into the valley of hell

wednesday 21 april 2010 turners flails

They call this area of Massachusetts the Pioneer Valley, the valley being that of the Connecticut River. It's that for me, of course, loving water as I do. But it's a valley of trauma too, a valley of dirty, ugly souls.

I live here in this town again, as of 31 March, and it's nothing but torture. I chose this town -- I wanted to be with my memories. But it's even more pain than I'd envisioned it would be. I despise these wretched people so much.

I've said before over my two years of journaling on the internet (and on more than one blog) that you won't get new-age, touchy-feely, forgive, forgive, stuff-your-dark-emotions-and-pretend-they-don't-exist prattle from me. You'll need to read other people's blogs to get that.
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read... Sehnen... Don't ask...

~~~~~ website ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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from here on...

friday 5 march 2010 turners fails


Sitting here today, I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to go on with this blog. But that may change, and I may keep going. After all, I don't have a life. Someone stole that.

Next Tuesday is the second anniversary of being removed by a sheriff's deputy from my apartment. Do I need to say that this anniversary weighs on me as heavy as a sea, that grief is how I live, and bitterness? Those are among the emotions amerikans don't want to acknowledge feeling, or talk about, or hear about. But I'm an atypical amerikan in a whole variety of ways, and I started blogging to talk about my grief, and my outrage, and what corrupt, largely unregulated systems can do to one individual when they answer to just about no one. And I stay on the internet to keep writing about those very things, and about who I was before my life as I knew it was destroyed.

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read... Sehnen... Braon...

~~~~ website ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

emptiness

18 february 2010 turners falls

Is that too depressing a word for you, emptiness? Too corny? Sorry I can't find a more interesting word to describe for you what my daily existence is. Sorry the story I've had to tell on my blogs for the last twenty-three months is so sad, so depressing. But I didn't make the story; the people who took control of my life did. If it's sad and depressing to read, how terrible do you think it is to be living all this.

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read... Spite and malice... Braonwandering...
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website link

thursday 21 january 2010, turners flails

Today someone helped me set up a blog-based website. Click here to go there.
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read... Mugsy's book... All my stars...

(tapestry available from www.gaelsong.com)
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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2008-2011, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.
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wednesday 30 december 2009

turners falls

See ya later, 2009. I ended 2008 deeply disappointed in trying to communicate with people on the internet, and now I end 2009 the same way.

I write 5 on-line journals on 4 different websites, and now am knitting them together into one conglomerate website. I've hoped for nearly two years that I'll find people about my age with about my interests, and people who might be just a bit peeved about what was done to me and my animals. But it simply doesn't happen. I go on writing for other reasons now, but it's not easy. Like standing at a podium, speaking to an empty room. Or a room full of the deaf.
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read... Mishibone... Neverending solitaire...

~~~~ website ~~~~~~~~~
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monday 14 december 2009

greenfield

Why do I continue writing these on-line journals, I often wonder. I don't write the kinds of things that people are looking for: entertaining things, things of interest to people 35 and under. So why?

During the long time I've been writing these real-life events on the internet, I've had different reasons for going on. But now I go on for my death, which I'd hoped to be able to bring about myself, but so far... My relatives have no interest in these journals now, while I'm alive: I'm not taken seriously as a human being, as far as I can tell, by anyone related to me. But perhaps when I've died there will be at least some meager morbid curiosity about who this woman really was. As long as I breathe they define me, and I'm not allowed to define and describe myself. Maybe when I no longer breathe there will be a change, but of course I can't be sure.

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read... Lifelines... Lucked out...

~~~ website ~~~~~~~~~~~

all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2008-2011 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.
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anne nakis, or nemo

Saturday 7 Nov 2009, Greenfield

I can't haunt the streets of Turners Falls today, the ghost, the Nemo (no-one), the frantic Demeter searching, and scourging the earth over her lost Persephone. There are no buses today.

I've called myself no-one on this blog, and on another I've called myself sehnen (longing). I'm both of those things. And if my personal archetypes have become Demeter frantic over her stolen daughter and Deirdre of the Sorrows, crying for 12 years over her murdered love and in the end killing herself, it's because of the last 12 hell years. I haven't gone into much of the hell pre-dating the stealing of my family in 2008, but those years actually began in 1997, and culminated in the destruction of my life last year. But all of my on-line journals, whatever I'm talking about in them, give clues to the damage that's been done over the last 12 years.


(resin figurine at www.toscano.com)

Click here to more about Deirdre.

read... Braonwandering... Spite and malice

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