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We breathe life into stale situations. We are often obsessed with creating our creations. We try and listen to all other minorities. We try and not abuse power, when in the majority. We like to beg, borrow or steal ice cream sandwiches. For a meal. We feel the moon the same way everyone else feels the sun. We are not vampires, but we can relate. We love music, and have strong opinions. We cook whole turkeys to feed our minions. BDSM does not bother us slightly. Dominatrix, as common as guitar lix. We will tell you kick rocks if we want to, if you’re lucky. Or grant amnesty, and forgive you for all kinds of disrespect. Compassion is our practice, and available to all. Though it may not feel compassionate, when your ass gets kicked off our wall.

We do not blow sunshine. We prefer to absorb it by our skin. Anti-all-things-ignorant may be our purpose, but it’s not that defined. We tend to embrace those who embrace us. We can be dangerous and kind.We like to reign down terror over all microphones. It’s usually a method of letting go. So that terror does not act out, outside of a show. We may wear too much makeup, or none at all. We prefer an honest face, to one that is sentimental or tough. We rarely believe that enough, is enough.

What makes life worthwhile to us, is not up for discussion. We do reserve a space, for those who never belonged. If you want to find this space,  you can usually start at the heart. Go inward. Feel your way out of there.

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We ride fixed speeds and ten speeds. We DIY , and we do come together. We drink horchata to balance our cultural hangovers. We are skaters. We prefer the X Games to the Olympic Games. We like to carry backpacks all over the place. And less for the stealing than for grounding ourselves in any space. We know homeless and squatters and gypsies, alike. We may be them or have been. We see them in government office lines where we all stand. Or public squares, free to congregate types of affairs. Or protests. Or movements. The point is: we see them.

We work really hard, when we find something worth working on. We tag the city, down side up. We have some fun. Take generous breaks. We watch eachother’s backs. We live alone, persecuted by painful thoughts. We suffer from a variety of mental disturbances. We create an ongoing disturbance in the world. We are the tension that holds us together. We are less than comfortable most of the time. We cannot condone hero worship for long. We own the formerly blood clotted marks, left in doors and on walls. Memento to some punk ass show at some shady dive club or former bowling alley, some brick box now likely marked for death. Or gentrified into smaller brick boxes with subzero refrigerators and double pane windows. And essentially marked for death.

We are indelibly inked and tatted up. We rarely believe that enough, is enough. We breathe life into stale spaces. We bring change, in rhythms and waves. We love to look up toward the moon, at night. We are working class by choice. You can hear our voice. We tag the walls. We laugh alot. We know squirrel and bird calls. We come in many colors, and will weave into our lives and yours. Our fabric is like denim. We offer protection, without abandon. We may frighten you. But we are not really frightening at all. In fact, we denounce fear every chance we get. We denounce ignorance in all its forms and faces, with abandon. Just as we love, with abandon. We laugh, with abandon.

We live, with abandon.

Katya Mills, 08/13 katyamills.com

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