Showing posts with label literary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literary. Show all posts
Thursday, 4 May 2017
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.
Wednesday, 18 November 2015
Maze 2:1:3 -- a reading
Leading up to this point in the story...
In Part 1 (Book 2, Chapter 1)
Ame is basking in the sun on the shores of Lake Merritt when her friend, the apparition named Hendrix, shows up. He is a bloodhound for 'the tangy energetic' (aka human fear). She follows him (with some difficulty). He takes her to a building on Harrison Street. She was here the day before, across the street, and had locked her bike to a street sign but now her bike is gone. She realizes it has been stolen.
In Part 2, Ame recounts the day before. She had 'the thirst' and tracked a lady into the Whole Foods who caught her attention.
In Part 1 (Book 2, Chapter 1)
Ame is basking in the sun on the shores of Lake Merritt when her friend, the apparition named Hendrix, shows up. He is a bloodhound for 'the tangy energetic' (aka human fear). She follows him (with some difficulty). He takes her to a building on Harrison Street. She was here the day before, across the street, and had locked her bike to a street sign but now her bike is gone. She realizes it has been stolen.
In Part 2, Ame recounts the day before. She had 'the thirst' and tracked a lady into the Whole Foods who caught her attention.
Book Two
Chapter 1
Part 3
Tuesday, 10 November 2015
i finished my book!
On a dark and stormy morning (it really was!) I finished -- Maze. Around 6am, after another long night of editing, I had the puppy exactly how I wanted her. I went out for a drive in my Volkswagen in the rain, got on the highway, listened to the radio and spaced out with my focus on the road. I didn't know where I would go. I decided to get off at El Camino Avenue. This road and I have some history. When I moved here to Sacramento less than 3 years ago with my head full of books but nothing yet published -- no job and no car and only one friend -- I used to ride my bicycle from the Extended Stay America (a decent hotel room with a kitchenette, at a fair price for a month) up north on El Camino several times a week. My friend lived about ten miles up the road. All I remember was the wonderful heat of the early summer, on the streets of Sacramento. I was real excited to be here and get my life going in a positive direction. Oakland tore me up and spit me out in twenty twelve. I had not much to my name. I was writing every day, and determined to start self-publishing my work. I thought for sure maybe someone would wanna read me. I had been writing all my life long. I stopped riding up El Camino at all. The friendship broke off, sadly, we went off in different directions. This morning in the rain and ready to press my third book in under 3 years, I was tired and overjoyed. All I had to do was go home, take a nap to rest my eyes, then get up and read through the puppy from beginning to end, one final time. And I did. And you know what? This book! I think this is easily the best work I have done in my life.
Sunday, 8 November 2015
INTERVIEW (Wordpress)
THE BOOK: Girl Without Borders
PUBLISHED IN: 2013
THE AUTHOR: Katya Mills
THE EDITOR: Katya Mills
THE PUBLISHER: Amazon.com
SUMMARY: Chicago. West side. Follow the paths of three young lovers, at the turn of the millennium. Working-class punks and degenerate-labelled 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 a big heart and big dreams. Intelligent, sensitive and compassionate. Determined to make a life for himself in the city. Determined to learn the code of the streets. He falls for a girl, Bella, who has a punk attitude and style all her own. In no time, she steals his heart. There is another woman, Cass who has her heart set on Will. But the love is unrequited. LIfe gets complicated, as Will gets lost in love. Danger, drama, and emotional turmoil loom on the horizon.Generation X. Raised on punk rock, hip-hop and celebrity worship. Raised on high fructose corn-syrups. Pop and pop culture detritus. Raised on flat land, with crazy straws. Wannabe rockstars and burnouts. Follow the tale of youth who live and love large, in the shadow of the generation before them. Praying not to be reduced to culture’s blind carbon copies. Where love becomes power… with tragic consequences.
THE BACK STORY: “I began this story when I was living in Chicago, the heart of the setting. I finished the book a decade later. Having an emotional connection to a place is the foundation off of which I like to build my fictions. I wrote the book mostly in coffeehouses in Bucktown and Wicker Park, and I swear I almost got my ass kicked for using a laptop in a café in some parts of the city back then, pre-millenium. This is my first publication, and a complete – DIY- labor of love. I did everything and designed the cover. (I still do everything on my books, I just don’t design my covers anymore). I put everything and my heart into this work.”
WHY THIS TITLE: I have a MA in Psychology. I chose this title in consideration of BPD: borderline personality disorder. One of the main characters clearly suffers from this condition (and those around her suffer from her suffering from it, too). Just so you know, I do not preach psychology or discuss diagnoses within the text, it’s just a feeling you get by the characterization.
WHY SOMEONE WOULD WANT TO READ IT: The book is character-driven and told from the perspective of a young man who is struggling to makes sense of his life, not always thrilled to be caught between two or more women, somewhat aimless and reckless and pretty honest about it all. You might want to read it if there was a time in your life where you were fighting the tendency toward becoming jaded and/or numb. I cannot doll it up. If that sounds interesting to you, check it out. I do think my writing style is pretty original, but not everyone and their mother is into it, so be sure and read the sample.
Link to this interview: Interview
Link to this novel: GWB
Saturday, 7 February 2015
PUBLICATION 2015 UPDATE
Dear readers! I welcome your thoughts ...
Book One of my new project (WIP) Daughter of Darkness, is nearing completion. A literary fiction. I have been ironing the creases out. Here is a synopsis. My protagonist, Ame, is a young woman recently come of age, trying to find her way in an chaotic urban environment. Her father died in Vietnam. Her mother gave her up. She was raised in the mountains by her step parents. She hears voices in her head all her youth. But they are not hallucinations; the voices foretell her future.
One of her true kin, Freddy, finds her and abducts her to Oakland, California. Though at first resistant, Ame comes rather quickly into the fold. She learns about her people and her heritage. Freddy becomes like a father figure to her. She begins to believe. Her experience resonates with what the voices told her all along. She always felt different from the others.
She discovers her own latent preternatural capability, in this dark land. She makes friends with a girl whose experience parallels hers. Bless and Ame become sisters. She also finds a love interest in a young man of punk persuasion. An unusual spirit named Hendrix leads her to the dark art which is her birthright. She is conflicted, however, by the violence inherent in its practice. Bless and Freddy encourage her in becoming who she is naturally meant to be. Yet she cannot completely embrace her identity. What other choice does she have? If she hopes to survive this culture of fear.
- Katya
Book One of my new project (WIP) Daughter of Darkness, is nearing completion. A literary fiction. I have been ironing the creases out. Here is a synopsis. My protagonist, Ame, is a young woman recently come of age, trying to find her way in an chaotic urban environment. Her father died in Vietnam. Her mother gave her up. She was raised in the mountains by her step parents. She hears voices in her head all her youth. But they are not hallucinations; the voices foretell her future.
One of her true kin, Freddy, finds her and abducts her to Oakland, California. Though at first resistant, Ame comes rather quickly into the fold. She learns about her people and her heritage. Freddy becomes like a father figure to her. She begins to believe. Her experience resonates with what the voices told her all along. She always felt different from the others.
She discovers her own latent preternatural capability, in this dark land. She makes friends with a girl whose experience parallels hers. Bless and Ame become sisters. She also finds a love interest in a young man of punk persuasion. An unusual spirit named Hendrix leads her to the dark art which is her birthright. She is conflicted, however, by the violence inherent in its practice. Bless and Freddy encourage her in becoming who she is naturally meant to be. Yet she cannot completely embrace her identity. What other choice does she have? If she hopes to survive this culture of fear.
- Katya
 |
| Author K by K 2015 |
Friday, 2 January 2015
BOOK REVIEWS
Dear Readers,
I just got another 5 star review for my novel, Girl Without Borders. I wanted to share with you all the 8 reviews - all 4-5 stars - on my debut novel. I feel this is a good indication, and sets the stage for the upcoming release of my novella, Daughter of Darkness, to succeed on Amazon and attract more attention with your help. I am determined to make a living at writing, as I simply continue to write. 4 life! Thanks!
Reviews :
5.0 out of 5 stars Good read, September 24, 2013
Sarah V. Arnold (Baltimore, MD) - See all my reviews
With an intriguing plot line, storytelling that channels bits of Hemingway and Faulkner, and descriptions reminiscent of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mills creates a rich American subculture in which she places her characters--deeply fragile, but living forcefully, and at times, frantically. The read is entertaining and enveloping; my only negative is that is left me wondering in a few places (I won't give any spoilers)--is there a part 2 to follow? Definitely worth checking out!
5.0 out of 5 stars Read this today., October 1, 2013
Sonia M Ibarra (Joliet) - See all my reviews
When you start to read this book - put away your phone, turn off any distractions and cancel the dinner date, because you aren't going to want to stop reading.Growing up in Chicago, it was easy to read the descriptions and feel like at any point, I could have been sitting at the bar with any one of the characters. Striking up a conversation, being a part of the world the author created. You feel Will's frustrations; you can feel those experiences as if they were your own. You can almost remember walking down the street with Will or sitting at the bar ordering another whiskey as you make your way through the pages.I wanted to give Will a hug and a high-five and a smack on the back of the head. It was like he was someone I loved once, long ago.
4.0 out of 5 stars Katya Mills is an author to be reckoned with, November 17, 2013
YusufToropov - See all my reviews
A fresh, authentic, and confident new voice in American fiction. This is not a YA novel, a fact the cover design could do more to get across. Some minor quibbles: The book still needs a power edit for minor style errors, and perhaps a little cutting in places. And the female protagonist's first name is not one I would have chosen. But tiny problems like that, juxtaposed with the feast of inventive, sprawling, muscular, character-driven writing here, are no big deal. Tiny problems just remind you that you are getting in on the ground floor with a writer who is going to do important things. Which she is. A little excerpt to give you a sense of what I am talking about. Excerpt..."The summer was pretty damn hot, but not so hot folks had to lay out bags of ice to sleep on or put their shirts in the freezer, Cheech and Chong style. Wasn't so cold you had to piss on your hands to move your fingers. Everything was bearable if you thought on those who really had to suffer, like the aged and infirm, or people trapped under the debris after an earthquake. Or the people who loved them and searched in vain. Water was much harder in other parts of the world. Harder and harder to find. In America, you had only to sweat and drink and bitch about the failure of another transformer, and wait, and hope you wouldn't die an absolute death or a death out of love, hope any addictions were still in the insidious stages." It's marvelous stuff and you should read it RIGHT NOW -- a) because it's superb and b) so you can say you saw it all coming.
5.0 out of 5 stars Chicago....and nowhere else, October 16, 2013
Aaron C. Stroud (San Diego, CA USA) - See all my reviews
Sure this story could be one from any city. But it's about Chicago. And the lives of those who were born after Vietnam and before things managed to get even crazier. Will's story is hardly unique from the thousands who lived there at the same time, but it is wholly genuine. Told with stunning descriptions you feel like you lived it yourself. From Cass's insanity to Bella's wit, you can see why he felt torn between the two. This is about the "real" Chicago and some of the characters who graced her fickle but glorious streets in the late 90s and early 2000s. Enjoy. I cant wait to read it again.
4.0 out of 5 stars Dystopia on the Lake, November 19, 2013
Arthur W. Turfa (Batesburg, SC) - See all my reviews
A good read.about lost young people in Chicago around the year 2000. Vivid characters amid the backdrop of a large city. Good dialog, but the author is especially good at painting a picture of where the action happens.
5.0 out of 5 stars I recommend this book to all who make giant winnings battles ..., August 31, 2014
sunshine gallegos - See all my reviews
A modern day woman writer of rarity and relevance. Written the sand of a man, a view woman and the heart forHumanity.The writing is urban. At the same time peppered with the old masters words hanging over and in the minds of the characters. This is a story of how some of the biggest wars are won quietly, such as the case of the main character Will.
He willingly carousals himself in a waking ghost world of listless characters, being half ghost himself. He pleasures himself with the mundane and illicit. In the end although he clings to his half life he finally grows enough flesh to decide on a life, however unsung it may be.
I recommend this book to all who make giant winnings battles quietly and with dignity everyday.
Sunshine Gallegos
5.0 out of 5 stars modern love triangle, with enough unexpected twists to hold my ..., August 7, 2014
frank ramon - See all my reviews
A fascinating and well written, modern love triangle, with enough unexpected twists to hold my interest for the whole read. This the perfect novel for that trip in the car or a plane ride or a day at the beach. Just short enough to not take a lot of time and then at the end, it somehow leaves you wanting more.....download and enjoy....Frank Ramon
5.0 out of 5 stars Five Stars, December 31, 2014
By
Thomas Phillips - See all my reviews
loved it from beginning to end! excellent read..
I just got another 5 star review for my novel, Girl Without Borders. I wanted to share with you all the 8 reviews - all 4-5 stars - on my debut novel. I feel this is a good indication, and sets the stage for the upcoming release of my novella, Daughter of Darkness, to succeed on Amazon and attract more attention with your help. I am determined to make a living at writing, as I simply continue to write. 4 life! Thanks!
Reviews :
5.0 out of 5 stars Good read, September 24, 2013
Sarah V. Arnold (Baltimore, MD) - See all my reviews
With an intriguing plot line, storytelling that channels bits of Hemingway and Faulkner, and descriptions reminiscent of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mills creates a rich American subculture in which she places her characters--deeply fragile, but living forcefully, and at times, frantically. The read is entertaining and enveloping; my only negative is that is left me wondering in a few places (I won't give any spoilers)--is there a part 2 to follow? Definitely worth checking out!
5.0 out of 5 stars Read this today., October 1, 2013
Sonia M Ibarra (Joliet) - See all my reviews
When you start to read this book - put away your phone, turn off any distractions and cancel the dinner date, because you aren't going to want to stop reading.Growing up in Chicago, it was easy to read the descriptions and feel like at any point, I could have been sitting at the bar with any one of the characters. Striking up a conversation, being a part of the world the author created. You feel Will's frustrations; you can feel those experiences as if they were your own. You can almost remember walking down the street with Will or sitting at the bar ordering another whiskey as you make your way through the pages.I wanted to give Will a hug and a high-five and a smack on the back of the head. It was like he was someone I loved once, long ago.
4.0 out of 5 stars Katya Mills is an author to be reckoned with, November 17, 2013
YusufToropov - See all my reviews
A fresh, authentic, and confident new voice in American fiction. This is not a YA novel, a fact the cover design could do more to get across. Some minor quibbles: The book still needs a power edit for minor style errors, and perhaps a little cutting in places. And the female protagonist's first name is not one I would have chosen. But tiny problems like that, juxtaposed with the feast of inventive, sprawling, muscular, character-driven writing here, are no big deal. Tiny problems just remind you that you are getting in on the ground floor with a writer who is going to do important things. Which she is. A little excerpt to give you a sense of what I am talking about. Excerpt..."The summer was pretty damn hot, but not so hot folks had to lay out bags of ice to sleep on or put their shirts in the freezer, Cheech and Chong style. Wasn't so cold you had to piss on your hands to move your fingers. Everything was bearable if you thought on those who really had to suffer, like the aged and infirm, or people trapped under the debris after an earthquake. Or the people who loved them and searched in vain. Water was much harder in other parts of the world. Harder and harder to find. In America, you had only to sweat and drink and bitch about the failure of another transformer, and wait, and hope you wouldn't die an absolute death or a death out of love, hope any addictions were still in the insidious stages." It's marvelous stuff and you should read it RIGHT NOW -- a) because it's superb and b) so you can say you saw it all coming.
5.0 out of 5 stars Chicago....and nowhere else, October 16, 2013
Aaron C. Stroud (San Diego, CA USA) - See all my reviews
Sure this story could be one from any city. But it's about Chicago. And the lives of those who were born after Vietnam and before things managed to get even crazier. Will's story is hardly unique from the thousands who lived there at the same time, but it is wholly genuine. Told with stunning descriptions you feel like you lived it yourself. From Cass's insanity to Bella's wit, you can see why he felt torn between the two. This is about the "real" Chicago and some of the characters who graced her fickle but glorious streets in the late 90s and early 2000s. Enjoy. I cant wait to read it again.
4.0 out of 5 stars Dystopia on the Lake, November 19, 2013
Arthur W. Turfa (Batesburg, SC) - See all my reviews
A good read.about lost young people in Chicago around the year 2000. Vivid characters amid the backdrop of a large city. Good dialog, but the author is especially good at painting a picture of where the action happens.
5.0 out of 5 stars I recommend this book to all who make giant winnings battles ..., August 31, 2014
sunshine gallegos - See all my reviews
A modern day woman writer of rarity and relevance. Written the sand of a man, a view woman and the heart forHumanity.The writing is urban. At the same time peppered with the old masters words hanging over and in the minds of the characters. This is a story of how some of the biggest wars are won quietly, such as the case of the main character Will.
He willingly carousals himself in a waking ghost world of listless characters, being half ghost himself. He pleasures himself with the mundane and illicit. In the end although he clings to his half life he finally grows enough flesh to decide on a life, however unsung it may be.
I recommend this book to all who make giant winnings battles quietly and with dignity everyday.
Sunshine Gallegos
5.0 out of 5 stars modern love triangle, with enough unexpected twists to hold my ..., August 7, 2014
frank ramon - See all my reviews
A fascinating and well written, modern love triangle, with enough unexpected twists to hold my interest for the whole read. This the perfect novel for that trip in the car or a plane ride or a day at the beach. Just short enough to not take a lot of time and then at the end, it somehow leaves you wanting more.....download and enjoy....Frank Ramon
5.0 out of 5 stars Five Stars, December 31, 2014
By
Thomas Phillips - See all my reviews
loved it from beginning to end! excellent read..
Sunday, 7 December 2014
hidebehind
the hidebehind
yellow eyes
the size
of autumn leaves
waits behind
a single
tree
wiki reference:
'hidebehind'
yellow eyes
the size
of autumn leaves
 |
| autumn tree by k |
a single
tree
'hidebehind'
Thursday, 4 December 2014
Monday, 1 December 2014
candle light transmissions
Hollow me out
tonight
somewhere far from home
vanish from earth and memory
the dreadful sights
those nights
then set the waxy wick
afire in the cold. the dark
downtown
ancestral
blood shot eyes await
resurgence
there will be no tears
no cries... no wars of words locked up
in dreadful knots
who or
why
it matters not
they see us
they laugh
they cross
our path
the careless
misled and lost
love to draw
a misfit off
the path
peppered by salty
tongue
undefinable so
swims 'cross a murky
sky
tell me god and
goddess where
are we
where
am i
tonight
somewhere far from home
vanish from earth and memory
the dreadful sights
those nights
then set the waxy wick
afire in the cold. the dark
downtown
ancestral
blood shot eyes await
resurgence
there will be no tears
no cries... no wars of words locked up
in dreadful knots
who or
why
it matters not
they see us
they laugh
they cross
our path
the careless
misled and lost
love to draw
a misfit off
the path
peppered by salty
tongue
undefinable so
swims 'cross a murky
sky
tell me god and
goddess where
are we
where
am i
Tuesday, 25 November 2014
BODY. ELECTRIC
"I went with her there, to the heat, and my eyes also turned a shade orange-red; and the poor devil, his focus all glued into my head and my hair, the little song on his breath, reaching out like he was finger-painting now, suddenly struck by the force of heat radiating out from us, and all of it electric. And our bodies now glowing, I opened myself to her lead, merely an extension now of her fire. He may as well have touched a live wire, when he went to finally caress the back of my neck with his hand, dropping his palm on my shoulder. The force threw him back, I swear! Physically he was up lifted and fell back, and rolled down the hill. Jack and Jill. But Jill would not come tumbling after." -K.
Saturday, 22 November 2014
the girl with her life off its hinges
"We found her in that room again, a room with a door off its hinges; a girl with her life off its hinges. She was happy to see us, but her joy was capped off where it met her subsistence. I gave her a long and emotional embrace. Reaching her was like reaching down into a hole, and groping around for a sign of life. And finding one." - K.
Saturday, 15 November 2014
TeASe
" He came alongside me, as I followed far behind the night watchman and the faraway sound of the lantern, steady swinging, as he navigated the steppes of organized chaos, the rows of tombstones and monuments, and graves with no marker, the trees, and the possums in them, leaning over the site; palms hanging their spiked, punk up-dos over the mysterious air, running the water from the roots, pulling life mixed with rain, the nutrients of embedded memories of those who once roamed the earth, back above ground into the winding skinny trunks, high up over it all, so they could have eyes again over the resting place, and still find a sacred place in the sun. " - K
Tuesday, 11 November 2014
Daughter Of Darkness TEaSeR
An excerpt from my soon to be released novella...
"Stay. Stay here with me, with you, with the world. Stil. Still your fears, let them coagulate into a lifeless form. Pull. Let me pull them out of you, so you can stay. Stay here with me, with you, with the world in all its desensationalism. Draw. let me draw out of you that too which you cling, here in the shadow of San Francisco, in this ageless night of Broadway and her storefront theatrefront shining, pimping, fronting, sinning, drinking, smoking, screaming, flowing trade of flesh and desire to no end. Down Auto Row I walked, secretly chewing on a hundred lost city souls along the way, leaving them each and every one not as dust, no, leaving them no longer weary in their ways, some standing, leaning against the brick facades or street signs, tipping their hats up now so the street can see their eyes, some walking, slower now not faster, able to stop thoughts and worries and feel the air if nothing else, some unfolding out of some hidden corner to zero, shivering a little less, realizing that they are the warmth in a cold dark night and nothing less, and nothing less than zero, so the only way might be up and out, so yes, as you watch me fade east into the bright night and know me for carrying you to some neon orange hope away from fear, the time is now, the energy is available to you freely, sons and daughters of human kind, open your eyes, yes, see that it may not be so bad as you had it out to be, and only you can not be a victim of only your circumstance, only you can hasten headlong to your death, only you can make your very next move or be otherwise static yours, and swallowed by the fear strikes you sound."
"Stay. Stay here with me, with you, with the world. Stil. Still your fears, let them coagulate into a lifeless form. Pull. Let me pull them out of you, so you can stay. Stay here with me, with you, with the world in all its desensationalism. Draw. let me draw out of you that too which you cling, here in the shadow of San Francisco, in this ageless night of Broadway and her storefront theatrefront shining, pimping, fronting, sinning, drinking, smoking, screaming, flowing trade of flesh and desire to no end. Down Auto Row I walked, secretly chewing on a hundred lost city souls along the way, leaving them each and every one not as dust, no, leaving them no longer weary in their ways, some standing, leaning against the brick facades or street signs, tipping their hats up now so the street can see their eyes, some walking, slower now not faster, able to stop thoughts and worries and feel the air if nothing else, some unfolding out of some hidden corner to zero, shivering a little less, realizing that they are the warmth in a cold dark night and nothing less, and nothing less than zero, so the only way might be up and out, so yes, as you watch me fade east into the bright night and know me for carrying you to some neon orange hope away from fear, the time is now, the energy is available to you freely, sons and daughters of human kind, open your eyes, yes, see that it may not be so bad as you had it out to be, and only you can not be a victim of only your circumstance, only you can hasten headlong to your death, only you can make your very next move or be otherwise static yours, and swallowed by the fear strikes you sound."
Monday, 10 November 2014
SHADOWING
" I was hot with a madness. I was becoming accustomed to the darkness inherent in me. I may not have been happy about the violent quality, but I accepted it. I was conscious of it. I was not running from it anymore. The immediacy! I could access the power. I could nurse on the fear. I could feel it, I could compel it out of a human with no remorse." - K
Thursday, 6 November 2014
NaNo ExCeRpT
"I was in the trenches of Oakland our fair and broken iron maiden, Cinderella, at the feet of San Francisco, watching her dirty bay waters wash up against her, expected to do all her dirty work and keep her gates golden. Most of the darker minded or skinned people of the world to black of black panthers found shelter if not sanctuary in the dark heart of Oakland, after spending days traveling across or under the Bay to get paid watching over the wealth, running the elevators, answering to someone, serving their food and drink, dealing with their homeless, driving their buses, shining their shoes, entertaining them at night, entertaining them in the day, doing their laundry, walking their pets, cleaning their apartments, houses, bathrooms, schools, offices, and consciences." -Katya
Thursday, 5 June 2014
Atlantis. Times Three.
Poetry from K IS SILENT
written and performed by Katya Mills
Atlantis, times three
i am trying to find myself
between commercials
apparently
i am located
somewhere deeper
than that
Atlantis
times three
i remember almost dying
the weight
was too great
i got
stepped on
like flagstones
I saw you there
we could touch
almost
through our
imperial pints
of tears
drowning
Atlantis
times three
i got stripped
like a stripper
but without
so much
a choice
off the walls
in the paint
in the darkness
the memory
faint
gracefully
i laced up
to give them
something
2 remember
gracefully
i tried then
2 forget
sometimes
i grabbed the knives
in the kitchen
and turned
toward them
screaming
its real painful
to look
i could drown
in it
Atlantis
times three
i found me
by looking
baptized
by watercolor
bled down
in the city
bled out
to the valley
sweet canvas
of colors
shelters me now
the painted walls
i like to
leave them
this way
i am different
i am young
my spirit
touched by
the sound
of the colors
dripping down
Atlantis
times three
is where
i am found
written and performed by Katya Mills
Atlantis, times three
i am trying to find myself
between commercials
apparently
i am located
somewhere deeper
than that
Atlantis
times three
i remember almost dying
the weight
was too great
i got
stepped on
like flagstones
I saw you there
we could touch
almost
through our
imperial pints
of tears
drowning
Atlantis
times three
i got stripped
like a stripper
but without
so much
a choice
off the walls
in the paint
in the darkness
the memory
faint
gracefully
i laced up
to give them
something
2 remember
gracefully
i tried then
2 forget
sometimes
i grabbed the knives
in the kitchen
and turned
toward them
screaming
its real painful
to look
i could drown
in it
Atlantis
times three
i found me
by looking
baptized
by watercolor
bled down
in the city
bled out
to the valley
sweet canvas
of colors
shelters me now
the painted walls
i like to
leave them
this way
i am different
i am young
my spirit
touched by
the sound
of the colors
dripping down
Atlantis
times three
is where
i am found
Tuesday, 3 June 2014
K reads 'Snowed In'
An original Vitamin K concoction
excerpt stolen from K by K
exacted with an exacto-knife
pure-filtered and underprocessed
refurbished for mass consumption
K IS SILENT @ WORDPRESS.COM
from 'snowed in and data-mined -iii)'
Being snowed in had a magical quality. The sun hit the snow and reflected light to warm the air. The icicles formed in and around the rain gutters as the snow melted off the roof. Some large enough to knock you out. I remember kids trying to lure other kids they didn’t like below these large icicles. Keep them there with some sweet, long-winded filibuster of a story. Wendy Davis style.
I often wished for the larger stormfronts to come over us those winters. I loved the early morning moments when my brother and I hung by the alarm clock radio, listening to the announcements of school cancellations. Waiting. Holding our breath. And the incredible feeling when our school was announced.
A blizzard can be a joyous occasion. You feel protected. Insulated. You don’t really know what’s going on around you, and you don’t care. Neither does anyone else. Sure, after a few days like this, you might get a little stir crazy, like Jack Nicholson‘s character in the Shining. The blizzard of ’78 was one such opportunity. I was too young to remember much, but where I lived the snow banks surged to eight feet high. School and work were all called off with a one-liner over the radio. All recreational events, suspended. Excepting procreation. The zoo was closed. Or just confined to your own home.
Imagine, no contact with the outside world. Power lines down. Incommunicado. You lit candles off gas stoves to get around your house. All was so quiet, inside and out. Introverts threw a party and no one came. Everything stood in stark contrast to the usual. We built fires. Watched the light and shadow play. Rituals were fresh and wonderful, except shoveling snow. Alot of people who had become plants over time in their homes (planted by the television), lost their lives trying to shovel their way out of their homes during blizzards. Heart attack city.
With television disabled, loving, mindful family interaction was again possible. For some. Hateful families got to go back to hating. Stress often took a back seat to more significant feelings. What could you do? Nothing. You were snowed in. You had to feel. You got an opportunity to feel. This could last for days! I must admit that, after a while, I wanted the old thing back.
excerpt stolen from K by K
exacted with an exacto-knife
pure-filtered and underprocessed
refurbished for mass consumption
K IS SILENT @ WORDPRESS.COM
from 'snowed in and data-mined -iii)'
Being snowed in had a magical quality. The sun hit the snow and reflected light to warm the air. The icicles formed in and around the rain gutters as the snow melted off the roof. Some large enough to knock you out. I remember kids trying to lure other kids they didn’t like below these large icicles. Keep them there with some sweet, long-winded filibuster of a story. Wendy Davis style.
I often wished for the larger stormfronts to come over us those winters. I loved the early morning moments when my brother and I hung by the alarm clock radio, listening to the announcements of school cancellations. Waiting. Holding our breath. And the incredible feeling when our school was announced.
A blizzard can be a joyous occasion. You feel protected. Insulated. You don’t really know what’s going on around you, and you don’t care. Neither does anyone else. Sure, after a few days like this, you might get a little stir crazy, like Jack Nicholson‘s character in the Shining. The blizzard of ’78 was one such opportunity. I was too young to remember much, but where I lived the snow banks surged to eight feet high. School and work were all called off with a one-liner over the radio. All recreational events, suspended. Excepting procreation. The zoo was closed. Or just confined to your own home.
Imagine, no contact with the outside world. Power lines down. Incommunicado. You lit candles off gas stoves to get around your house. All was so quiet, inside and out. Introverts threw a party and no one came. Everything stood in stark contrast to the usual. We built fires. Watched the light and shadow play. Rituals were fresh and wonderful, except shoveling snow. Alot of people who had become plants over time in their homes (planted by the television), lost their lives trying to shovel their way out of their homes during blizzards. Heart attack city.
With television disabled, loving, mindful family interaction was again possible. For some. Hateful families got to go back to hating. Stress often took a back seat to more significant feelings. What could you do? Nothing. You were snowed in. You had to feel. You got an opportunity to feel. This could last for days! I must admit that, after a while, I wanted the old thing back.
Friday, 30 May 2014
K reads... Black Denim Daisy Dukes - I /II
'black denim daisy dukes' - part I
(subsidized surveillance mix)
kissilent.wordpress.com
i was out there facing you and the world. through a portal i chose. nonlinear travel into the membrane of a postmodern club. on a bright near-life evening experience out. to subdue the indoor perry mason addiction tv blues. subdue with dub and sweat and light and you. to be overcome with the light of the darkness. you night owls, you know. kinda like a blindness toward the runway descent. looking to land. hoping to avoid catastrophe and chain reaction seated screaming affairs. i do not like to fly. not even in my dreamscapes. like some of you. unlike the rest. and somewhat casually dressed. like always. no formality, out there facing the usa big city nights, at this time in recent memory. i will tell it to you as unencumbered as possible. hope you don’t mind getting it raw like this. with or without punctuation, paragraph, or other accoutrements. i like to call it liberated. shorthand-like. abbreviated, but def not lazy. def not. no deliberations. no hesitation. pushing my speech out of the nest. opening another chapter of free thought. typed out. no hype. typed out. no ribbon. no tape. red, white, or blue. untaped, out on the wire. out on the net. without a net. full on frontal nudity. the air, brushed aside. the moon drawing the tide. the tenses got tense. tensile. disappeared out on some plank i made for them to walk. eat shit and die, i said. they didn’t hear the verb at the end of that sentence. they will not. they won’t. and wherever words drown down the slow pull of gravity underwater, they are as inaudible as the world dipped in hyrdrogen cannot be heard. the air dipped in hydrogen. a nice thing. i can hear myself think. i can pause and take a drink. drink the air and its free. like i thought this post was. like i thought my thoughts were when i shared them. like i prayed and hope my life was here in the states. the country. the place i reside. the vip lily lounge pad from the dangers around me. the darkness. the dark waters. giving me the premo. the premium democratic freedom. fuck if i haven’t paid for it! this stream of life that carries me on a plush pillowtop eggcrated fuzzy boombox of elastic sound and fury. i could stand up in the madness. i could leap off the stage into it. i would feel fingertips massaging the backs of my long legs. my caboose would later tell rolling stones in the post show interview how seriously it felt touched. my black denim daisy dukes got backside bankrolled by princes and treated to marigold sugar candy and treated like queens. Singlehandedly accelerated and driven to pole position. all my confidence safely locked up in the muscle. usa club scene.
i was out there facing you and the world. through a portal i chose. nonlinear travel into the membrane of a postmodern club. on a bright near-life evening experience out. to subdue the indoor perry mason addiction tv blues. subdue with dub and sweat and light and you. to be overcome with the light of the darkness. you night owls, you know. kinda like a blindness toward the runway descent. looking to land. hoping to avoid catastrophe and chain reaction seated screaming affairs. i do not like to fly. not even in my dreamscapes. like some of you. unlike the rest. and somewhat casually dressed. like always. no formality, out there facing the usa big city nights, at this time in recent memory. i will tell it to you as unencumbered as possible. hope you don’t mind getting it raw like this. with or without punctuation, paragraph, or other accoutrements. i like to call it liberated. shorthand-like. abbreviated, but def not lazy. def not. no deliberations. no hesitation. pushing my speech out of the nest. opening another chapter of free thought. typed out. no hype. typed out. no ribbon. no tape. red, white, or blue. untaped, out on the wire. out on the net. without a net. full on frontal nudity. the air, brushed aside. the moon drawing the tide. the tenses got tense. tensile. disappeared out on some plank i made for them to walk. eat shit and die, i said. they didn’t hear the verb at the end of that sentence. they will not. they won’t. and wherever words drown down the slow pull of gravity underwater, they are as inaudible as the world dipped in hyrdrogen cannot be heard. the air dipped in hydrogen. a nice thing. i can hear myself think. i can pause and take a drink. drink the air and its free. like i thought this post was. like i thought my thoughts were when i shared them. like i prayed and hope my life was here in the states. the country. the place i reside. the vip lily lounge pad from the dangers around me. the darkness. the dark waters. giving me the premo. the premium democratic freedom. fuck if i haven’t paid for it! this stream of life that carries me on a plush pillowtop eggcrated fuzzy boombox of elastic sound and fury. i could stand up in the madness. i could leap off the stage into it. i would feel fingertips massaging the backs of my long legs. my caboose would later tell rolling stones in the post show interview how seriously it felt touched. my black denim daisy dukes got backside bankrolled by princes and treated to marigold sugar candy and treated like queens. Singlehandedly accelerated and driven to pole position. all my confidence safely locked up in the muscle. usa club scene.
Sunday, 25 May 2014
K reads 'when wishes went away'
Spoken word original
Written and performed by Katya Mills
from K IS SILENT
What i
wished 4
went away
not without a reach
a chase the
beach i reached
barefoot
i raced
i cast far up and down
pacific highway coast
out blurred and rocky
edge
out
to sea
it went
along that maladjusted spine
of shore
i was left
alone
feeling lost
in heavy
fog
sucking
effervescence
of undertow
sweet bliss
solitude
statements
crashing
into shore
fuck off
fuck offf
fuck offff
lashing myself to friends
until
like tears
away from eyes
i pushed
off
i did not care
to see them or me or
what life was
really…
Written and performed by Katya Mills
from K IS SILENT
What i
wished 4
went away
not without a reach
a chase the
beach i reached
barefoot
i raced
i cast far up and down
pacific highway coast
out blurred and rocky
edge
out
to sea
it went
along that maladjusted spine
of shore
i was left
alone
feeling lost
in heavy
fog
sucking
effervescence
of undertow
sweet bliss
solitude
statements
crashing
into shore
fuck off
fuck offf
fuck offff
lashing myself to friends
until
like tears
away from eyes
i pushed
off
i did not care
to see them or me or
what life was
really…
what was life, really?
without what i so wished
i so demanded
life
to be
i gave away
my things
to storage wars
for peace
peace
she proved elusive
she ran
the park
off leash
i chased her up a tree
i would not let her be i
would not let it
not yet
it had to can’t you see?
not yet you see i…
see i
auctioned off
my faith
to educated whores
who bid me down
to earth
the ground
was barren
i knelt i turned pockets out for
seeds from Faulkners yard my
drunken pilgrimage
i gathered them with whisky
down beneath a tree in ninety-seven or was it nine?
Oxford
Mississippi
clay
i found the magic
seeds i did! but
ground was frozen
solid so i fell and
hit my head
like Faulkner
from his horse
a sinkhole opened wide
where my blood once
circulated
seven? ninety-nine or
was it?
my family
just a photograph
my life
fading
silverfish
fast
without what i so wished
i so demanded
life
to be
i gave away
my things
to storage wars
for peace
peace
she proved elusive
she ran
the park
off leash
i chased her up a tree
i would not let her be i
would not let it
not yet
it had to can’t you see?
not yet you see i…
see i
auctioned off
my faith
to educated whores
who bid me down
to earth
the ground
was barren
i knelt i turned pockets out for
seeds from Faulkners yard my
drunken pilgrimage
i gathered them with whisky
down beneath a tree in ninety-seven or was it nine?
Oxford
Mississippi
clay
i found the magic
seeds i did! but
ground was frozen
solid so i fell and
hit my head
like Faulkner
from his horse
a sinkhole opened wide
where my blood once
circulated
seven? ninety-nine or
was it?
my family
just a photograph
my life
fading
silverfish
fast
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