imprinted. 4 life

These are not simply memories which are recalled to haunt and thrill me from time 2 time, no, these experiences I have had, the powerful ones, are accessible always, and you will find them in the way I speak, the way I think, the way I walk, the way I feel… you see, my friends, we have been imprinted and this is 4 life.

The life (lived) sinks to the deepest part of you, floating in a pendulum arc to rest upon your bedrock, where all is cool and slow-motion, your hard drive, safe and preserved, and takes form of an emanation, begins to glow! The loves, the friends, the places, the losses, our greatest moments and cavernous falls. The rush of it all, and yet resides in us, and when we meet again following some passage in time, you see the change in me, and I the difference in you. This light is not unlike sitting down with the beaten back pages of your favorite book, water-stained and dog-eared, tarnished and soft in your hands in your belly in your heart on a rainy day, deeper than any tattoo.

A song comes along in the cloud, have I told you how it hits me? Any one of the numbers between 1973 and 2017 and now I am all curled up focused in the center of the novel, all the many faces all the actors situating themselves inside the pressure of my blood. The world is one of endless colors then. I am who I was all over again, and it makes me.

It made me so. Made me who I am and for that I am thankful. I will never regret a drop of it, a day, an hour, a starstruck moment in my own endless night.  I may have changed, my dear, but only for the better and only for the best!  I am and we are all of the world which has touched us, though we maybe long ago hiked ourselves right off that decrepit map… we found bypass.

– KatYa, 2017

tattoo me/you

the plot. ecstatic

A while back i was wearin a floral print shirt i bought with a gift card leftover from the holidays, and found myself perspiring through another busy day, what with the excitement of life in this little city, and my sweat commingled with the pattern, the print from the inside out, and the material began to stick to my skin. i tried to tug it away from time to time, whilst talking to people about their problems, then had to take my coffee break early, smiling as i excused myself, when to my dismay i found the print had firmly rooted itself into me, and my upper body was one big floral tattoo, a colorful garden up and down my arms and fingers, across my shoulders and breasts, around to encompass my back replete! i quickly made my way, unaccosted, out a side door to exit the building, and running home from there i had many uninvited acknowledgments and gang signs flashed my way by passerbys, all in the breathless spirit of the life of ink, and finally i got over myself by a chain link fence a few blocks from where i lived. as i caught my breath in a lean i saw the clouds open up to the sun, and closed my eyes to feel the sudden warmth spread over me and fill me with a feeling i have never before known, a sorta ecstatic love! last thing i remember i was leanin more deeply into the chain link, which was giving into the weight of me, the side of my face and body getting waffled, one eye fixed within a quadrant of link. i opened it to see within, a community garden with plots for anyone who cares. i always wanted a plot of my own, beside pumpkins, green pepper and garlic. now i kinda sorta do! i seem to reside there, and they tend to me, watering and cutting me back every so often. i don’t mind my rectangular confines, so long as sun can reach me and provide the ecstatic love, here where the plot thickens, in the heart of midtown, i have lost interest in anything else.

what are we in love

culture. dedicated to breakdown and cracked in the teeth. the splinters are our lives and they glint in the sun. stillness is a wonderful thing and makes sense except when you’re dead someone said. you decided on an orgasm and made one while i read. i was on the couch with milk green tea and a book and a little light stirred in at the top. i like to strand the light so i can sit at my desk and write. undefeated by music and outta control. how could you lose religion like that? so easily. i gave it to you and you took it to church. communion was godly. white as a sheet (is unreal) and you turned it. black was outright boring until the inky darkness and the not knowing where the hell we are anymore. worship black and white and renounce all the colors between. culture. dedicated to breakdown and cracked in the teeth. gone for a day without nourishment. the corrupted water still pure at the edge where we kissed. all the particulate matters and lip service gave us substance. stars in the ocean in the sky. tattoos made us endure made us pure. i don’t give a fuck what you say when you don’t know what you’re talking about is only in your head. comprised of particulate thought. just like me you’re unreal. compromised. but i won’t stand behind you like gospel. no. it’s just my slant and i try not to crowd anyone. with stars were the children with stars. the splinters in our lives they glint in the sun. i saw myself in a mirror in the darkness and hadn’t a clue.  made me me made you you. stillness was a wonderful thing after the noise came, impressed in the froth of a green tea milk sea. i decided on a book and i made one too. i decided on you and you decided on us two. what are we in love.

book review

Review: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

The Girl with the Dragon TattooThe Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Great book. Very sad that Stieg Larsson did not survive to see the success of his Millenium series. Apparently he had a heart attack after climbing 7 flights of stairs when the lift was broken down at his office. This was not long after he had submitted his manuscripts to his publisher. Conspiracy? Bad luck? It feels natural to wanna question everything after reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which is a story about a missing girl and a magazine editor hired by a wealthy industrialist to look into her disappearance. Digging into the family crates will be complicated and dangerous. He hires the title character, the girl, to help him hack computers and keep him loving company on an island where he is housed to do his research in the ‘back and beyond’ of rural Sweden. Generations of the family he is hired to investigate live there with their long established animosities, in-fighting and secrets. Meanwhile our stud journalists beds almost every woman he encounters (the only part I thought to be slightly less believable and a little annoying) with ease. The title character has her own secrets and a painful personal history, but she is quite wonderful and lovable in her antisocial and eccentric ways; at one point in the narrative he suggests she is a high functioning autistic (aka Aspergers). Her story intertwines with the main narrative, and recaptured my attention whenever the story became a bit dull (which was rare) or oversaturated with the intricacies of high finance (it helps if you have an understanding of business when reading this story, but it’s not necessary). The writing is clear and easy reading for the most part. I found there was great action, a compelling plot and characters. Big business is mostly the enemy, in irresponsible hands. I was rooting for the journalist and the hacker the whole time, particularly the girl. Fascinating character. I liked this book enough to have it while I sat in the dentist chair getting my teeth drilled. I was given a few minutes between sessions while waiting for the novocaine to kick in, to read the final 80 pages. One last thing: the author apparently witnessed a gang-rape of a young girl by some other kids when he was a boy, and, according to his girlfriend (who has been fighting his estranged family for years for the rights to his literary empire) this colored his worldview because he always regretted not intervening. She says he was a feminist. This would explain the statistics he wrote below the chapter titles which relate to sexual crimes against women in his homeland. And be prepared to experience graphic representations of such violence within the text. Great book! I may very well go on to the next, but I would also be content to stop here, because the book stands well on its own. Great ending!

View all my reviews


Let the willows 


our past


buried in back 



Leave the path

of light




we could








Let us dig

our toes

in earth





What compelling