A super easy way to keep up with your old pal Katy is to subscribe to my newsletter!
Artist, writer, unapologetic progressive, LGBTQ+ ally
A super easy way to keep up with your old pal Katy is to subscribe to my newsletter!
Artist, writer, unapologetic progressive, LGBTQ+ ally
Creative writing is rough. It’s hard to get anyone interested enough to read what you write. And poetry especially so because so many people are afraid they won’t get it and they decide they are just “not a poetry person.”
A friend called Facebook “an empty shopping mall of an app” and I can’t think of a more appropriate metaphor. Yet, I’m still there...
I have imaginary conversations with other people in my head all the time, and I can hear their actual voices during their half of the dialogue, but I don’t know that everyone’s brain works that way.
It turns out, I am pretty good at being a dick to myself. I try really hard to be kind to other people, but apparently it’s open season on my own self. Read on if you want to hear my self-flagellation over a hike I am planning. I know it sounds ridiculous — because it is.
I somehow got myself into a stream-of-consciousness headspace when writing this poem, and it was a strange experience to feel so disconnected from my own body as I wrote. But I think the end result is really, really good.
More random updates from November, including The Kat Hackett Trio, an art show, and what I looked like when I was 15.
Some random updates and observations from November, including Trae Crowder at the Improv, a really expensive sock, and a new way to stop feeling sorry for myself.
I probably sound like a broken record here (man, is that metaphor even relevant anymore?) but I have been having a lot of Big Feelings lately and writing about the is helping me get through them.
I listened to the entirely of Information Society's “Hack” for the first time in probably decades, and I found my concert “tickets” from 1991 for that show and for NIN’s Pretty Hate Machine tour.
My relationship with my body and with food is super fucked-up. I don’t like to eat in front of other people, for fear they will realize how gross and disgusting and unlovable I am.