vanish. intact

It was hard to extract a wait and see attitude from a now or never upbringing, and time could not be unhinged. Someone was gonna have to ask for help or take off their watch and throw it into the sea. Maybe he would hold her hand. Maybe she would trust him for a walk and a talk, a smoke and a drink. The fog would settle in at low tide, and you could smell the fish that never made it out. Hemingway's ghost headed up the coast. We were lucky he lived that long at all. There was a secret still intact like an oyster with a pearl. Something about the saline seal along the mouth of the shell made us safer. For in there we, too, could vanish intact.

Journal #07.06.15

The sun has risen again, and everyone has gone to work. I work at night, so I am at home watching the light edge across the patterns on my couch and carpet, and the quilt my mother gave me. There is firework paper and debris all throughout the city. The night of independence saw me at home, drinking coffee and walking from front to back porch and back to front, listening and looking. From my location, rather central to this city, I could imagine skirmishes all along the perimeter as though we were defending our home from invasion. A strange sensation of patriotism crept into my heart as my imagination took hold. For my city has never been on the verge of attack. My person, yes. My character, yes. My philosophy, yes. But never this place on the map.

life of an indie author

Here's the kinda feedback from you, my dear readers, that really makes the life of an indie author so worth living! 

"Hi just wanted to write a quick message to thank you for your amazing book “Daughter of Darkness: Grand Theft Life.”  Last week I had to travel to London on the train. Stuffed down the side of my seat I found your book. Now as I was the only one in the carriage I assumed someone had got off the train left it behind. I had some work to do as it is a 3 hour journey from where I live but I did not do any work as I started reading your book! I have read it twice now and I just wanted to let you know how brilliant it is. I absolutely loved it. Now as I did not buy the book and to show my appreciation I have donated £20 (around $30) again thank you for writing this excellent novel I look forward to the next instalment." Best regards  -Andrew

ran away from home

The man was sitting alone in his apartment. His longtime girlfriend moved out a few days earlier. He had not called off work because this was the only thing could get him out of bed and into his shoes and out on the sidewalk and down the subway stairs feeling the hot breath of the city and wondering if it was god. He had long since stopped feeling sorry for himself and had just finished off the urge to push her into a train for giving up. Now he had the moment of insanity to play with, a real opportunity to change everything, and he laughed at the horror of love and loss as he cut himself shaving with too much pressure on the razor scraping his beard through the soap suds, having run out of shaving cream and too lost in his pain to remember to stop at the pharmacy after work; rather than rip a corner of cotton to stick to the wound he just let it bleed and sat alone in his apartment, careless of the time. Today he would close his bank account just to feel a couple hundred twenties in his hands. Today he would close down his social media accounts and send his cell phone to his unemployed son. Today he would not go to work because what he needed to do for himself today was more important than work, though he could not say how or why. Today he was insane and therefore not in any need of rustling up a tired old defense. Today he would go to Central Park and walk around it as many times as he needed, and meet the perfect strangers, and walk through its midsection, and listen to the breeze in the multitude of deciduous trees loving him by shaking all their leaves. Today he would appreciate the living city, and run his eyes up and down her silver and charcoal straight edge streets, and wistfully smile through his tears, giving lollipops to the vagrant kids who also ran away from home.

Latest 2 Reviews!

Here are the latest reviews of my book, Grand Theft Life. If you like what you hear and are interested in picking up a copy, just click on the title above, and it will take you to the Amazon page. My book has rendered eleven 4-5 star reviews on Amazon, and an average of 4.39 stars on Goodreads.com since its publication in February 2015. This is an urban fantasy novella and literary fiction...

4An Unquiet Mind

ByG Doggon July 3, 2015

Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase

Many novels feature a woman who moves from the city to bucolic wonderland... then learns to ride a horse to win over the rough hewn man who doesn't put up with her cosmopolitan guff.

Mills flips the script then tears it up and brings Ame from bucolic wonderland ("Green Mountains") to the city.

Mills doesn't weave a story so much as switch gears. Ame is hearing voices at age 22, typically 3-4 years after schizophrenia or manic depression unveils itself. Quickly, though, the story turns linear with Ame as reliable narrator. The voices are never heard from again. Ame is Patty Hearst indoctrinated to Tanya in an hour rather than days, by daddy of darkness Freddy. Pages later, a character says, "You're not Patty Hearst. This isn't the SLA." More or less. Ame gives us GPS on the streets of Oakland, a story, some social commentary on the criminal culture, and poetic flourishes. And she uses an inordinate amount of (not-big-city-jaded-but-rather-inner-child) exclamation points!

Toward the end, the novel veers toward words - Mills' comfort zone. One would think Mills is another writer writing for writers in their echo chamber where they only write for each other. On the whole, though, the book is explicitly for a general audience. Kudos.

A kidnapping, guy thrown out of a van with spooky force, party, fight, dislocated knee -- 4 stars, check it out.

5Five Stars

ByThomas Phillipson May 7, 2015

Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase

I love the character of Ame...can't wait till the next book in this series...fun read!...😸

Surgery

Dear friends, I went in for surgery today and had my index finger on my left hand sliced open by a very kind and soft spoken MD while I talked to a really nice nurse named Renee about fireworks, Southern California and waterskiing. Good thing I hit the grocery store yesterday and bought food to sustain me for a week. My finger is bandaged and has twelve stitches making it whole. There will be pain once the numbness wears off, the doctor assured me. I have light painkillers by prescription in case I need them. I feel relaxed at home and though I have had some painful and trying times recently with close friends, god-willing I may get through it with a determined smile and wish everyone the very best. I cannot type with my hand wrapped up this way for the next two weeks, but I will use my iPhone if I must to keep writing to you all my ongoing impressions of this strange life of many miracles, uncommon pleasures and pain. I have to uncover its meaning every day and so my spirit is polished like silver to shine for you. - KatYa 

another song. played out

please
i am already

on deserted ground
 waiting for a swing or a push

i can push myself and
push myself around

i remember the way i treated you
before you pushed
my limits

i like who i was
then i could 

make you laugh
and it felt good to laugh
with you

now i'm drowned
in venom

not so long go
nearly all i had left to give was
giving of my
time

now nothing
can be undone
or done

no more terrible
no striking out
 no leaving what is left
no ladies and gentleman
this is the end of the show
you must go

i got the last issue
a few words chained together
hopelessly

given
gave up

blankets in the winter
piled into my arms

Katy self-portrait '12

and then

silently
smothered

be cautious now!

be quick! i tell myself
be careful anymore!

dear child i am again reduced
or blown up
to revisit

i come home late...
 long after supper...
slowly shut the door
up the creaky
stairs

though i coulda
done some kinda wrong by you
i only did what i had to do
which was hard

nah, easy
over easy
real easy
sunny side up
(dark side
down)

to protect me and
grit your teeth!
to protect
you, too, me
and you

what's done is done
and the recidivist rate
of suffering rises with
the mercury...

not just you
i hurt
too

i am who i am and make no excuses
 i have only so much energy
i do what i can to keep
the pilot lit

i guess
some think
i start fires

but i believe
i build them