2.10.25

yes I have hopes 2 free the mind from desire from ego and all the attachments really but today I am happy with this free tall single-origin coffee and cash in my straight bet win. a momentary liberation from capitalism. 

#katyamills

egolessness

had to die a hundred times

all within a single day

for what i thought had happened to me

was nothing 

was okay

#katyamills

stop torturing us

Don't let anyone ever tell you
torture helps

Let them hang themselves by their toes for several hours and see how that's working for them. let them immerse themselves in exceedingly high decibel environments then isolate themselves in sensory deprivation. see if they come out of that advocating how torture works. do not let anyone convince you that hurting someone make us safer. incapacitating someone ensures our freedoms. bombing some city to hell is the hallmark of an awakened cultural consciousness?

 Come on, now
 stop torturing us

savage

i like to bring a 20 oz genuine thermos to work with me, full of coffee or tea. i like to bring an genuine awakened consciousness, too, as this can be helpful in tricky situations. one goes with the other; if i go without coffee, i may not be completely with you there, and you may need to tell me things twice or knock on my skull and ask  hello? katya? anyone home? please gimme a reprieve! i am in my forties now and have lived through a lot of bullshit. i know nobody hardly respects their elders anymore, true, but aren't i cute and nice enough to be an exception? if you decide not to show me leniency, okay, that's what my nieces would call  SAVAGE! and then when my sleeping consciousness gets properly plied by your orange roughy, well, the savage will awaken in me from any depth of slumber and i will stand on my hind legs and make myself bigger than your ego and we can go UFC - MMA fighting where i shall take your ass properly to ground.

future mma star?

Journal # only one way to get the rush

Look I am worn down, too, after what me and you, we been through look at us -- are we not friendly now? All the vanity got rubbed off and the ego decimated and sentenced to hang where the public could watch, and really good riddance to the rubbish anyway, now we can rest and work behind the scenes where the works are, the ropes and pulleys, the measured weights and ladders and a train of laundry bins on tracks carrying reels and tapes and costume clothing... where the bespectacled producer discusses the talent with the director while his bloodhound noses about some dusty storeroom treasures and everything smells of woodsmoke and light is coming from the back where metal doors have rolled up into the ceiling so the caterers and couriers can unload upon the docks the goods, look, under my eyes are long crescent moons turning purple in the seam tonight, and the crows feet show in my laughter, as I listen to another stagehand talking about a date went wrong, smoking down here in a bay in the back, where the light is white and the air is cool and far from the action on the stage which would not exist without us, of course, sweet dream, you and me, to file away the old script that felt strange on the tongue, and the makeup made us look so pale and so young, let us be casual and severe, minding our business back here, lending a hand to the horn section of the band, as they parade off the symphony half-shell. Off broadway is nice slice of life for us now.

Journal # 06.15.15

House in Locke

Had some nightmares last night. This is not unusual. I woke up spellbound and made some coffee from scratch for me and a friend. Poured the steaming black brew into some paper cups I saved from the cafe, and outside we walk into the dawn. Same old ragtag crew at the location, a place we go for meditation. Monday feels fresh, especially when you don't have to go to work in the morning. I have had my share of stressful monday mornings commuting to work. Not anymore. Today is my day off. I have the chance to feel my medication while in meditation, and then I read a book.

I don't know why but it happens. The mind makes stuff up and convinces me. Not always. If my mind turns the sky dark and rains fire, I break out my fireproof catsuit. I borrowed it from the spy who loves me. This morning I left it at home. I saw some ember specking the eyes of someone who doesn't care for me. But the fire was on its way out, dying. There's not much to hate about me anymore. My pride got levelled a long time ago. My ego is mostly in check. Life is not so friendly anymore. But it is worth every second breathing. I can float up out of my body and use my spirit as the hammer. Blow the mind up by golden rose in the center of my gray matter. Then approach the day lightly, like my good friend awash with kindness.