks for having me, greetings from Northern California! My name is Katya and I am an American with German, English and French heritage. I am a social worker and self-published author of one novel, two novellas and a short story. I was born in Connecticut in February, 1973 and raised in New England. I first left home for school in Chicago, where I majored in English Literature at Northwestern University. I fell in love with books at an early age. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens was the first epic story I read all the way through. I was about ten years old. That’s about when I decided I wanted to write books. I am an Aquarius and my favorite color is royal blue. I support LGBT and human rights. I work at a non-profit with a team of compassionate caregivers providing support to homeless people suffering from mental illness. I work the nightshift now, which seems to coincide nicely with my writing life. 

Very cool. Tell us a bit more about your books. What are they about?

Girl Without Borders is a novel I wrote while living in Chicago. I consider it my tribute to this great city. The protagonist, a rather aimless young man, becomes the center of an unrequited love triangle. The story follows the guy as he basically gets blindsided by love, and caught in a deadly situation. These are young adults in their twenties, freewheeling with counter-culture attitudes, coming of age on the west side of town.

Grand Theft Life is the first book in my Daughter of Darknessseries. This is written in the voice of a strong lead (first person) heroine named Ame. The story takes place in Oakland, where I lived for many years. I like to set my books in cities I know inside and out. Ame is one of a divergent strain of humans, known as Delux. She doesn’t realize she is extraordinary until she is fully grown and her people abduct her and take her to Oakland, where she learns how to channel human fear, for survival. She discovers she can read minds and such. She falls in with an interesting group of characters, including Freddy, the man who abducted her. There is an anti-hero vibe about these ones, and Ame is trying to sort it all out.

Maze is the second book of the series. The title refers to Ame’s boyfriend, a punk skateboarder with an ice cream sandwich habit. He has mixed blood (hybrid human) but it doesn’t deter him from a merciless way he hunts humans for their fear. Ame hunts with him, but she is conflicted by the violence. She was raised by humans, actually, so she has a soft heart for them. There is a way to extract human fear without killing, however, and the results are unpredictable. Ame’s best friend Bless is crushing on her, and tries to pull her away from Maze. This book introduces Kell, the little sister, who is struggling with an addiction to Oxycontin. And an orphan boy with a gap in his teeth who likes to follow Ame around.

Everlee and Lee is a horror story I wrote about a couple of kids who are living in a spooky old Victorian house with their nefarious Aunt Rose. They are visited by the ghost of their mother, who provides clues toward unraveling a dark and disturbing history. The kids learn to communicate telepathically so to hide their thoughts from Aunt Rose, as they figure a way out. This story is published alongside my books on

Ame and the Tangy Energetic is the third book in my series, and my WIP. I hope to publish it in late Spring or Summer 2016.

Your stories sound interesting. What comes to you first? The plot or the characters?

Thank you. Characters come first! I typically work without an outline, a very open-ended plot and a situation / circumstance / tension that needs to be worked out.

Sounds a lot like my process. How do you approach editing? 

I try and get the first draft all out without looking back, but sometimes I can't resist a little peek. Then I move the doc to Scrivener and read it through, make some notes and begin editing. I imagine a puzzle and usually find myself relocating paragraphs and passages several times to form any chapter. It can get pretty chaotic! But somehow my mind knows where to put stuff. Cutting is hard so I typically take my cuts and place them at the end of each chapter so I can reconsider later. This makes cutting easier. I try and keep a flexible attitude and playful. And say to myself 'simple story simple story' over and over again. Betas will be involved after the second draft. But there may be several drafts within the draft... I usually know when a chapter feels like it expresses the story the way I like. I also like to read my work aloud to hear how it sounds word for word.

What is the best piece of advice you can give new writers?

Writing a book can be thrilling and a whole lotta fun. Sometimes it's hard to get to that place. The page is always blank for you. It's the only way. If the mind comes in preoccupied, you may not get the immersion. I believe in mindfulness to bring a quiet mind to the process. Slow it down to one word at a time, one sentence, one paragraph, one passage... give it room to breathe and make sense of itself.

Good advice. Where can people find you and your books?

Here are the links. I have author profiles on Goodreads andAmazon.

My website is Katya Mills and I frequent the GPLUS community.

Thanks for stopping by, Katya! 

Anyone else use Scrivener to edit? What is your favorite program to use when editing? See you all on Monday! (Although I might try and sneak in a few visits before then.) 


Elizabeth Seckman said...
I think being a social worker and having interactions with so many different people help to make unique and wonderful characters (said by a fellow social worker, hehe).
Pat Hatt said...
Getting the mind to shut off and just go with the writing can sure be a task sometimes haha but the writing voices win.
J.H. Moncrieff said...
Hmm...I've never tried that program. I just use Word's track changes option, which definitely has its glitches.

Think I'm missing out?
Chrys Fey said...
That cover is cute and creepy. I like it!

I enjoyed reading about your writing process. I always keep parts I cut in a separate document in case I want it again or can share it as a deleted scene.
Susan Flett Swiderski said...
Nice interview, ladies. It's terrific that both of you started writing seriously at such young ages. I was too busy writing for various volunteer organizations to make much time to pursue writing for my own purposes until I was already an old broad. :)

I haven't tried any of those fancy writing/editing programs yet. Maybe some day... (HA! Who am I kidding? No I won't...)Fortunately, I have a very pushy internal editor. (And she is SUCH a nag!)
DMS said...
So mice to meet Katya and learn about her books. What an interesting interview! Great advice about slowing down. Wishing her all the best!
Miss Andi said...
Great interview, I especially like the advice about slowing down! I'll definitely try that 😉
Rachna Chhabria said...
Nice to meet Katya and getting to know more about her books. I like the advice to slowing it down and giving it room to breathe and make sense....
cleemckenzie said...
I've all good things about Scrivener, but I've never given it a try. Thanks for the interview and introducing us to Katya.
Medeia Sharif said...
It's great learning about Katya, her books, and her advice. I like to think one of my recently published books is a tribute to a big city I used to live in.
Joseph Pulikotil said...

Very interesting and inspiring interview. Wonderful tips on writing. Katya is a prodigious writer and I admire her for her talent in writing. Charles Dickens is one of my favorite writers. A Tale of Two Cities written by him is one of my favorite stories.

Very probing questions which were very frankly answered.

Best wishes
A Beer For The Shower said...
I tried Scrivener before but just couldn't get into it. Old fashioned Word works well enough for both of us.

Great interview! We too like to start with characters before plot. A good character always helps breathe life into the story.
Stephanie Leland said...
Great interview. I love the cover to Maze. Beautiful, and it sounds like a compelling story.

I use scrivener for my rough drafts, because it lets me keep track of daily word counts. Then I transfer everything over to word and print it out. I always do my revisions using a hard copy, because I make notes better with my hands.
Catherine Stine said...
Intriguing interview, and what a cool book cover!


Author Festival - Sacramento

Friday, 8 April 2016

read me from a safe distance

i was killing someone off in my book today. in the library sitting at a table reserved for teens and no teens around just books. it was awfully quiet. i like it that way, my killing floor. nobody would suspect anything. i have been meeting more people, and they aren't turnin me off lately. i almost wanna meet another one today. very unlike me. maybe it's the weather. maybe it's because i got my hair done, my eyesight fixed, and my teeth drilled. i am about to paint my nails for the author festival on sunday. i plan to meet a lot of other murderers, i mean authors. we usually look so sweet at face value. we can take your attributes and turn you into monsters. what would happen if your families fell apart slowly? don't worry. we will put them back together. you won't look the same but you will be made of many pieces and cool to look at like a glass mosaic. it's therapeutic. can i sign that for you? you see my blood red nail polish. go somewhere and read me from a safe distance

Review: Interview with the Vampire

Interview with the Vampire Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The reason I give this book 5 stars is related to the quality and style of the writing. Anne Rice is a writer's writer. I also felt like she understood her subject matter-- 'Vampires' thoroughly. She did her homework and she filled the characters out around the edges within which vampires must be contained.

Aside: [I will never understand how so many writers and filmmakers can decide to take license with vampires, and endow them with qualities vampires do not have! I know its the 21st century and everybody loves a vampire. But this does not give people license to turn vampires into vampires plus, or just give them horrible makeovers].

Anne Rice fortunately, is not among those who have been taking the species to the sewer in their awfully careless treatments all across the media landscape. (The 'Underworld' films are also an excellent example of vampires done right). Maybe I am a bitter goth from way back. Anyway, thank you Anne Rice for doing right by vampires. The others should go and make their own terrible monsters, and not be so lazy to call them vampires, or so greedy to capitalize on the trend!

The characters are interesting. The sense of humor is dark, sardonic caustic. The plots are thick. I did put the book down, for weeks at a time, but I read it twice and caught things the second time I missed the first time around. Anne Rice has sold so many books during her lifetime because her writing is bold, flashy, fun, and colorful. If you haven't tried her and you like vampires, check it out.

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Thursday, 7 April 2016

the creature. single feature

I am the creature hanging from your ceiling.
I live off of Mars bars and yogurt-dipped fingers. I have a companion who plucks my eyebrows and I am not affected by gravity, as you see, my hair does not follow nor yield to such force. Do not be alarmed for you have no defense against me, nor will I harm you. So you may as well be relaxed and enjoy our time together. I would ask only for the porcelain-inflected buttons on your vest (every other one from the top down), 3 good-natured parakeets, the sparkly eye shadow your dead wife left behind  (god rest her soul) and two pots of freshly ground Chilean coffee you may retrieve from the man in the backyard who is watching you. Please be kind to him and assist him in cracking his back, as he has only arrived a fortnight ago after a long and arduous descent from his home in the Andes Mountains. 

We will share the coffee together, you and me, black through the depths of this dreary, dark night. My wings have quite a span so I will politely refrain from flapping in your domicile. There is a key which is lashed to my waist, which unlocks my heart for you. Just be sure to turn exactly 90 degrees counter clockwise, than a full 360 degrees clockwise then 2 degrees at a time counter, every 7 minutes for 4 hours, and rather than rounding you may complete the last click on the 4th strike of the final hour, upon the bell, as heard through the window you will leave open which looks out open the church several meters away in whose rafters I was conceived. Do not forget the coffee, upon your life, do not forget. 

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

the secret life

There is a life inside each of us, call it what you will. You can access this life, this world, by dreaming, lucid dreaming, various forms of meditation, various forms of process. You can access through silence. You can access it through music. You can access it through ritual. Some of us will explore it by conducting our own far-reaching experiments in our own spaces, laboratories, dance floors. Some of us may create worlds to share with others, through businesses, churches, schools, non-profits. Some will find the secret life by the body, pushing limits of endurance. Some will get there in relationships, loving, an affect or emotional access point. Others can tap in with pens and papers, blueprints, brushes and tools. Some will find catharsis in shared meaning, collective experiments, cooperatives. Others will find renewal hanging off the edges of mountains, alone. Teaching makes a microcosm out of a classroom. People reflect off of one another, and understand themselves better. Mind-body-spirit philosophies. Chanting, mantras, yoga, mindfulness, drumming, devotional practices all throughout the world. Reading and writing and speaking out. Time spent alone, in nature, pilgrimages. There is a secret life inside of us, and what's really wonderful is when you can access it and, catharsis or not, it makes you more alive, with wonder, and gives you a reason to smile and smile towards someone, too. Shining like you do.    - KatYa

Monday, 4 April 2016

end of Maze

Maze 2:17:2

Journal # 04.04.17 + Maze 2:17:1

Good to get yourself on 'a mission from god'  (Akroyd and Belushi). Or a mission from the buddha, or just on a spiritual mission. You can rise above this mundanity, all the plastic bullshit we encounter out in the world. I tell you what! I would not even get out of bed and didn't!  For several years rarely! I was shooting plastic into my arm. I was snorting plastic up my nose. I was fucking plastic dummies! I was smoking plastic. I was seeing plastic. I had to railroad myself into my personal mission from god. god was lowercase matte finish and unrefined. god had to be a weed that would drop roots and take hold. god only came when i fertilized my soil with shit! Wet plasticine dream semantics. And that's why I do what I do. Not that I don't love you. I do. You deserve every bit as much higher altitude, greater bandwidth consciousness as anybody! Settle at your own risk. I did and I could not get out of bed anymore. What gets you out of bed in the morning? The answer was nothing. Maybe plastic for a time. Still I decided to live, I don't know why. 12.12.12 came and went, and my heart kept pushing the blood through my extremities. My altitude was underground. So I was an unusual kinda freak and I'm sure I still am. But I was no pushover and they would have to make room for me. I ate my spinach and took my pills, so I could get out of bed and get on a mission. The mission was clear. You see it everyday. You can find me. Right here...  MAZE 2:17:1 final chapter... a reading...

Sunday, 3 April 2016

Maze 2:16:4

from desperation circle to unique and united on a sunday morning

We are robin eggs. Pretty and fragile. Colorful. Me and my older brother. You and me. Our mothers and fathers and sisters and cousins in this permanence come to meet us, this sun come shining upon us, the same light we all share from the birth of every day, the peak heat midway and stumbling through the certain changes, scratches on our vinyl, scars etched upon us, all shook up we are the same.

Being born is our decided fortune
Dying, our collective fate
Sleeping into dreams
Dreaming to awake

Waking into a nightmare only the mind can indulge, only the spirit can turn around, and no one said it would be easy. Whenever I let myself coast, when I indulge easy comforts, my world becomes a run down motel with vacancy. You wouldn't wanna stay there. There's no ice in the ice bin, the vending machine steals your change, and the only inhabitants live on desperation circle. There's cable tv with no HBO and the remote is sticky with no batteries. You have to take the bedspread and cram it out of sight, it's so goddam ugly. Like an unrenovated Ramada Inn in Delaware circa 1982. Don't pry into the corners you might find some broken glass with chore still inside it. The economic disparity, here I cannot hide it.

Can we get along
I need to get along with you
But I'm gonna have to work for it
I'm really uncomfortable

Yes we can and no we cannot, text messaging cause we are too blocked to call. We firewalled one another off for survival. The lines formed on our faces from all the trying to see eye to eye, all of the emotions like waves over all our lives and our faces, no we cannot and yes we can, ground ourselves into it, be there for me and be there for you,  and yes and no and I don't fuckin know what emoji to send anymore... is there a smiling Buddha? And there the colors go, running again like they do, and the white clothes turn blue. And the off whites do too.

The waves break over us
The foam like ginger ale
Hissing. A snake
Trying to stomach it
Digest it whole

The am radio days away in a last quarter rocking chair of tranquility, and no and yes and it doesn't matter how anymore but we tolerate one another, good to you and good to me, fruits and vegetables, oatmeal in the morning, bacon and eggs, spinach, shrimp, salmon, and yes and yes and yes I will share mine with you. We are in the same world, we share the same world, the blue and green one from space, the system in place. Television light slaps us in the face, cool blue like my offs and my whites, too.

And not only tv is to blame
We are all at fault
So let's get over it. Don't you wanna be your very best today? Your most kind and most fascinating and most helpful? I do. I know you do, too, cause we share the same sun. Our spirits can arise and make do if we wanna. The very best of each of us, united, unique and united.

Friday, 1 April 2016

Maze 2:16:3

Review: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Great book. Very sad that Stieg Larsson did not survive to see the success of his Millenium series. Apparently he had a heart attack after climbing 7 flights of stairs when the lift was broken down at his office. This was not long after he had submitted his manuscripts to his publisher. Conspiracy? Bad luck? It feels natural to wanna question everything after reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which is a story about a missing girl and a magazine editor hired by a wealthy industrialist to look into her disappearance. Digging into the family crates will be complicated and dangerous. He hires the title character, the girl, to help him hack computers and keep him loving company on an island where he is housed to do his research in the 'back and beyond' of rural Sweden. Generations of the family he is hired to investigate live there with their long established animosities, in-fighting and secrets. Meanwhile our stud journalists beds almost every woman he encounters (the only part I thought to be slightly less believable and a little annoying) with ease. The title character has her own secrets and a painful personal history, but she is quite wonderful and lovable in her antisocial and eccentric ways; at one point in the narrative he suggests she is a high functioning autistic (aka Aspergers). Her story intertwines with the main narrative, and recaptured my attention whenever the story became a bit dull (which was rare) or oversaturated with the intricacies of high finance (it helps if you have an understanding of business when reading this story, but it's not necessary). The writing is clear and easy reading for the most part. I found there was great action, a compelling plot and characters. Big business is mostly the enemy, in irresponsible hands. I was rooting for the journalist and the hacker the whole time, particularly the girl. Fascinating character. I liked this book enough to have it while I sat in the dentist chair getting my teeth drilled. I was given a few minutes between sessions while waiting for the novocaine to kick in, to read the final 80 pages. One last thing: the author apparently witnessed a gang-rape of a young girl by some other kids when he was a boy, and, according to his girlfriend (who has been fighting his estranged family for years for the rights to his literary empire) this colored his worldview because he always regretted not intervening. She says he was a feminist. This would explain the statistics he wrote below the chapter titles which relate to sexual crimes against women in his homeland. And be prepared to experience graphic representations of such violence within the text. Great book! I may very well go on to the next, but I would also be content to stop here, because the book stands well on its own. Great ending!

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