Unnecessary Violence and Ramblings- archiving of my Shadow Work Journals 1986 to present. Sample 15: Jan 31, 1997

This daily archiving series is about organizing and dating my journal collection, as well as acknowledging the self-directed violence as important therapeutic shadow work.


Unnecessary Violence Project Explanation and Sample 1 Oct 21, 1992

Sample 2 Date Dec 15 1994

Sample 3 May 16, 2000

Sample 4 August 14, 2002

Sample 5 June 13, 1990

Sample 6 August 23, 2019

Sample 7 December 17, 1995

Sample 8 October 23, 1995

Sample 9 September 1, 2004

Sample 10 September 6, 1999

Sample 11 November 6, 1989

Sample 12 October 23, 2001

Sample 13 October 22, 1993

Sample 14 April 20, 2013


Today: Journal Start Date January 31, 1997



Sample Pages





Sample Writing

January 31, 1997

Julian’s birthday! A good day, no, an EXCELLENT day to start a new journal.

The sun is glorious and the place decorated for after school festivities!

Meat grinder feelings last night as Mom went psychotic after not hearing from us all day.

I went to Vancouver with the kids and J____ to have a fun family day and hadn’t thought of telling Mom. School was closed due to a rampant flu. When we got home later in the day there were 30 messages on the machine, my mom in tears and panic. We had only been out of touch for 12 hours! When I called mom, I was yelled at by Dad. Mom is now not speaking to me, 

 But I feel stronger today even though I beat myself up about it last night. So life continues and today is Julian’s birthday. Yipee! Took the kids to Science World yesterday – took the tour and bought the treats – lunch at Sushi Box at Library Square, then Virgin Records and Manhattan Books.

February 1, 1997

Fax from my father: [translated from Swedish]

“Nina, I have to ask you to call Mamma. She is still sad. The other day when she didn’t get any answers when she called, she cried the whole day. To calm her down, I called your neighbours and your realtor. The whole thing was a bit dumb and unnecessary. That you went to Vancouver for some time for yourselves is totally understandable. You could have called or sent a fax though. You know how Mom is. She really only has you to talk to and she is used to doing that every day. It is not an easy time for her right now. Her hands and arms hurt all the time. The carpal tunnel operation is not until March, and now – no contact with you. She cries so often I don’t dare say anything for fear of being misunderstood.”

February 2, 1997

I have decided to treat Mom as a special needs case. I feel good that I have contacted the pain clinic. If I am her daughter – be it good or bad – I’m being it my way. It’s the first time where I’m not devastated by her anger towards me.

My letter to the Pain Rehabilitation Clinic

You have been treating my mother, Karin, for the past few months for what is now diagnosed as severe carpal tunnel syndrome. I realize that you may not discuss her case without consent, but I wanted to write you a letter to fill you in on aspects of her life she is most likely unwilling to share. She is an extremely private person, I know the embarrassment  she would feel about my sharing my concerns. 

I am very impressed by the team working with my mother, but I am saddened that she is refusing to deal with the psychological aspects of her disorder. My mother has had bouts of depressions before, and needless to say, her present hardships have led to another onset. She has dealt with her depressions and pain (arthritis, migraine) with Tylenol 1 (takes daily for many years, at some count 50/day) and alcohol. This is done secretively and silently. She now gets little or no sleep, which is now appearing to incapacitate her. She cries readily and easily, feels a loss of control over her (grown) children and her life. 

Sample Drawing


Sample Quote

“Despite the unmistakable resentment she could feel from her mother, Nina could not fathom what she had done wrong.” – Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting


There is one moment in Pippi Longstocking that nailed it for me…

As a child, I desperately searched for characters in books that aligned with my anxious outward ways and my happy reclusive interior.  Charlie Brown came close, but he was always seeking connection.  I was seeking alone time.  Like Charlie, school terrified and exhausted me.  Home, my room, my books were my calming tools.  I found many characters (especially in Astrid Lindgren’s works– like Lotta, Emil, Pippi) that I looked up to for their passion, ability to express anger, for their independent spirits.

There is one moment, however, in Pippi Longstocking that nailed it for me- when I felt Pippi and I were aligned- and I would read that scene over and over again. To this day, think about it often, and connect with it even more.



Annika was standing at the window of their room in pink pyjamas, looking over toward Villa Villekulla.  “Look, I see Pippi!” she called out, delighted.

Tommy rushed over to the window too.  Yes, there she was.  Now that the trees didn’t have any leaves they could look right into Pippi’s kitchen.

Pippi was sitting at the table with her head propped against her arms.  She was staring at the little flickering flames of a candle that was standing in front of her.  She seemed to be dreaming.

“She– she looks so alone,” said Annika, and her voice trembled a little.  “Oh, Tommy, of it were only morning do that we could go to her right away!”

They stood there in silence and looked out into the winter night.  The stars shining over Villa Villekula’s roof.  Pippi was inside.  She would always be there.  That was a comforting thought…

… And the most wonderful, comforting thought was that Pippi would always be in Villa Villekulla.

“If she would only look in this direction we could wave at her,” said Tommy.

But Pippi continued to stare straight ahead with a dreamy look.  Then she blew out the light. 

– Astrid Lindgren, Pippi in the South Seas (translated by Gerry Bothmer)


See also:

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I get this ways sometimes.

Ever get this way? Staring at your to do list, and not moving?

Feels like a slow bleed, but the blood is flowing backwards causing a brain sting.


I get this ways sometimes. Trying to figure out too many things and struggling with feeling useless and unproductive, even strangely irresponsible, yet knowing I deserve just some time to stop.  Especially at this stage in my life.

It’s ok.

My overactive, stinging mind and my weary heart compete for who can most distract me from simply celebrating self.  Being responsible for just myself.

Tonight, I sit a little stunned, knowing I need to make some seemingly big shifts.

But maybe the shifts can be big through small steps?

If I am not going to catch up on reporting tonight, I can at least answer one email from an anxious student.

If I am not working research materials tonight, I can at least watch Escape from Dannemora.

If I am not going to work on the screenplay tonight, then I should simply just write something, anything.  Like this blog entry.

If I am not going to work on the illustration project that I need to get finished this week, I must at least sew on a drawing.


If I am not setting up inquiry meetings about career shifts, I can check in with my vision boards.



And trust.





Potato Nose Diaries (1977): Instalment 7- Grad and the Party



Previously on PND:

Instalment 1: Introduction

Instalment 2: The First Entries

Instalment 3: Do Tendu Jetés en Balance

Instalment 4: Sex Education

Instalment 5: They Don’t Know What It Is

Potato Nose Diaries (1977) Short: I am 15 now

Potato Nose Diaries (1977) Short: The Audition

Instalment 6: The Trip to Paris

Potato Nose Diaries (1977) Short: Steven

Instalment 7:

This instalment is enhanced when accompanied by:


© Katarina Thorsen 2018

Saudade waves.

Saudade describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves.  It often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing will never return.  It’s related to the feelings of longing, yearning.  

I have written about Saudade before.  For example: November 3, 2012 SAUDADE: THE EMOTION OF MISSING. #GRIEF





I felt a tad out of sorts this afternoon, burnt out– sensing the spaces under my wings too occupied, knowing it is time to shush out those taking shelter there.  [Yep- time for new boundaries.]

My anxiety hovered trying to find a place to land.  Then a familiar intense wave of suadade washed over me.


It is that thick-heart feeling right before a deep cry.  It is a longing to visit times past.

Pulling out old photos provided comfort and allowed gentle tears to flow.  I sat all smiling, conversing with the memories.








Thank goodness my father loved to record family life.  And thank goodness for these massive albums and boxes of tactile images .

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain… Birds, metaphors, graphic novel, experiments

Cover test c

Central to my graphic novel is the intensity of anxiety and severe depression while drowning in circumstance, highlighted through the metaphor of birds.

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Here are some experiments from the past weekend:

Drawing on a vintage Life Magazine page (Nov 3, 1947)
Drawing on a vintage Life Magazine page (Nov 3, 1947)



I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, 

And Mourners to and fro…

– Emily Dickinson

“Here, at the age of 39, I began to be old…”

I revisited Brideshead Revisited last night and was struck, more deeply than usual, by Waugh’s opening line:

“Here, at the age of 39, I began to be old…”

Why did this opening line stand out?  I’ve been trying to find the right quote, the right words to help me reflect on my current dip into anxiety after the vulnerability hangover took over a while back.  It’s not letting up.

My body has rebelled, or more accurately, my chakras are screaming!  Or even more accurately, or what comforts me to focus on, is that my sacral and throat chakras are in dire need of attention apparently!

My lower back was thrown out last Friday and refuses to ease.  Ah, it’s the old dance injury, familiar worries about money, embracing transitions, change, re-experiencing triggers.  And my old wound is acting up (an old left parotid gland/facial nerve tumor issue)- so scratching my left ear feels like I’m scratching my cheek.  Running my tongue along my upper teeth on the left side, pausing at the missing tooth, is interpreted as my lower jaw.  It’s all familiar.  It’s nothing new.  Benign.  But important.  Just old friends encouraging me to pay attention.

So why does the Waugh quote feel like the right words?  

“Here, at the age of 39, I began to be old…”

What does it have to do with aches and pains and anxiety?

The quote brought me right back to my 39th birthday, when I began to be old.  It was the turning point.  I experienced an intense, earth-shattering betrayal.  The wound was deep, great, painful.  It was different from other losses and experiences.  It attacked the very core where my innocent inner self was housed.

When a strong trigger strikes now, it opens that wound in the heart.

It’s a falling back into darkness.  It’s the place I am forced to go, to huddle and shake and decide how to utilize this in my personal journey.

On my 39th birthday, truth came out and I was exposed.  

Vulnerable, raw.  I began to be old.   Of course, so much more has happened before and since, but that experience stands out as the turning point into adulthood.

It fascinates me that as I look back on my journals and see where my anxiety/depression is at its height (or my energy at its lowest if you will)- it is after I have been exposed.  Or am exposing myself to the world.

Risking.  Risking failure.  Thus the vulnerability hangover.

Recall posts:

ANX·I·E·TY /ANGˈZĪ-ITĒ/ August 20, 2011

DIH-PRESH-UHN November 13, 2011

We all struggle.  And I send out love to all who are struggling right now.  

Check out articles shared on FB:

Thank you, Patti, for this one:

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Thank you, Margot, for this one:

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And so…

There, at the age of 39, I began to be old.

And I have journeyed through.  I accept my struggles, accept that life is a rollercoaster of triggers and emotions.  But I am HERE.  Strong, vulnerable, able, fragile, triggered, achy, anxious, a woman trying her best, a very very human being.

What do I do with all this info, lessons, tools, self-care, evaluations, experiences, wisdom etc.?

Well, here, at the age of 53, I decide I am wise.  And ready.

Yes, today is a new day.  I’ll wrap up the old wounds.  Lengthen my spine, listen to the birds, and revel in the theme of of this month [thepowerpath.com].

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Frida Kahlo and Bird
Frida and the Robin [a personal art therapy tool is to pick up a china marker and simply draw out the anxiety]
 Recall: Pay Attention to the Birds: American Robin

The robin brings a fresh new perspective to situations that are otherwise foggy and unclear. Try calling on robin energy for clarity when your judgement is clouded or when you need light shed on an issue.

The red robin reminds us it’s time to shake the sleepiness out of our head (both figuratively and literally), get alert, get moving, and start enjoying life! Spring has sprung, tides have turned, and no matter how crummy or grey our world has been it is time for new beginnings! Enjoy the bright road ahead because it’s only going to get brighter! [source]

Reminder: the purpose of the design is to unsettle the bee…

I am about to embark on a very personal journey revisiting a time in my past I need to process in depths in order to fully move forward into the next chapter in my life.  I’ll share more about that later.  Until then, I will revisit an old post on the bee and its relationship with anxiety- a good reminder for all of us!


ANXIETY is part of life.  It can beneficial.  It can hinder.  When I am overwhelmed by it, to the point of distracting me from enjoying my life and making it hard to live in gratitude,  I pull out my copy of A Slender Thread- rediscovering hope at the heart of crisis by Annie Dillard and read the following quote.

The purpose of the design is to unsettle the bee…

Copy this quote down in your journal.  Refer to it time and time again and I trust you will find solace in it too.


One rarely notices the uncertainty of the bee, wallowing and sliding, or how flower petals are delicately balanced so that they will appear firm, but waver and flex suddenly without actually breaking off.  The purpose of the design is to unsettle the bee.

The purpose of the design is to unsettle the bee, I remind myself.  The bee isn’t supposed to be comfortable, secure, or happy, it’s supposed to get smeared with pollen- whether or not the bee suffers is irrelevant.  So it goes with the evolution of anxiety, worry, grief, depression, and other states of emotional distress…

Shedding the centuries, falling backward down a time well, I picture the small bands of humans from whom everyone on earth descended.  Our terrors are their terrors, our hungers their hungers, our pleasure their pleasures, our worry their worry.  We speak the same emotional language.  Only the details have changed, as our vocabulary evolved to cope with everyday life, but our emotional grammar did not.  We carry many of the same psychic burdens, only the satchels are differenent, how we fill them, and where we lay them down.  We’re prepared for their world, not ours, and the strain doesn’t begin to describe how emotionally off-balance, misfit, and cramped we sometimes feel, as we try to improvise with outmoded tools.   – Diane Ackerman

Ackerman, D. (1997) A Slender Thread- rediscovering hope at the heart of crisis, New York, NY: Vintage Books


I am thankful for the unsettling irritation that forces me to keep moving forward!

I want to take your secrets public. I want to burn down the distance between us. #Journalexercise.

She's filled with secrets. Where we're from, the birds sing a pretty song, and there's always music in the air. - Twin Peaks
She’s filled with secrets. Where we’re from, the birds sing a pretty song, and there’s always music in the air. – Twin Peaks

I have found that by being honest with my audience, I can be honest with myself and also forgive myself for imperfections- or more accurately, celebrate my imperfections.  By acknowledging secrets I can ask for help.

I want to take your secrets public.  I want to burn down the distance between us.  I want to give you breath.  – James Ellroy, My Dark Places

Today we revisit an old journal exercise.  Post Card Secrets.

Here’s a good template for your exercise:

On postcard write a secret [or many] about yourself.  Something so secretive, you’d feel really uncomfortable sharing it with the world.  Write it out.  You don’t need to show it to anyone.  It’s your choice.  Be brave.


Glue the written side down in your journal.  The secret is there- but it’s simmering underneath.

Then on the message side, write a message to the world.  

Protected by my bolita shawl, drenched with my tears. – Frida Kahlo



PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard.



Fear and resistance on a Monday morning. #Journal


The more scared we are of a work or a calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.

~ The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

I am answering a call.  More on that soon.

Yet still I struggle with the same old anxieties around money.  I am taking steps, mind you, but my anticipated financial overhaul/debt consolidation will be “delayed” for a few months as I wait until late Spring for the value of my home to increase to make the overhaul have any significant significance.  I say “delayed” with quotation marks for I sense I use that word because a voice in me constantly “encourages” me (annoyingly) to avoid taking any other action now that is just as helpful as a financial overhaul.   

But I cannot delay any longer! I’ve said it beforeOnly by accepting that all is ok in this moment, no matter where all the accounts stand, can I weigh those options, make bold moves, and ALLOW CHANGE.  It’s time to manage the moola…

But what I have done now, that is different from before, is that I have accepted to REALLY ACKNOWLEDGE what steps I need to take to allow for more income by following the direction of where my soul flows– the soul-lifting areas with incredible expansion potential- and to move away from the areas where I am only treading water and losing energy because of it.


I am too old to not take the “risk,” to not answer the call and to not give these opportunities I find myself in everything they deserve.  IT’S TIME.  These new opportunities deserve my FULL ME.

[Resistance is] any act which disdains short-term gratification in favor of long-term growth, health or integrity. Or, expressed another way, any act that derives from our higher nature instead of our lower. Any act of these types will elicit Resistance.

The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

And I embrace that, despite the tendency of being hard on myself for being in the struggle, EVERYTHING I have experienced to this point is actually empowering me!

EVERYTHING.  The shit and the sunshine, as my Dad would say.

So what am I actually feeling when I am fearing?  Fear is just old triggers reminding me of getting report cards in school and feeling judged and feeling stupid and never good enough.  Fear is just the increased blood pressure pushing blood through my veins a little faster.


Fear is my heart beating loudly, stuck at the starter gate [resistance], desperate for the signal to break free and RUN!

Well I howl now!



Out of the starter gate.  Jumping off the cliff. Forming wings on the way down.

Beautiful and free.  And fearless.  Created by my nephew Henrik during his summer holiday. Age 22 months.
Beautiful and free. And fearless. Created by my nephew Henrik during his summer holiday. Age 22 months.

She wasn’t falling.

She was soaring.

– Carolyn Riker

Recommended [click on image to go to link]:

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Journal entry: In DEBT yes, but inDEBTed to art as well.

I have been experiencing chronic anxiety [or more than usual] of late.  I am better able to sit with it [not perfect by any means, for at times I am debilitated by it] and to ride through just the physical symptoms.


Many changes are happening in my life- there are new developments in my art career [including GREAT STUFF with by post street] but I am still working on everything else I’ve been working on until I can transition fully into self-employment.  And I carry a caseload  of youth I care deeply about but that weighs on my mind.  So, no doubt, I am overtired.  I never stop.

Besides having physical issues that cause anxiety, and a schedule that hasn’t allowed for down time, and an over-loaded brain and fatigue etc- what I have is debt.  Financial fucking debt.  This is from years and years of insufficient income.  It’s been a lopsided exchange of energy.  And admittedly at times I feel I am drowning.  Giant sums of debt.  No wonder I feel anxious.  Duh.  I accept this and allow it.

A person with Generalized Anxiety Disorder gets tricked into trying to stop the unwanted “what if?” thoughts, rather than accepting them and taking care of present business as thoughts come and go. [source]

I am getting there in bettering my relationship with money.  A long journey ahead for sure, but the right brain business plan demystified so many things and as a result, my daughter and I created a tight, well-received document.  There are great new things happening now, the moment has arrived and great new things just around the corner, but holding on till then and juggling trying to survive is taking its toll.  My heart feels cheese-grated.   I am tired of the juggling.

But luckily, I have my tools.  And I am learning self-acceptance.  And I have my ART.  When I draw, I am free.  When I sew I am free.  And when I do both, I am working on the career, which is remarkable.  I accept that Molly will unfold as she needs to.  I don’t force it, nor can I worry about it.  I find solace in my journal…



I find strength in allowing my weakness.  And I remind myself to take micro-steps towards my goals when I am overwhelmed.   This is not about “I don’t want to be like this anymore.”  It’s about “This is me.  I accept who I am and I am ready to embrace and work with it and rise out of debt into a balanced relationship with money.”

So yes, I am in debt- inDEBTed to the gift of having a creative, artistic soul.  ART is my greatest asset, my greatest strength, my ticket out of debt, my ride to freedom.

“And then my soul saw you and it kind of went: Oh there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” – ANON


Alarm! “Failure.” Snooze. Repeat. #journal

Those first thing in the morning internal conversations can be brutal.

From: How to Stop Morning Anxiety

Few things are worse then than waking up stressed and facing anxiety which is a highly unpleasant but rather common occurrence.  The reason that anxiety is worse in the morning for many people is because this is when the body produces the most cortisol. This is a stimulant and the body produces it of course to help you to wake up. However this is also one of the hormones produced when we are under stress, and one of the ones associated with the ‘fight or flight’ response. This is then compounded by the fact that for many of us the morning is something of a shock to the system where you go from lying comfortably in the warmth without a care in the world to being jolted awake by an alarm and having to hurry out the door to work.

Internal conversation.  Write it out.  Dissipate.


The Amygdala:

Facing the wall of fear… #journal exercise. #arttherapy

Waking up with the cannonball weight of anxiety and fear in your chest?  Racing thoughts about all the usual?  Worried that you won’t be able to deliver all you have promised?  That you don’t have enough resources?  Financially, physically, spiritually?  Forgetting to live in the moment and over-thinking the future?  Scattered and feeling disorganized?  You know…  All that typical familiar stuff that builds a wall of fear around you.

Well, that’s me this AM.  So I tried this.  I drew an outline.

Drew in where the fear sits the strongest.

Then gently erased.

Easy.  Breathed through.  Decreased the tension.  Softened.

Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is.
– German Proverb

OK- I’m ready for the day! Love, Katarina

Anxiety from anticipating/processing loss requires pulling out the tool kit. #journaling

I’m working on a book with Dad and it’s a beautiful process.  It’s about maintaining connections through art and with art.

“Stay connected.” by Roar Thorsen, 2011

But as Dad goes through his past, and I take dictation and notes…

… I am filled with nostalgia for a life passed, I am filled with the heaviness of missing my mom.

I can sense I am anticipating losing Dad…

even my old dog, Tobey.

Anticipating.  Anxious.  Process.

I know that life is always fluctuating and sometimes we are stronger than other times.  Sometimes we feel power-ful and other times power-less.  Sometimes we hold on so tight, we strangle the moment.  I’m learning that all of it is OK.  There’s no right or wrong.  Only splendid imperfection.

The anxiety that wells up, though, requires some tools so it doesn’t take hold and cause a depression.

And by now, through lots of practice, I have a pretty good toolkit that I carry around with me.

So I embrace the memories.  Ride through heart ache.  Sit with the moment.  Grateful for being able to love and be loved and thus not be immune to loss, nostalgia and sentimentality.

“Whenever I start thinking of my love for a person, I am in the habit of immediately drawing radii from my love – from my heart, from the tender nucleus of a personal matter- to monstrously remote points of the universe. Something impels me to measure the consciousness of my love against such unimaginable and incalculable things as the behaviour of nebulae(whose very remoteness seems a form of insanity), the dreadful pitfalls of eternity, the unknowledgeable beyond the unknown, the helplessness, the cold, the sickening involutions and interpenetrations of space and time.”

― Vladimir Nabokov, Speak, Memory

Dih-presh-uhn. #arttherapy #tools #honesty


The first light of the mornings are often hellish for many of us. Once the sounds of the day and the resonance of hope quiets the pain, we can meet the day with renewed enthusiasm [hopefully but unfortunately for some, the days and the nights are too painful]. Toolkit. Toolkit. Recall my post on anxiety:


I wrote that anxiety can be that 200 pound lead weight on your chest when you wake up in the morning.

Well, depression to me feels more like being pulled downward by a lead weight tied with rope wound with raw nerves.

That terrible mood of depression of whether it’s any good or not is what is known as The Artist’s Reward.

– Ernest Hemingway


From Laura Mack:

“So many of us struggle with this and we need to talk about it, write about it, draw about it, dance it out more.

…and somehow, shared, the weight lessens.

I find myself wondering lately – am I cocooning, replenishing my energy reserves, or am I isolating, avoiding?

For me, it’s the 4 a.m. thing – I envy those who have managed to connect w/ a spiritual practice of meditating at that time. For me, if I’m awake then, I’m in deep heart pounding anxiety. Reaching for the journal helps.”

When anxiety hits- pick up a pencil… draw what you like #arttherapy

Oh my- anxious evening… my head swims with to-dos and self-criticism.  So before I do anything more, I will pause and simply draw.  Draw what I love, and for those of you that know me, you know that means: SOCK MONKEYS.  My daughter, Anna, gave me this delightful book for Christmas: SOCK MONKEY (Publisher teNeues)

By coincidence, my friend Lynn gave me the corresponding calendar!

In the spirit of Lynda Barry, I’ll draw on lined paper… I wish I had yellow- but oh well!  5-10 minutes, 6B pencil…

I believe this was the monkey Anna thought looked like me...

For a few minutes, I stopped thinking… so success.  I also watched CUTE WITH CHRIS while drawing… highly recommend it! 🙂

If you pick up a pencil and put it to paper to quell anxiety, share with me!  I’ll post!

#TheSketchbookProject page 10: Final day of #SanFrancisco trip part 2


Theme: And Then There Was None

Page 10 Transcript

Monday October 11, 2010


Sitting at Gate 68 @SFO.  Anna left me at the security lineup.  We had an amazing time.  I need to believe that these anxiety moments are worth it.

Trust, trust, trust.

Does this need to cry imply fear?  Grief?  Loneliness?

Sighing.  Thinking about one year ago.

Recall our marvelous long weekend.  And know all is well and safe.

Plane is just arriving.  It’s little.  But I have a window seat and my new book.


October 11, 2010

About to board.

Email YWDC re: workshop idea.  Plan for October 25 show.  Plan for October 27 SFU w. S… and H….  Let J… P. know about button maker situation.  Mail box of monkeys to L….  Mail A… L…’s monkeys to S.A.  Email plus blog about Sockshop on Haight, about SFMOMA, about new idea.  Make Lorax prototype.  Buy foamcore.  Prep schedule.  Prep animation to-do’s.  Email I…/M…  Do bills/reconiling.  J…’s r… fee + queen size bed.  Make product.  Revamp ETSY.  New washing machine.


Fear of Flying.

Boarding Anxiety.

Je suis une oiseaux.

See page 1 at The Sketchbook Project page 1

See page 2 at The Sketchbook Project page 2

See page 3 at The Sketchbook Project page 3

See page 4 at The Sketchbook Project page 4

See page 5 at The Sketchbook Project page 5

See page 6 at The Sketchbook Project page 6

See page 7 at The Sketchbook Project page 7

See page 8 at The Sketchbook Project page 8

See page 9 at The Sketchbook Project page 9

The Sketchbook Project page 8, and mysterious photos from #MysteryMister


Theme: And Then There Was None

Page 8 Transcript

Sunday October 10, 2010


PJ’s and Arrested Development.

Already missing Anna even tho we still have tomorrow and she is coming to Vancouver for Halloween.  I need to look into anxiety tools.  Redo pages with watercolor a la Lynda Barry.  Woke up with a panic attack at 5:45.

Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.

– William Wordsworth

Eldon Braun

Are you him?

Vintage photographs purchased  during my trip with Anna to the amazing store: Mystery Mister 1506 Haight Street, San Francisco.

Here is the doll I REALLY wanted to buy but didn’t.  REGRET!

I bought a bundle of old photos that I find exceptionally inspiring.

The photo in this Sketchbook Project entry had some writing in pencil in the back, indicating that the man is “Eldon Braun, son of Eldon Braun, Sr.”

When I searched “Eldon Braun, San Francisco” online, I came across the following obit:

Eldon [Braun] was born on May 28, 1943 and passed away on Friday, February 19, 2010.  Eldon was last known to be living in San Francisco, California. (source)

There are discussions online about Eldon Braun arrested for false passport at San Francisco airport (source)  and ‘Detecting Criminal Minds: At deaths of active Sociopaths (e.g. Dave Bird, Eldon Braun), other Sociopaths come forward to praise these’ (source) and Eldon was one of my favorite critics of scientology, someone I loved and admired. He was a good man and I will truely miss him. (sourceFASCINATING!


See page 1 at The Sketchbook Project page 1

See page 2 at The Sketchbook Project page 2

See page 3 at The Sketchbook Project page 3

See page 4 at The Sketchbook Project page 4

See page 5 at The Sketchbook Project page 5

See page 6 at The Sketchbook Project page 6

See page 7 at The Sketchbook Project page 7

Photo source