(an even newer day)

I haven’t slept very well, and I have slept far too little.  Last night, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I read the
Principia Discordia instead.  I don’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was great fun.  And sometimes it made a disturbing amount of sense.  And all in all it reminded me of the Malkavian vampire clan from VtM.
The clan I’m not allowed to play, because I’m too insane and make too much sense.

Drinking tea, listening to Van Der Graaf Generator, waking up rather slowly.
Should make breakfast at some point.  And then some music.

I quote the message you get when you reach the twelfth level in the game Oblivion;
You can’t believe how easy it is. You just have to go… a little crazy. And then, suddenly, it all makes sense, and everything you do turns to gold.

/pao – 28 sept 2010 – 15.49

(You can also download a rather pleasant .pdf of the Principia Discordia here.)


Took some photos of the dusk again. It makes me happy. One day, I will get a real camera that gets the colours right, I hope. This one gets red hues a bit wrong. To get the red a bit better, the yellow goes insane. But one cannot have everything, I guess.

Tired. Feeling rather alright, and almost a bit relaxed. I’m still a long way away from feeling well, but it is going in the right direction. Being rather confused still, but I am almost up to my standard quantities of tea-drinking for depression.

My mother called today. She was at her mother’s place. I talked to her mother as well.
I was actually not feeling that sad afterwards.

/pao – 28 sept 2010 – 21.05


My psychologist called me, which means that it is now Monday.   I told her that I really shouldn’t go out and that I wasn’t feeling very well.   I told her that I wasn’t sick, and after some talking we decided she should come here.
She has been here before, so that is all well.   Hopefully this was a good idea.    She’s a good person and all that, but she is still a person.   And I can’t say that it is a very good thing right now.   But hopefully it will give me an opportunity to put things into words in another way than my blog can help me with.   So, that is what I will do, for now.

At least now I know the shape of what is wrong.   Or wrong?   I don’t know yet.   I know the basic form of that which is, whether that is something good or something bad.

The rats are all still sleeping.   The snakes may be sleeping as well, even though it is a bit hard to tell when it comes to snakes.   Sleeping rats are very cute.

I just got up.   I am tired and cold, and hope that I will be ready when she comes.
Time to play the recorder and drink more strawberry liquids.

/pao – 27 sept 2010 – 13.25


My paws are frozen.   I sat on my balcony for a while, watching and taking photographs of the sunset playing on the clouds.   Dark clouds high up, broken up by blue sky.   Small clouds further down, caught in the autumn wind, drifting, breaking up, reforming into beautiful shapes.   Yellow, orange, red; sunset coloured…

Tired now.   Paws frozen.
Should make tea, and thaw for a bit.

Less broken today.   Waiting for an answer I’m not sure if I will ever get.   Listening to Van Der Graaf Generator, hoping I haven’t done something terribly stupid.   But perhaps he really owns me to at least be allowed one big fuck-up after what he has done to me?   Who the hell knows about things like that?   All I know is that I am hurting like a rat caught with its tail in a trap, and I need to think.   I need to be alone to think.    I need to be alone so very badly, even if it hurts.

My psychologist said that things didn’t have to be black and white, that I should be able to be both myself and with friends.   She didn’t get it.   She said it was normal to want to be alone and rest now and again.    But it isn’t like that.    I know it isn’t like that, but the words escape me.

I don’t mean that now I’m going to be alone forever and move out and spend the rest of my life on a mountain, cursing at passers-by who dare to intrude on my calm.   I think perhaps she thought that was what I meant.   But it’s not like that.   I would love it if my friends wrote emails to me, as long as they knew that things might take a while at the moment for me to respond.

Yesterday, Narraiao said that she would be there when I wanted her again.   I told her that I always wanted her, and that that was one of the problems.   And so she said that then she would be there when I didn’t want her any more.   It actually made me laugh.

But I’m felling better today.   I hope I feel like meeting people again by October the second.   Because that is when I am going to Angel.   (Although, truth be told, he has put up with me for eight or ten years now?   I doubt he would be much surprised or terrified by an angry and growly Pao by now.)   Besides, if I’m just feeling slightly better, going there might do me good.   He’s very good at asking strange questions and giving new perspectives on things.
And being on a train for three or four hours, drinking horrible tea-substitute and writing…   I can picture myself worse fates than that.

But what will happen now?   How long will this take?

I don’t know.   I don’t know yet.
Fuck this.   I need tea and answers.
The annoying thing is that in this case, I cannot find my answers on some neat Wikipedia page.
All I have is sadness, confusion, cold paws and lots of questions.

I will find the answers in due time.   I always do.
But still, the journey is not very pleasant this time.

I kind of wish M was here, but I could probably not stand even her company right now.
At the moment I barely tolerate my Helpers. I try to tolerate them at the moment, because at least I can tell them to go and get me food so that I don’t have to go out.
That is very useful.   And I like useful things.   Especially when I have no other choice.

But the water just came to a boil.   Tea now.
/pao – 27 sept 2010 – 19.08
(wanting to be alone, but not abandoned or abandoning)


Do I find a perverse pleasure in tormenting myself with my own voice?
Perhaps.  Perhaps I do.  Now I did something, just for my own pleasure.  And I cannot stand the sound of my own voice.  But no, that is a lie; I love my voice.   I would really have loved listening to it if it either sounded like it does in my head, or belonged to someone else entirely.

And still I listen to it.   Recorded, repeating, saying the same words over and over again.
And I love that voice.   I love those words.  But neither the voice nor the words are my own.
They aren’t the words I had intended, it is not the voice I had.

But I love that voice.  I would love to have a voice like that.
But I don’t.  My voice is different than that.
But it is, and it makes me cry.

I should go and howl.

/pao – 27 oct 2010 – 21.01


A short chat on Skype, and I want to go and hide again.  I can do better though; I can go to bed and sleep.  I have been reading.  I have been sitting outside, on the balcony.  It was 8C out there and my paws fell numb, despite the blanket.

I was listening to the sounds of the night.  The trains coming and going.

I should make more food, tea and take my drugs.
I feel fluttery and ghostlike when I try to interact with others.

Sleep well, all of you out there.

/pao – 27 sept 2010 – 23.51


taking a time-out from the stress of social networks to enjoy the calm autumn melancholy, with a cup of tea and The Cure.. watching the leaves turn yellow and red and fall like rain from the sky..

reading through Usage and Abusage again, and finding it very enjoyable..

found out that I have done something strange while on my sleeping pills again; now when my Helpers call, my phone plays the Doctor Who theme song.. waking up to this startled me somewhat.
now I only have two questions; how the hell did I do it, and why?

there might be some more updates here after I have gotten control of the situation at home..
after I have eaten, and gotten tea, and been able to clean up a bit to be able to move my furniture around..

building a comfortable lair for the winter..

the birds are falling silent once again; the summer birds are all falling silent and moving away.
far, far away.. making V quite restless again.

but right now, there has to be rest, tea and The Cure.
watching the falling leaves from the other side of glass.
enjoying the calm autumn melancholy, waiting for the winter quiet…

/pao – 26 sept 2010 – 14.24


I am in less pain today.. considering the hellish amount of pain I was in yesterday, this is an improvement..
to be really, really sure to at least be semi-functional today, I ate more paindrugs, but yes, it seems to help..
the kitchen is almost orderly now, thanks to one of the Helpers; one of those who I don’t have any clue as to whether she likes me or not, but at least she does her job..

the livingroom is a bit tidier, actually thanks to me.
soon it is time for tea and for sandwiches with egg and bacon.
suddenly finding myself listening to Clam Abuse again, and actually liking it.
I find myself being slightly worried over this turn of events.

the snakes are curled up and resting.
the rats are curled up and resting.
the pao is curled up and cold.

played the recorder a bit.
now off to more tea and less cold.

/pao – 26 sept 2010 – 16.14
(“shine moon on the shores of the seas / shine on the distance between me and the last thing I see / let it be me helping / let it be me, honestly / let it be me working on being a better me…”songs:ohia – the big game is every night)


yesterday I realised again that I had fallen into that same trap that I sometimes really look down on others for falling into.. I heard myself say that my work wouldn’t matter if other people didn’t find it useful/admired it/liked it/thought it was fun/respected it.
to be honest, it really scared me, because since when did I like others to give my thoughts, my soul and my feelings value? when did I start to do the things I like doing just for the pleasure of others?
how can it not be enough that I enjoy it? how can it not be enough to do it for my own reasons?
so I decided I should do things I want to do, because it gives me joy and pleasure to do so.

is there anything wrong in that? am I just being selfish? I don’t have an answer to that, but it is entirely beside the point..

when did my enjoyment of having an audience become a need, a necessity for actually enjoying the act itself?

I don’t know, and I really do not care.
it happened, and I caught it happening, and I don’t want to catch it happening again.

I have eaten and had tea now.
this is very good.

/pao – 26 sept 2010 – 17.29


do you miss them already, marrana?  you who are so brave and strong on your own; do you already miss them?  their laughter, their talking, their silly remarks?  not even a day has passed, and you are curled up alone, staring into the empty space before you..  does it hurt, marrana?  do you want to give up, crawl back to their warm laps and gentle hands; let them pat you and forget that you ever tried to be alone again?  have you already forgotten?  are you just living a lie?
now you are alone, now you are free, and you lay curled up missing the ones you left. you needed to be alone, you said. you needed the quiet, you said. and you lay curled up, staring longingly into empty space. you are not doing the things you needed to do, the things you wanted to do; instead you are missing the others.

had you forgotten the pain of being alone, marrana? why else would you be so crippled?
did you just lie to yourself, telling yourself that you could still be strong? that you could still walk alone and be happy. we connect to others, marrana, and through them and through their eyes, their reactions to us, we know ourselves. we learn what we are by the reactions we get, by separating us from that which isn’t us and thus knowing our edges, walls, boundaries.

and now, without their eyes watching you, what are you? do you know, marrana? do you still know what you are? the pain, it is yours. the burning tears, the whispering shame, the painful doubt; they are all yours. do you remember them, marrana, or had you forgotten? had you chosen to forget?

and now, without their hands stroking you, where are your boundaries? where do you stop, marrana? far too soon; you feel so small when you cannot use them and their minds to bounce things off, to run things through. to reflect yourself in.
even your lair feels too big, too barren, like a vast space you could never cross. dangerous, unfamiliar, threatening. not like the small, comfortable, enclosed space it once was.

you used to be able to reflect yourself in mirrors, dark forest lakes, puddles formed on the rain-dark asphalt.
you used to be able to watch your reflections for hours; watch every inch of you, the way the light played upon your skin, your mane… your eyes.
you told your friend of stone and sea that you hadn’t really paid attention to reflections before you met him, but it wasn’t true. you had only forgotten, because you drifted away from it many years ago now. you forgot about mirrors and dark lakes and puddles in rain-dark asphalt when you got your pack to reflect yourself in.
you never used them to reflect anything but yourself, and your pack could do that for you; and so much better! your pack could tell you that you were beautiful, that you were wild, that you looked happy and proud, and you wouldn’t even have to read the reflection. they would tell you what it meant. they would tell you the reflection you cast in their minds.

and it wasn’t very hard to feel wild or strong with them, was it? you, who knew starvation, against the well-fed city-people? you, who could still read the halo of the moon, against the city-people who couldn’t even feel the first hesitant scent of autumn weeks before the first leaves fall? and you told yourself that as long as you remembered the starvation, how to read the halo, the scents, the changes of light and sounds, you would be safe. you would be wild. you wouldn’t be like them. that was what you told yourself, marrana.

as long as you could remember how to catch and kill prey, it was alright of you to let others feed you, you thought. it wasn’t forgetting, now was it?

but it doesn’t matter if you forget or not, now does it?
go out in the forest, marrana. go ahead, go build yourself a shelter against the howling autumn wind! go ahead, marrana; go build yourself a snare to snare the wild hares! go build yourself a fire, go out and find water to quench your thirst! no? you cannot do it any more?

are you afraid yet, marrana? have you forgotten how to read the winds? the whisper of autumn?
have you forgotten how to keep your head high when you have no one else to protect but yourself?

it hurts, marrana, doesn’t it?
now, what will you do about it? will you endure the pain, or will you give up? will you go back to them, or will you endure until you have regained your purpose? your own life, to share with them on your terms, because you want to, but not out of need? will you continue to lie to yourself, telling yourself that you could really be alone, if only things were different? why not find out? can you really survive, marrana?

this pain, it used to be a part of your life. have you forgotten, marrana? you used to twist it into art, push it and form it and break it and shatter it. it didn’t used to be allowed to twist and break and shatter you. but you had forgotten that, hadn’t you? you had begun to think that loneliness was just being you, just doing what you usually do, but without others. you had forgotten, and you cannot be blamed for forgetting the pain, marrana. but you are starting to remember now, aren’t you? the cold, the pain, the fear, the doubt. you are remembering them again. you recognise them, and you remember them. so what will you do about them, marrana? will you flee again, or will you fight them?

can you stand up for yourself, marrana? can you fight them again, break them again and twist them into art? or will you let them break you, again? can you fight them without having a pack backing you up?
can you fight them without having a pack to fight

will you last long enough to find out, marrana? would it not be interesting enough to be worth it?

it hurts, marrana. it is obvious that it hurts. especially when you cannot burn the pain away with anger.
so what do you do now, marrana?

what do you do now, marrana?

(26 sept 2010 – 21.19)



The time here is now 13.37. I am just up from bed and ponders tea.
I feel a bit meaningless, just like this post.

Also, I am in pain.

/pao -25 sept 2010 – 13.37


(lost history)

sometimes, i really wish i hadn’t had lost so much history in all the moves, both between physical, metaphysical and digital places…

so many stories, poems, drawings and diaries lost that i will never find or see again…

all i can hope is that even when i forget, even when the fading memory is only replaced with the knowledge of knowledge i have lost forever…
the important parts of it will be safe in who i am now.
what i turned out to be.

but sometimes, i really wish i knew better what i once was…

/pao – 21 sept 2010 – 20.08


this morning, I had another one of those dreams about meeting Neil Gaiman on the underground train platform. He looked rather lost, so I told him he should come with me because I had tea and food. The world was rather strange, and the day after I took him out to see the strange silver-metal towers in the valley, and the purple man-high mushrooms in the emerald green grass by the river. It was pleasant. I would, however, like to know why I dream about him now and then, considering that I have exactly one book by him (the one including Dream of A Thousand Cats) that I got from the sister of my male or so, a few christmases back. But they are pleasant dreams, and there is tea, and no one dies. So, I’m not going to complain. Dream-Neil is good company, and we talk about stories and tea. One can do a lot worse than that. :3

But yes. Would still be interesting to know why.


Feeling slightly better at the moment.
Have food, liquid and rats. Yesterday I curled up on the balcony, curled up in a blanket and ate celery. Called Kadanina. Said good night, and then I curled up to cry a bit. Then I took photos again. I have almost gotten addicted to photography. Sometimes it feels as if I forget to look at things with my own eyes, because I’m too busy photographing them.
I should write a story about someone who is blind, and who only can look at the world through his camera lens. Because without it, he can’t see…

“Such a beautiful sky!” has been replaced by “Oh dear, I should take a photo of this!” I might have to take a step back and learn to just look at things again. Look at them, and remember that they are temporary. Watch the clouds change colour and see the lights fade away.
And accept them for what they are, instead of trying to capture them in digital form. And again see the beauty in all flowers, all clouds, all lights instead of only the ones that would be a good photography, caught, frozen in time forever.


a lamp in the darkness

a lamp in the darkness

an island of light in the night

an island of light in the night


Time to tidy up a bit more, and to try not to feel too frozen.

/pao – 21 sept 2010 – 16.39
(my truth is hidden between the lines of unceasing words / in the darkness between two light posts…)



there was an election.
there was cheating, and voting papers being thrown out in paper bins, or being denied.
because of this, I walked about ten kilometers to visit four voting locations around where I live, to see that everything was in order.
a xenophobic party got voted in.
a big manifestation with about five or six thousand people was held at the central of Stockholm, protesting the fact that a party of xenophobes was voted in.
at about ten pm a young man was attacked in the south part of central Stockholm, and cut in the belly by assailants who thought he was a member by said xenophobic party…
only that he wasn’t, he just happened to walk by.


There is much to be said about this, but I’m still too tired.
I bought food. I now refuse to go out for about a week.
Probably as well, when I think about it.
Preparing to stay home for quite a while…

/pao – 22 sept 2010 – 01.52



today I recorded some kind of music.
and picked mushrooms, brought in some of the plants.
should be resting.

tomorrow elections.
it will be interesting, and I will be almost as depressed no matter which people “win”.
now; listening to the Levellers, but should go to bed.

and on the third day, ceiling cat fell from the sky…

/pao – 19 sept 2010 – 02.40

Flemingsberg, view from Huddinge Hospital

Flemingsberg, view from Huddinge Hospital

Today I went to a hospital to meet a neurologist. I was afraid and slightly panicky, as always when I’m going to places I’ve never been before to meet people I’ve never met before. But I got there in time (an hour before appointment) and I spent the hour drinking cola with the Helper before he left, and taking photos of the living sashimi (fish) in the aquarium, and listening to music while drawing. The neurologist got time for me about ten minutes early and decided that taking in a Pao was a lot more satisfying than getting a ten-minute break, so I got in early. And she talked to me for almost an hour. In the end she still had no idea what was wrong, but at least she had ruled out most dangerous things, so I’ll probably survive. She gave me clues on what to be looking out for, and told me to contact her again in another month or so if it doesn’t get better, or earlier if it gets worse.

After this soothing diagnosis (“I have no idea what it is, but it’s not these deadly or dangerous conditions, at least”), I wandered around the hospital for several hours, taking photos of stairs and the view from the top floor windows. And some strange paintings. And invisible vases beside the Section For Specialist Psychiatry…

Empty cabinets, sign "Flower vases"

Empty cabinets, sign "Flower vases"

Or like this, closer up… Perhaps it is some kind of test? If you can see the invisible vases, you are allowed to come in? Who knows?

Empty cabinets, sign "Flower vases"

Empty cabinets, sign "Flower vases"

Sign "section for specialist psychiatry"

Sign "section for specialist psychiatry"

I don’t know. All in all, I had a good day. Tomorrow I’m going to drink coffee or something in Kista, with an abban from Turkey. He has been here for the summer, but he is going back home soon. We may or may not meet again, because the world is small and we happened to meet now by circumstances, so why not again? But probably not, so I’ll bid him farewell and I wish him the best.

I want to go and hit a bit at the keyboard, but now when I’m learning the recorder a bit better, an unfortunate side-effect is me remembering that I have never learnt how to play the piano, and it feels like I’m mostly just hitting things at random, hoping to make pretty noises.
So I don’t dare to sit down and try, because it feels like I’m silly for trying when I haven’t tried to learn how to do it seriously. Oh, I love my logic sometimes.

I miss my griffin, my lizard and my kadan. I will try to go to Marrawa tomorrow after the coffee/tea-drinking. I will try to stay at least one night. Hopefully two. But then I will have things to do. The plants that can be saved must be saved. Snakes must be fed. I am getting a bit stressed.

And the elections… bleh. But I found a nice folder today, with the words “Vote or die” on the cover. Made me laugh, on the train and all. Now it is time to decide who will fuck up this country for the coming four years.
Whohooo. \o/

So tired. I should drink tea now.

/pao – 16 sept 2010 – 22.31


there is something special and slightly melancholic about standing in a parking lot in the rain, watching all the cars coming and going (and standing still).. the people in them, warm and safe, cased in glass and metal, while I stand in the rain, watching.. and – as in the case of last Monday – took strange photos of autumn leaves.

there is something sad about train stations in autumn; the grey, heavy skies and the rain, the sun hidden, the trains bodies of grey which has lost all the healthy, bright cheerfulness.. and now they are just going somewhere, going around, back and forth, but they can’t escape the coming cold.

the light is changing.


Isn’t it strange how you sometimes think you know a person, and then it suddenly does something you had never thought it capable of doing? Something you had never even imagined it would/could do? And then you sit there, surprised, slightly alarmed, and you wonder what else you may be wrong about…
I try not to think I know people, because usually I don’t know people, not even my closest friends.. but still, even I fall in that trap. At least this time, I wasn’t the one to get hurt. For once.

Cat has returned into my life. We will see how this works out. He brought chaos with him as always, but I calmed down after two weeks of constant thinking. I have grown a lot in these long years, and even though it is interesting and fun to have him back, he’s not overly important any more. I thought he would be, but I guess I’m secure enough in myself now. I used to love him because he was like I wanted to be like. And now I love myself because I am the one I want to be like.

I am the red-haired girl who plays Go against tigers and sings to the night, with a recorder like a sword at my side. A recorder feeling better in my paws than any knife or sword has ever done. A series of letters, characters, written on a slip of white paper with a red pencil, gently folded and resting in my scarf as if it was something that would bring me some sort of salvation.
(in a way, it actually even did)

Soon there will be winter, and I will hide inside my lair, watch the winter from within my safe haven. Hiding, resting, wrapped up tightly within words and patterns and stillness and quiet and archaic words once again. Waiting for spring and returning life. I will cover my embers with ash and cold dirt so that they will glow – in the darkness hidden – all through the winter. If there is nothing to feed the fire, it must be covered so that it doesn’t burn itself out. But I have learnt by now that it can survive, and in April I carefully dig them out again with frozen paws and feed the flames with regrets and the returning life.

I can do this again.

Interesting books, warm tea, hot glögg, archaic words, winter starvation, still and cold silence…
Paws that take in plants for the winter, save that which can be saved and leave the rest to fade and die and sort itself out for another winter. Eyes that watch life fading, going to sleep once again, knowing that it will return once more on the other side of the freezing cold.
A recorder at my side, and letters I’ve learnt by heart.

And I’m waiting.

/pao – 15 sept 2010 – 18.47