a website, a scrapbook, an unamerikan story

 Page One, website outline


turners falls, massachusetts

thursday 21 january 2010

why is my story unamerikan? the first answer is that  amerikans like to have stories about people who triumphed, despite having the deck stacked against them. the deck has been stacked against me since childhood in several very significant ways, and I have not triumphed. one of the things my story is is a story of failure, and amerikans don’t want that kind. everything must be horatio alger and bambi: the obligatory happy endings. nothing gets us amerikans down. we just keep truckin’ till that ole sun starts shinin’ again. to heck with all  that. didn’t I fall for that nonsense, and other nonsense like it, long enough? there are several other reasons as well that the true events of my life since 2006 are unamerikan , but I leave that to you. if you read enough pages, if you have a mind that can reason things out, then you’ll discover this other unamerikanism.

and the word story? there are stories that are fiction, and stories that are true. mine are true, with the exception of the single novel I’m putting on this website. you might choose to decide that some events I relate are not true, and that’s no doubt rooted in your own psychological longings for denial. but the set of your particular mind does not make a liar or a fantasist out of me. I’ve never in my life made up stories, except in the days when I was writing fiction. and I don’t imagine things. at times I misinterpret things, as everyone does, but I’ve never imagined events or people or space aliens or whatever. and if you find I misinterpret the words and actions of others more frequently than most people do, then the reason may lie in my autism, in asperger’s syndrome, and my great difficulty in grasping the indirect, tricky ways of other people’s minds.


donna williams, an autistic woman who has written several books on living with autism, has these words about her view of the world as a child:

               the world seemed to be impatient, annoying, callous and unrelenting.

that’s how I also felt about the world as a child, and that is how I still feel.iIn fact, these feelings are stronger with every passing year. this quote is from her first book, Nobody Nowhere, and nobody nowhere is, vis á vis other people, what I’ve pretty much always been. I was someone to animals: someone lovable, someone of value (even if I am odd), someone they were always happy to see come into a room. it hasn’t been that way with human beings at all.


and now March 2011, slightly more than a year since I started knitting all of my blogs together into a website. now things have changed yet again. I’ve changed my mind again about how I want to organize all this material. what can I tell you…. my life was destroyed, and that has changed me drastically, and for good. I’ve remained an internet writer much longer than I ever thought I would. I’ve remained this odd beast, an internet writer, whether I really want to be one or not. and I don’t, really. but I have no life — it was stolen. I have no animal family — they were hidden and killed. writing and organizing and doing images is a small anesthetic to the pain I live in daily. below is the most recent re-structuring.

the blogs that form the website:


                                       braonthree.wordpress.com  (you are here)
                                       mishi  (asperger’s syndrome)
                                       mentalhell   (on blogspot)
                                       sehnen  (0n soulcast)
                                       small tales from rowley
two blogs of poetry only:
                                        scealta liatha   (fear not, poems are in english)
the books; ten little indians which may be turning into eleven:
                                        mugsy’s book  (a certain dog)
                                        lifelines       (autobio)
                                        don’t ask    (satire)
                                        spite and malice 
                                        all my stars   (animals)
                                        stolen stars   (stolen animals)
                                        neverending solitaire   (asperger’s)
                                        poison and snowflake trees  (turners falls)
                                        being toward death
                                        kaikenlainen    (a brother has died)
                                        lucked out     (a father dead a long time)
the eighteen-year-old novel:    the pygmies keep dancing
                               other novels:     dunvegan spell
                                                             she says
click here to new posts.

I belong to, and write in, a number of groups at experienceproject.com, under the name sehnen. follow on twitter: @ziidjian or @annegrace2.


It’s going to take me approximately thirty-five years to write all the new pages that need doing for these books, and to move all of the existing pages from where they are now to their own new space. these projects are in part a way of living in the daily grief and loneliness and rage. and they are also, and this is the most important thing, a tribute to all the animals of my life, most especially the fourteen who were stolen, hidden, lied about, and killed.

I write bluntly and truthfully; sardonically and bitterly. the events since 2006 and the people who caused them are despicable to me. emotions are raw. I do not forgive these people, nor do I have any desires in that direction. if you seek positivity and airy new-age platitudes and happy endings — in other words, if you’re looking for the amerikan story —  then my website and my books are probably not where you should be. but if you love animals deeply; and if you believe that cruelty is not a fairy tale, but a true feature of some people’s personalities; and if you have any compassion for people whose lives have been laid waste by whatever forces, then maybe you can be a reader here. I appreciate sane, respectful comments. anyone is free to disagree with me on anything at all, in a civil and respectful way.

internet people seem to be hurry people. and information-hungry. and news-mad. none of that happens here, or will. this is slow here, this is about one person and many animals, none of whom are famous or important in the big, fast world. this is true life, true animals, true people, poems, pictures, satire, books. this is emotional. I haven’t yet found anything else like it on the internet, and I wish I could, because I would read it every day.


The Scrapbook  Art I  ~~  Art II  ~~  Art III


all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2010-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.









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  1. icare said,

    September 1, 2010 at 2:43 am

    I enjoyed reading about your animals. I am sorry. I hate to see animals die – this is the hardest part about loving one. They are angels. I have 3 cats. I have a 9 yr old, 5 yr old and just recently a 5 mo. old. They are indoor cats. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Inside the home is the safest place. Take care.

  2. braonthree said,

    September 1, 2010 at 2:39 pm

    Well, I’m glad you read about them — that’s one of my reasons for this website, for people to read about them. It is terribly hard when they die. So much harder when vicious outsiders take them from you, hide them, and eventually kill them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I hope you return, Icare, to see this message. I went to the animal welfare website and would like to put it on my reading list, but don’t know the exact address. Can you give it?

  3. icare said,

    September 1, 2010 at 3:04 pm

    I apologize. I did not realize the extent of your situation and was sort of on a time constraint when reading your page. So on your other website, it said that one of the guys is dead? So, what is happening to the others? Did they ever serve any time? I am left to wonder about some of the details. I am so sorry about what you’ve gone thru and to lose your animals like this. To those responsible for this heinous crime, I say, “Damn you all to hell”. If I can ever help you somehow, just let me know.

  4. braonthree said,

    September 1, 2010 at 9:24 pm

    I understand about time pressure. I don’t have my own computer and have so much to do on the internet that I can never do justice to very fine blogs and websites that I’d like to read more in. ~~~ You can help me by coming around once in a while and calling them criminals, calling them scum. Everything that was done to me and my animals was done under the auspices of a huge, corrupt social service agency. And all of them who failed to lift a finger to find a place for me and my animals, who instead arranged for my animals to be hidden away from me and eventually killed, still have their jobs.

  5. March 24, 2011 at 5:57 am

    My Life has taken on a blankness. I have become detached from the real self that I once knew. Painting becomes therapy rather than true expression of a self I cannot seem to feel. Responsibilites that I have shunned for 35 years have come upon me. I refused them for so many years that now I find that a roof leaking becomes tears and despair. When the repairs were accomplished as if by a miracle, I wanted to pinch myself in disbelief. Asked to fill in for a speaker of reknown at a conference I again felt numb in disbelief. I cannot claim to be a victim, I cannot claim to be worthy or good enough to get these reprieves from self annihilation. Yet, I wake each morning able to continue. I forget what has gone before and go on. My cat, Schmookey aka Carol has a huge facial bump…either it is inoperable cancer or a bone infection. Since I cannot afford to get diagnostics I just give the poor thing medicine. I hope that it is doing what it should because if it doesn’t work it is a death sentence for her. Again I hope for a reprieve if not for me then for Schmookey/ Carol.

  6. braonthree said,

    March 24, 2011 at 8:20 pm

    Paulette:… I certainly know about that blankness, and about how easily things can overwhelm. You’re always welcome, as I’m sure you know, to call or write, or both. All fervent good wishes to Schmookey.

  7. braonthree said,

    March 24, 2011 at 8:22 pm

    … and yes, it’s often hard to feel the self, the self one has always known, when there has been a cataclysm.

    • paulettepostmiller said,

      May 16, 2011 at 3:20 pm

      On the road, escaping from the tedious problems trying to be a more responsible person. Wondering why I ever thought life would be easier if I abandoned the hippy mentality and sold out to the establishment. The poverty level in Knott county , Ky was a shock. Yet the people were happier than all of the so called rich residents of Santa Barbara County, Ca! Phony uber chique of Ca are terribly air headed.
      Harrisonburg Marriot contrasts with the incredible poor, filth, and secondhand misery of Hazard and Redfox, Ky.

  8. braonthree said,

    May 17, 2011 at 12:03 am

    Paulette…. As I said to your comment on the braon blog, I’ll never glorify poverty anywhere on the planet, for any reason. Just because certain pockets of poor people may be “happy,” does not justify any society allowing poverty to occur…. Well, you certainly did go establishment, and I, for one, have never understood why. But back in those days I wasn’t one to ask questions of people I didn’t know very well. Let’s face it, I knew your mother and your brother better than I knew you. And life WAS easier for you after you married Bill and moved to lala land. At least, it was easier financially. Isn’t that what you wanted, after the financial hardships with husband number one?

  9. January 13, 2013 at 6:14 am

    Hi, i keep losing my way in this website with my nook!

  10. braonthree said,

    January 22, 2013 at 2:36 pm

    paulette: ah… losing one’s way

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