Forest Man

Lars Larsen's blog

I'm in psychiatric captivity again. Voluntarily again.

Publicerad 2020-07-31 07:40:00 i 5G, About facebook and internet, Autobiographical notes, Coronavirus, Islam, Parkinson's disease, Sickness and health,

Dear readers. Yesterday I put myself in a situation where the police could take me to Ytterö psychosis department in Farsta, Stockholm, again, from where I escaped this summer. My Parkinson's disease has gone too far, so I could not hide it enough, so I did something strange at the marketplace of the famous suburb Rinkeby, the muslim ghetto of Stockholm nr. 1. I sold some crazy things on the ground in front of the main mosque in Rinkeby, and shouted to everyone to come and buy, didn't want to move when the leaders of the mosque commanded me to leave, and then, of course, they called the guards, and the guards called the pedolice. Even though I put myself in danger voluntarily, I was very angry at the guards and the pedolice, and they escorted me to St. Göran's acute psychiatric ward. 
 
And why did I do this? Now I have to reveal my big secret that I have kept for 22 days: I have become handicapped. I jumped out of a balcony, 2,5 metres, from the first floor, jumped in a crazy way, didn't understand how to jump (I have made similar jumps before without hurting myself), maybe because of my Parkinson, which makes me intellectually retarded, I landed on my heels, and crushed my heels. The reason why I did it was that the pedolice came to a flat where I was a guest, making a house search, a razzia, to find me, and I was very scared, and jumped from the balcony. Then I laid on the ground for some time, shaking of pain, and shouted for help. When nobody listened (there was people there, very strange), I slowly crept over the courtyard and into the house and upstairs, and knocked on my friend's door. He opened, and laid me on his bed and gave me 40 % rum to alleviate my pain. I boozed, and it helped the pain very much. Since then I have lived by my friend, laying in an own bed in his flat most of the time, not seeking help from a hospital because of my fear of their medications (I'm sure they would force me to take antipsychotic drugs there, in any hospital). The Lord gave me crutches which we found in miraculous ways, and when I was healed enough, I could walk with crutches in Gamla Stan (The Old Town). Then I began to be too noisy in my friend's flat, saying too much crazy things, for example that 5G creates corona directly in the blood and that the friend had to choose between me staying at his flat and his wireless internet, because I did not want him to get corona, i.e. that if he did not cast out his wireless computer and his smartphone, he would cast out me. Then my friend cast out me, and I tried my best to survive in the centre of Stockholm. No one else of my friends had enough of mercy to take me to them as a konvalescent, and I was afraid of seeking a doctor. The next night I was robbed in a MacDonald's in the night when I played an UFO-man and aroused immense interest in the youngsters there, forgetting at last who I am and that I had a backpack with me. They stole everything of worth, leaving the rest on the sofa and the floor. I tried to carry my things with me to Gamla Stan without backpack, which was difficult, I had crutches, but I managed to find a place in Gamla Stan where I could sleep on the ground. I had no power to seek for my places in the forests. I froze, and could not sleep that night. The next day my Parkinson got worse *, my hands began to shake (Parkinson-shaking), which has never happened before, and I, after begging for help from my friends, gave up, and made the crazy scene in Rinkeby. 
 
Wikipedia writes about Parkinson's disease: "The life expectancy of people with PD is reduced. Mortality ratios are around twice those of unaffected people".
 
That means that you live half as long as the people without Parkinson, if you would get it in a young age. 
 
The sickness begins slowly, and then progresses exponentially, Usually from brain damage, often created by strong medications and strong drugs. So it has happened with me, and I'm now on the slippery slope, rushing downward on the curve. I got a revelation from Jesus recently, where he told me that I would die 11.11.2020 from my Parkinson, and that's the day when we all will die. 
 
 
* usually it gets worse from suffering and better from love and care

Om

Min profilbild

Lars Larsen

Born 1984 in Finland, Norwegian, lives in Österbybruk, Sweden, poet, ecotheologian and ecophilosopher (though not an academic such), is also called "The monk" ("munken", he is monk in a self-founded monastery order, "Den Heliga Naturens Orden", "The Order of the Holy Nature"), he calls himself "Forest Man Snailson" (Skogsmannen Snigelson) because of certain strong ties to Nature and the animals, founded among other things through many years of homelessness living in tent, cot, cave and several huts in the Flaten Nature Reserve and the Nacka Reserve outside of Stockholm. He debuted as a poet in 2007 with "Över floden mig" ("Across the river of me"), published by himself, he has also published an ecotheological work, "Djurisk teologi. Paradisets återkomst" (Animalistic theology. The return of paradise") on Titel förlag 2010. He has published the poem collection "Naturens återkomst" (The return of Nature) on Fri Press förlag 2018 together with Titti Spaltro, his ex-girlfriend. Lars' professions are two, cleaner and painter (buildings). Before he was homeless, but right now he lives in Österby boende, a group home for mental patients 45 km northeast of Uppsala. His adress is: Harviksvägen 6A, 74830 Österbybruk, Sverige. One can reach him in the comments section on this blog. His texts on this blog are without copyright, belonging to "Public Domain".

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