SEP23

in memory
of years long gone
entangled
touching there
down with my fingers
my toes
need not be painful
when you follow
where the story
goes

#katyamills

excerpt dec 4 from memoirs

"You would be a fool to unblock if you knew you were facing annihilation."

#katyamills

excerpt december third from memoirs

"But let me tell of the best times for to leave them out would be like painting watercolors in the garden in the rain." #katyamills

k memoir exxxcerpt

 When we fight I can go from zero to one hundred and all the memories of all the fights I have ever been in, come back. This time I was flashing back on Kali and how terribly we fought when we were under some influence. She would come at me with a fist and I would be shocked and try to duck and sometimes she would catch me on the jawline or jab her knuckles into my shoulder and I have to confess it felt good being hit, I wanted to be, it brought me into my body and out of my head where all the bad thoughts were torturing me in those days. We were lovers in these strange phases of wanting to kill each other. It would last for hours maybe days or until one of us acquiesced. and we made a shaky peace because it was too exhausting to keep on fighting and we lived together. Then we could lie our bodies down and watch mindless tv and drink and wonder if we could ever hold one another and feel loved the way we had before, after all the blistering hatefulness. This was twenty ten and I was thirty-seven and Kali, who I thought at the time was my forever, who I wanted to be and burdened with the responsibility of being my forever, was almost forty. We took selfies of ourselves and printed them out on colored paper after photoshopping them and tacked them to the wall of the room where we were staying. We walked down the paths hidden beneath trees down the hill to Grand Avenue and the last Blockbuster in the world, holding hands, to rent obscure movies. I preferred horror and she preferred crime, and the genres seemed to bleed off the screen and into our life together. We didn’t fuck enough, in her opinion, and she held it against me. And the more she held it against me, the less I wanted to. #katyamills

pressure made the river

callous looks in the subways

charitable smiles to pure disgust

the reactions had a range

pressure made a river

what it was. it never started pretty 

they cut through settled lands

fomenting division

still. they reverberated inside

no longer pretending no longer wondering

what could have been

#katyamills

(fuck)

I preferred horror and she preferred crime, and the genres seemed to bleed off the screen and into our life together. We didn’t fuck enough, in her opinion. And the more she held it against me the less I wanted to (fuck).  #katyamills

aeon

the truth. so easy and hard to tell. sometimes it appears instantaneously. or must be laboriously  mined. the truth. hidden from our hearts for an aeon

#katyamills

5 to 25

what a world 

where @ 5 years old you are mostly 

brilliant and when you hit 25

you know exactly 

nothing   

#katyamills

Review: 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.

View all my reviews

Nonfiction #77. subset 444

Tuesday.
All seems
 lost...

steaming cup of coffee.

gloves off.

press muse into paper.

sidewalk @ 19th and F

life
gets better
when
we try