rotting carcass of an eighties band

If you dance like i dance you dance rarely and when you dance you dance the paint off the walls. Most other times you refuse to dance, not that you're shy or embarrassed or no fun, no, but everyone at the goddam wedding will dance to a conclusion, while you sip your bloody mary and gnaw on a celery stalk. They will bloody feel bad for you, you dance rarely and they won't understand, and better to be misunderstood than to let them force you up on the B-52's or some other rotting carcass of an eighties band, my god.  The only way you might get me up there anymore is if I were in love and I'm not.

fluffy white towels the kind you find in only the finest hotels

When all the bridges have been burned and all congeniality has been lost, looking at the river you will not feel the same as before, wondering how to cross it alone, wandering, then discover you can swim if you start by floating on your back, belly up,  staring up at the sky, even with horizon with the dying. You must continue on to farther shore, for there i await you, my child, with an oversized fluffy white towel the kind you find in only the finest hotels, to wrap around your dear self, and as you drip dry i will say nothing, just clasp my arms around your neck and lean into you so you can feel your strength and the beating of my heart with yours, in the valley, verdant of all that arise by the sun, solitary, captivated by the life.

Katya at home. 2015

reading backwards

i dont know why but i did grow up in the USA thinking that what was bad for me was good for me and went after it like a turkey hunter after thanksgiving dinner in a secret desire to die. i dont know why but i made it here. where we renounce all that and try to live for the living and its like reading backwards sometimes its so hard. i dont know what but whatever it is it doesnt matter much cause it comes and it goes. i dont know who but they usually love me or hate me and are equally essential if im gonna understand. i don't know when but if its not now i oughta not bother with it. i dont know where but feel safest at home. i dont know how this all happened but i did start over and starting from scratch is the hardest cause youve got nothing to back you and you pray someone will take you for your word though they must be a fool to do that. i dont know how but not without faith and not without help and knowing what happens (and its nothing nice) when you stop trying and dont give in just give up. its like reading backwards sometimes its so hard.

yummy gummy vitamins

My heart feels gummy like vitamins, flexible like you could push on it with the heel of your hand and it would bounce back so you knew i was still young to the faint drip of baseball through the radio in October, the Royals were unbelievably good again and I had been having a lot of contact. I guess I am still young. But I don't see much of children anymore. I think they are a different kind of young, up to ten, still dreaming of the past lives while flying through the air, pendulums on swings. You could push on them with the heel of your hand and they would bounce back. God forbid they might fall from great heights, they would walk away unharmed, all cartilage, saved by being unformed. Not believing in death yet, wondering about the new life. Which adult was gonna boss them around next. That sorta thing... Kansas City was like a waystation back when the most important thing in the world was the goddam railroad and all those guys like Leland Stanford who got rich by it. Even my family lived there, generations ago, and they say fifty or sixty years ago it was what Vegas is now. Maybe I know too much. I go blank in the eyes when I remember ten years old, the pendulum, swinging, believing I was immortal. Really sorry to see the adults go, why cannot they live forever, too? Whose gonna boss me around then? I'm not gonna do my chores. I'm just gonna keep kicking my legs up and out to the sky. Why would I stop? I'm not on any clock, my heart is full of vitamins and I have been having a lot of contact. You can push me around. I won't fall and even when I do, it won't hurt. You can't hurt me unless I let you. Come, let's fall in love. We can live and love and last forever.

Book Review

LINK: Grand Theft Life Daughter of Darkness, # 1: 
 By: Katya Mills          
 This book blew me away!    

-- Review posted by Nefarious Writer! at 9:08 AM 

the author. 2015

normal sucks

 There was no time to have a nervous breakdown so I had to find another way to fall apart. One idea was going numb, it was quiet and unexpected and not violent until the very end. I had tried that method but the end never came. Sun, fresh air and alka seltzer got me back to baseline. I began interrupting my mother during our long talks when she was the only one talking. I started pacing and thinking and talking to myself, which was much more normal-like; there were even five expressions for my face, all of them different shades of unrealistic. I could fall apart that way maybe. By diving into a fantasy. I did this for a while and I got bored as hell. I had begun to give up on ever falling apart in a way that was acceptable to society. There was even less time anymore for a nervous breakdown. I was walking through a strip mall with my head down, depressed, when I saw a dollar store. Well, the pavement in front of a dollar store where someone had spraypainted 99c in blue. I went in to press my luck. Every dollar store has something unexpected that you didn't know you needed, and usually it's not a dollar. I saw them and had to have them. The slippers. Blue, purple and white stripes. Fuzzy and open at the heels. My feet were aching in my usual black shoes with no support and black soles. I bought the slippers and put them on and went to work in them. Everyone was totally impressed. I'm not sure if it was the slippers, or the fact that I came to work in them. I didn't really care, either. My feet congratulated the floor. It was totally unacceptable.

searching

I was looking for you, after the rains came, searching for you in the mist, a cool night in the early hours of the morning. No one knew what year it was. No one cared. You had a smoke somewhere with a stranger, you stood high and carelessly tall. All I knew was it was Fall and some day I will stop searching. I did not know what day it was, in the middle of the night, the leaves were still on the trees where they could play with the light and bend to make shadows on the streets below. I was caught inside a maple, walking with a staple in my stomach. I don't know how it got there, but I had worked in an office too long. There would be no children. The roosters started out from the backs of their skinny throats, it was never too early. I thought I was awake, but when I woke up I realized I was not awake before, and I wondered if I could wake up from this. Life would be easy on your own. No one knew the time. Neither did I. The stranger, he didn't know a goddam thing, he didn't know anything at all. The day I stop searching is the day I die. Hell. Everybody knows that.