not just on

prose (original)

i hardly ever dress up. i was raised in corduroy and cotton. took me twenty years to tear up my clothes. love of a thrift store and all you can find. life underground because main street got old. i could not appreciate anything. until I found you.

poem (remixed from prose)

i hardly ever dress up

i was raised in corduroy and cotton

took me twenty years to

tear up my clothes

love of a thrift store and all

you can find life underground because

main street got old

i could not appreciate anything

until I found you

cocoa and me

cocoa did her nails. then she did mine. she told me how happy i made her dad. she was a working girl and a high class escort. kept in a fancy hotel. SF. Civic Center. i was friends with her dad. Market Street felt alive and dead simultaneously. how could it be? i wondered what life was like. i lost my job and family and forgot how to pray. life was beginning to make sense.

what on earth

a life could not be loved. many years unaccounted for. scratch the whole system. a rainbow upside down. send your colors into outer space. there's no home for you here.

let us walk

religion was boy or girl and binary. this way or that. nothing in between. i was tomboy. i had a spirit. they wanted to catch it in butterfly nets. jar and jam. you were hard and wonderful. not like other girls. let's go get lost together. and we did.

thoughts

have their own life. you cannot tame nor deny them. you can notice them. become aware. go do what you do. let them be. these are only thoughts. they need not hurt you or change or possess you.

11 going on 12

1985. the year of the almost divorce. my brother drove a Saab. you could hear each gear through the hills outside Boston like a soft and warm siren. i was having my first breakdown. witnessing the family fall apart. feeling it hot. crying all the time. my brother looked out for me.

31 (years)

2004. individuation. you beat the habit. the world brand new and you, what will you do? move to San Francisco. the Panhandle and Page Street. top floor of a tired Victorian. walking down to the Lower Haight district and the International Café. getting close to Jung and these books on psychology. wishing you had a six figure deal on your novel. Girl Without Borders. the rains came hard that winter. you didn't want to yet you felt all alone again like nothing gives.

ghostly

nobody knows if you're real. they won't dare speak to you. free to be and not exist. a classic. a dialectic. wander the streets fueled by peanut butter cups. watch them all path back to home. doors close out the cold night. nobody calls for you. grotesque carved faces flicker and laugh. nowhere to go. nobody cares. you lick your fingers to rub off the paint but it won't go away! the ghostly palor is yours. now wander the streets for eternity.

fake blood

was so obvious at the corners of the mouth and eyes. the best kind of blood. the dog tried to lick it off your face. made everyone happy not shocked to see. nobody running for the first aid kit. self-described vampires drank it. under the frightful eyes of wannabe ghosts.

1980 kid. Halloween

Reaching for pulp in the pumpkin. Adults are huge with long arms and legs. Telling you what not to do. Tom and Jerry. Oriental rugs. Big painted doors and backlit doorbells. Holding sweaty hands. Candles in lanterns and long shadows cast by the moon.  Itchy Fuzzy sweaters. Trick or Treat!

only prayer

only prayer draws me up from this lacking, this demoralization. this devastation. only prayer can restore me and my faith in these times.

how uncommon?

how uncommon my love of being alone

is it not

in a world which runs on

society

i love good company

the warmth of fellowship

yet to be on my own i

touch into the

sacred

channel surf

i gave up channel surfing for real life. this was not a mistake. i began to have adventures beyond a static location inside four walls. i befriended a cloud who introduced me to a shady place. i followed the cargo trains with my eyes before i decided to jump one. they were transporting televisions to channel surfers up and down the california coast. i rounded up a possé for a great train robbery. we sold tv's to survive.

October 1996 (remixed from entries)

i ran the streets
she saw me struggling
my struggle became ours

october
cold days under big sky
leaves dead and tumble
pale faces passing

she saw with her soul
images in her head
she painted painfully
bold

while i lay on a couch
watching light
she swung herself over and
into my arms

dropping elbows into my chest
pinning us into the cushions

together
laughing

we ran the streets
we were young
all was told

gone the glittering
gold


-Katya
(remixing diary (1996) entries)

letter to true love (1996)

Here I reprint a letter I wrote (1996) and never sent
to my first true love. We parted ways that same year.
(from my black cover diary)...

A-- ,

Do you still love me? Because I love you and I'm not fucking around when I say so. And to be perfectly clear, to make certain you understand me completely and unquestionably, I want to tell you again I love you, and I have never stopped loving you from the day I met you, through the ups and downs, the varied moods, the emotional depths and altitudes; from the joy we carried, to the coffin of pain we buried. And if you ever want back in my life, my love, there's a home for you in Tampa, FL. I will never be too proud to confess my love for you, I promise, for love is too strong to be fooled by shallow pride.

cocaine (1996)

I found this piece I wrote in script, 1996
(black cover diary)...

cocaine

sweeping the powder
with the tip of the fingernail
composing your lines

and nothing can bring
you back

bend the neck down
let a shoulder drop
turn your head to one side

meet your creation

the tide comes in
washes you away

fade gently into the horizon
behind a cloud

the undertow

your world has
consumed you


-Katya

guided mindfulness

a group exercise

by Katya Mills

Let’s try and get centered for a minute. Okay? (get permission from group). I am going to ring these Tibetan bells to start and to finish. I want you to relax. You can close your eyes or keep them open. You can relax your eyes and soften your focus. Let yourself get comfortable in your chair…

Ring bells

Now notice your breath. You can breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. You can imagine yourself inhaling sweet goodness and exhaling all the negative energy you may have picked up along your way here. Just breathe in that yummy oxygen… let all the bad stuff go. You do not have to breathe deeply but you can if you want. The point is to notice your breath and not change it.

Feel how the chair supports your weight.

Notice the fabric surrounding your toes.

Notice the floor beneath your feet.

Notice any thoughts coming into your head, just notice them.

See if you can watch them and let them go on their way, like mist carried off on a breeze.

Come back to your breath…

Notice your sensations

What do you feel against your hands

Your arms, your back, your legs

Feel the chair supporting you

Notice any feelings you are having at all, try and just notice them

Let them pass by like clouds across the sky

Come back to your breath…

Inhale the good energy…

Ring bells 

channeling anxiety into effective action!

today is monday. i have a full work week ahead of me. i wake up semi-refreshed and with a narrow window to make coffee, oatmeal, shower, make up, and dress for the day. i experience the anxiety at first in waking. prayer is helpful to offset it. mindful interaction with my cats. calling someone i love to let them know i care. a mantra i repeat aloud: nam-myoho-renge-kyo. an affirmation: yes. you can do this. the world is yours. basic morning rituals. i hope not to push this anxiety away. it gets larger as i am driving on the freeway. offset it with national public radio. mindfulness in driving. feeling the sensation of the steering wheel. listening to the sound of the road and the engine. soft focusing my eyes so i can see the morning sun as it hits the trees on either side. reminding myself i am capable. i will do the best i can today. i may make mistakes and that's okay. turn the radio down. i try and half smile or even sing a song out loud to myself. look at the city skyscrapes as i pass through downtown. today is monday. if i stay fully present, in the here and now, it is no different than any other day. i can experience it the same if i breathe deeply and pay attention, and bring my wandering mind back into the moment. i cannot stop my mind from wandering. notice where it goes. remembering something which happened yesterday. last week. concerned about the upcoming holidays. or a particular event coming up. i radically accept that it is the nature of the mind to fall into the past and future. my mind is sensitive. it is trying to help me. it just goes about sometimes the wrong way. gently bring my thoughts back into the moment. oh! there it goes again drifting away. its okay. bring it back. gently. try not to judge myself. try not to judge anyone else. this is all information and im curious. i like to learn. the world is a fascinating place to live. i have anxiety and its not gonna kill me. its trying to help me gear up for the day. tackle all my challenges. i want to relate to it. form a working relationship with my anxiety. put a hat on it and give it a name and a purpose in my life, today.

october

the sun stopped paying attention to our land. we found our way to town by the light of the moon. we traded our apple harvest for peace of mind.  the shades took our offering reluctantly. they wanted our homes and our lives. the cool nights will give way to snowstorms. we can only hope to be deluged and snowed in for the winter. it will be our only chance to survive.

book status three

I am ecstatic what with autumn approaching and taking over this city. And all my heart drawn into the work I will soon drop into play on the market! I am grateful to the loyal ones who have read my books and waited patiently for fresh ink to dry. And excited to entice new readers.

book status one

I have put 50 more hours editing into my novel over the past month. Meanwhile i have been inspired by and contributed to 4 chosen communities across this 3 year arc, to coincide with the journey of the lives of my characters. The Q+ Friends. The social workers. The creatives. And the community recovering from addiction. What a time it has been.

book status two

The plot has finally come full circle, and my 5th work of fiction is weighing in @ 60,000 words +. I can promise you each word has gotten equal attention and first rate treatment. You can cancel your trip to Vegas. Read my book. The entertainment is top notch.

winter

up before sunrise
I was made for the dawn
the wind whips off the lake
like nothing can inhabit
this land

dead air

I cannot stand
dead air

I like circulation

I like having my voice
and using it

not

i was not gonna wait for anything. not for my day to get better. not to get along with you just so i might feel differently

no

i chose to take it and
make it my
own

what's the rush

i will take the day slow
really get inside the seconds
break up the sentence
dress every letter up and down
listen for the infinitesimal
flood of ink swallowing
paper

ohio suburb 1979

some days
the whole circle has come around
to all squares and

the sameness

gloomy unlit days neverending
sad forgotten  beneath spinning
blades of suburban Ohio

lawnmowers

steel coughing up blackness of
winter throat
coat

maybe the moon will pop
like a toaster

glowing

let’s play a video
game it’s better for original

screenagers

kid (intoxicated)

the carpet fibers were springy
under the step you could
fall in them and sit there in
the middle of the
room

no one would make
a big deal you were
little enough everyone
had a smile

for you except maybe the
most checked out of them
thinking about divorce
wondering how much it
would cost

nobody knew you but you
were drunk some too loaded
off vodka and cranberry and
you knew nobody knew

you nobody knew
or you knew them too
the laughter felt loud all
inside you

wouldn't it be nice
if mom tucked you
in already? why don't you
wanna stay up with the lights
and smiles and candy red
carpet?

you know
they know you don't know
how it feels but you
do

nobody knew but you you
were. guessed you for happy go
lucky

space age

i was a little old fashioned
cooking astronaut chicken bones down
 to moondust i
suppose

something to contend with

the crowd measured
in thousands

Boston in October

the
Yankees at Fenway
Park

these games
we play

signifying nothing

look up
see the sky

there's
something to contend
with

i got upset

all i did was give you my thoughts
you gave me yours

am i a canvas upon which you throw your paint?
am i no use to you if i have my own
color scheme?

it hurts
and yes
i got upset