on cycling

This needed no overture

to fall in love with cycling all over again 

like you were ten

#katyamills

life in slo.mo

oil on the chain balance the wheels 

riding they bike round town real slow 

the day long timing the lights just right

you see memories of poverty not all

bad the simple things all 

they had   #katyamills

aka, psi.

pressures got relieved when you
weren't so full of air. there was always the threat
of surface area being
punctured

territorial pissing
this high psi life has
to go...     

          gimme a bicycle
two wheels and a pension
and an endless path
through a forest

girl on bicycle with cigarette

death knell
church bell
she don't give a damn
hell

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.

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...

cycling makes my world

go round

k on motobecane cafe noir

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'

m x memory -viii

By the year twenty twenty-three, 99% of microscopes were melted down and recycled, whereas bifocals and bottle glasses had come back in fashion. And it was decreed that all laboratories be replaced with ashrams, following in the footsteps of a decentralization trend. Anyone caught with space foam running shoes and acoustic instruments got a one way ticket to the primeval forest being cultivated on Mars. These items became highly sought after. The principal objective was not to have one.

There were some (in the future) who could not hope to walk unseen down city streets. A loosely affiliated group of citizens who did not so much ask for the kind of attention they were given, collectively or individually.Which was a suitable regimentality for twenty twenty-four. Legend has them born of loose-fisted, assymetrical, left-handed, lipton teaheads just shy of true north. The truth was something else.

They tend to make a lot of noise without speaking, and move like waves.  Everyone else wanted to tell them what to do, and they wouldn't do anything other than what they were told if they were to do what was expected, so atypically they defied expectations. Otherwise they wouldn't really exist, would they. Ice water was in their throats, not their veins.

You cannot know them in traditional forms of knowing. They have something more intentional or focused, it seems, or something less violent-by-association. Anyone is guessing. They congregate in the shiny bars of the fringe-mainstream. On bicycle hill perhaps. Or in bookstores off the beaten path in the Mission. They have an aversion to snapping turtles and judgments and extemporaneous litigation.

Along with us, they envision a society where the only records are vinyl and photographic memories are stripped and laid out in the sun. But only visions are envisioned. Nothing has been empirically correlated and nothing ever will. The principal objective was not to have one.

Journal # 05.19.15

ncac adventure 2015

When i come to focus on the down and outs, all hell breaks loose and i can do anything. i got stung by a bee while pushing forward to the tail end of 330 miles. i thought he was a shard of glass in my leg. i was racing alongside a freeway in the central valley with a friend. the pain got sharper but it could not hurt me. all the pain in the world i had pushed into a chain. the down and outs where once i was one. some had lost their lives like a roman candle shooting flares out into the darkness. they lit up my world, too. others behind doors for years taking meds, watching controlled light shows until their eyes turned red and their hearts went dim. depression. alienation. marginalization. dying. some of it was self-willed. some of it was not. anger and defiance and blame are no longer the qualities you find in me. i pushed them into the chain which powered the two wheels below me into the wide open. almond and rice plantations here in the Capay Valley. Cache Creek. Cowboy country. I love my country, I love this land. Marysville. Oroville. Sacramento, California. Life is wide open again. all the pain in the world i pushed into a chain. and then i came back again.

Journal # 02.23.15

Life goes it's own way. Not your way. Not my way.  The wind was blowing hard today. On the streets. In my ears. I met some new people into cycling, too, and it went pretty well. I came thrilled. But I would not leave feeling thrilled. Honestly I just felt tired. Rode out with them from a cafe at the base of a mountain, on my single speed Fuji, out into fields of growing corn and pear trees. The wind was blasting. I couldn't get enough air in my tires. Such is life. I did not have a map. Life. I just followed some people who hopefully knew where to go. We stopped at a fire station many miles away. Some supporters of the cause greeted us with smiles and water and granola. I met some more people. Friendly people. My mind started playing games with me. I didn't wanna play. One guy had beautiful blue silver eyes. He was very kind. I realize now I have forgotten all the names except a couple that stood out. Renee. Nicki. Dog. Slingshot. My friend was waiting for me back at the base of the mountain. He was reading a manuscript, before the wind blew it all out of his hands. He laughed as he told me how he tried to gather all the pages. But there were no page numbers, so it took a while to get it all back in order. Life. Makes you laugh, makes you cry. The cyclists were coming home. I put my bike in the hatchback. They wanted me to stay. To go have lunch with them.  I declined. My friend had been waiting for hours. I was tired. It's hard meeting a whole bunch of people at once. I find it exhausting. So what? I'm an introvert. A loner. Let's be real. Maybe next time. Divine energy fills me when I am alone, and I shout out to an empty room. I love my fucked up life. I really do.