December 12, 2011
Dear Renelle,
As pen is put to paper, I can only hope you've decided to wait until my mom or other approved visitor can accompany you during the significant trip involved in seeing me. Otherwise, how are you? Not too involved in minutiae regarding moving, hopefully. The "discovery" I continue making is that it is nearly impossible to sway an agency/institution favorable to a single person's wish(es). The normal aches and pains associated with aging have and are being made much worse by the Spartan accommodations we exist in and the constantly-increasing stress from a variety of sources.
The major one (two's!) are, that my mattress is bare in some spots, and wadded tightly packed in others. This results in some of the more imaginative sleeping positions, as this cannot be corrected by any other means than being issued another mattress. Further adversity is faced nightly by the fact that my meds aren't working for me at all now, so I'm not capable of slowing my mind down enough to get any rest. This creates friction of an unintentional nature between my celly and I, and I really don't want or need to go down that road again!
The final bit of negative I'm dealing with at the moment comes out of an agreement Jesus made with me when I was a Suwannee. His word was pledged that he wouldn't ask you or my mom for any pecuniary backing, no matter what. He came up with that last part, not me. So it seems ostensibly, that he exhausted his funds when paying for the legal work to be finished, and now, in clear and direct violation of the codicil to an agreement he made, took it upon himself to try extracting money from my mom.
Somehow, this is my fault. He seemed a decent enough guy while we were both confined to a cell unable to leave for 5 months. I don't know what influences he is exposed to in population where he's at now though. Not being able to control him is a powerfully effective dividing tool, at least from my point of view. The sentence structure needs help, but the essential vibe is there, hopefully.
There isn't much interpersonal friction between anyone here, at least as far as I know of. In fact, about the only truly hardened thoughts/feelings are against those of us in the allegedly free society outside the gate. I'm going to pass along the keen insight you provided for me recently. It involved the destabilizing nature of whatever is in the coffee besides the caffeine.
I pass along valuable words to those thinkers, especially ones with additional adversity among us. The one I refer to doesn’t cause trouble and isn't involved in any, but drinks the instant like it's water--and I can tell within a tolerable way pretty well how much he's had by his speech and mannerisms. Of course, he might have the jump on this, being a fairly astute guy--and have already decided to limit his intake; I haven't spoken to him today.
Guess I'll call the latest wave produced by the rumor-mill here, the Chicken-Little Conspiracy. The reasoning is manifold, but basically is summed up best in the belief that there is an ongoing Administration change-out. This is strictly a rumor based on unfounded hearsay at best, and likely untrue at present. Bad news will go around the world 7 times while good news is getting its shoes on, so I've heard. I don't pay any attention to gossip, which is all it amounts to, now--thought it was laughable how easily, thoroughly, and swiftly these rumors cut through the population here.
As of now, 12/11/11, much of this letter will be found redundant by you--having it gone over face to face during our visit. Not that it makes a tangible difference long-term, but I feel good now I've had a chance to let my real actual self show through a bit more. Don't think I'm overstating the state of anything, but it does mean something to me that I'm thought of in the proper perspective. Yes, I can clown, but that doesn't make me a clown any more than physically being in a chicken coop makes me a chicken. I also feel that whatever else took place during the visit, I'm more easy-spirited instead of the defiant warlike entity I was last time.
Although it may have seemed at times my attention was wandering, I was at those moments engaging in cogitation as to what topic needed discussing, if indeed any did. My apologies, if I seemed inattentive. As always, the special and possibly unique ways of delving/exploring the particular topics you covered are above the high watermark, intellectually. I value them as such. Also, I now have yet another in the stream of ideas I have lately, for a topic that begs to be tackled.
That topic is one I mentioned during the visit, but I don't know if you realized the full significance of it, or for that matter, if the full significance can truly be realized. Specifically, going back to my realizing rather early in life that I was at least as smart as my teachers. How is it possible for them to teach anyone on a more advanced level than they currently have available? As an example, while "being taught" that the earth is the third planet from the sun, I realistically was studying the nature of sunlight. People perceive different colors actually because light is light and dark is dark. The sky only seems blue to someone because light is perceived by most at the part of the spectrum corresponding to the color blue. I'm not being pretentious, but this occurred to me by the 4th grade at the latest.
Unfortunately for those like me, the only way to progress beyond a certain point is to self-educate by whatever means available. Self education offers no recognized diploma, so our potential goes largely undeveloped in a general sense. We wind of stifled intellectually, forced to play make-believe in a world of suffocating ignorance. Of course, that is my opinion only.
Strong words, yet true just the same. More pragmatically due to the constraints inherent in all known/recognized human language(s), I may just be the originator of a new form of communication without words connected to rigid definitions. That will be a secondary endeavor at best, though. I'll keep you posted on the progress I make to that end, if any.
Something else occurs to me, worth mention. That is overcoming the apparent disparity of my "voice" I've got on paper and my speech in person. I've known there is an incongruency for some 20 years plus now, but the exploration of this has always been sidelined for a trivial reason, until now, that is. I've narrowed down to the reasons for this, but only in my head and not in any written form--for good reason. I wanted to know if my retention is such that I could maintain an idea of that complexity relative to all the other intellectual flotsam and jetsam over a period of time without being able to consult any "reminders."
It is the most heinously insulting thing that "we" are to do now: get the worst meal on the "menu" out of the way. At least, with this gone, it can only get better. Apologies for not concluding this before, but due to mechanical errors, it wasn't possible. What power(s) control my fates(s) are to be promptly and profusely thanked for the delay, as I was shown I yet have a horrifyingly objectionable side of myself gone wholly unrecognized, waiting for a chance to show.
During one of the rare few dreams I have now, I was at Ray and my mom's house (I guess, not having ever actually seen it), became frustrated at something very minor not turning out the way I wanted, locked Ray inside a shed, broke my mom's foot somehow--then it go serious. Real serious, fast. I couldn't believe it was me doing the things to my own mother that were so despicable, and relatively easy for me to do, at least for the time. Fortunately, it all came to a halt at 4:15 a.m. when a guard loudly yelled out the call for the med. window. Now I'm both shaken and stirred by that glimpse into a possible future!
As I sit writing in the pre-dawn gloom, a number of things crowd my mind vying equally, urgently to be noted that occurred to me late overnight. Among them, contrary to my violent dreamare (one word), that I'd ultimately seek to be a righter as well as a writer, a righter capable of correcting injustice of all types, and forging my way through the quagmire of dilemma and indecision in front of me. Hey, it's my fantasy--I might as well go all out with it, right? What I labor to convey, is not to be deceived by my smooth ways. I'm really not as easy-going a guy as I appear to be. I still have an issue or two to work out so I can be fit for public.
Now, although I don't exactly feel comfortable about it (as much as comfort is possible here!), I need to get this out to you, redundant though it is. It nearly is time to, again, sit and look at people I've got nothing in common with. That, unfortunately and for now, is all.
Your "short" friend,
James
Friday, December 23, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Letter 92
October 23, 2011
Dear Mom,
As this is likely the last letter I write you at my current age and before our visit I would like to include some informative facts that, as far as I know, the administration won't tell you. Unfortunately, my brain is being held hostage by alien beings now so that fact has trumped all others. Hopefully, all is well and on track and on schedule for the visit. I've got much to say about being incarcerated thus far.
Without dwelling on the negative aspects and particulars, let me just claim that at this point I'm of the opinion that if I'm released and unchanged any further I'll be a clearly undisputed victor/miracle. As that isn't likely to occur though, I will further perfect my budding ability to be as inoffensive in speech and action as I'm able in the time I've yet to be incarcerated. I still need to ask around about how visitation is conducted, here particularly, but one thing is likely to be more true than anything else: I had all my head/facial hair shaved off after being here ten days because I lost a bet and I'm just starting to grow it back...so please don't be shocked by my looks.
Besides which, I received a letter from Dad/Thailand in which he asked questions revealing a wider range of feeling than I'd given him credit for showing, even privately. Please forward my response to him...thank you. Otherwise, I'm going to presume we will be watched even more closely here than in a straight D.O.C. camp with the reason being the prevalence of drugs and abuses of them by most of the inmates here. However, hopefully this will reach you before making the drive for the visit, and to let you know one last thing I've been told by the top staff here; apparently, there is a machine in a room you go through on the way out with the ability to instantly transfer money into any inmates account.
At times, it is good to be able to be as relaxed as I can wisely be in here. As always, much love and regards, you aging son,
James
Dear Mom,
As this is likely the last letter I write you at my current age and before our visit I would like to include some informative facts that, as far as I know, the administration won't tell you. Unfortunately, my brain is being held hostage by alien beings now so that fact has trumped all others. Hopefully, all is well and on track and on schedule for the visit. I've got much to say about being incarcerated thus far.
Without dwelling on the negative aspects and particulars, let me just claim that at this point I'm of the opinion that if I'm released and unchanged any further I'll be a clearly undisputed victor/miracle. As that isn't likely to occur though, I will further perfect my budding ability to be as inoffensive in speech and action as I'm able in the time I've yet to be incarcerated. I still need to ask around about how visitation is conducted, here particularly, but one thing is likely to be more true than anything else: I had all my head/facial hair shaved off after being here ten days because I lost a bet and I'm just starting to grow it back...so please don't be shocked by my looks.
Besides which, I received a letter from Dad/Thailand in which he asked questions revealing a wider range of feeling than I'd given him credit for showing, even privately. Please forward my response to him...thank you. Otherwise, I'm going to presume we will be watched even more closely here than in a straight D.O.C. camp with the reason being the prevalence of drugs and abuses of them by most of the inmates here. However, hopefully this will reach you before making the drive for the visit, and to let you know one last thing I've been told by the top staff here; apparently, there is a machine in a room you go through on the way out with the ability to instantly transfer money into any inmates account.
At times, it is good to be able to be as relaxed as I can wisely be in here. As always, much love and regards, you aging son,
James
Letter 92
October 19, 2011
Dear Mom,
Responding to your letter of October 16th is a task so complex in form that I may not be able to adequately answer all the topics this caused to come to my mind. I will explain as best I'm able, though. I've had no sleep to speak of for more than 48 hours now, I'm still afflicted with being unable to breathe like others, and, to top it all off, witnessed during a fire drill early this morning the guards being totally lost as to what to do! Keystone kops routine, badly. So, hopefully you are well and your back issues aren't troubling your mind much.
Though I've already expressed how I'm doing, I'll lay it out as plainly as possible for the impaired censors: I'm sick and don't feel secure with these idiots and their keys in charge of my well being. I'd belabor my point more stressfully but can't come up with a method for truly being forthright about these morons. What it comes down to, after the cosmetics are removed, is the job they do works best when all is as expected; throw any tiny bit of a crisis at them and they are completely clueless, however.
Basically, the largest adversity I face comes down to the spelling of the word "acceptance:" I tend to spell the word "exceptance" instead; I mean, they sound alike, right? Things like waking us up from sound sleep (here I refer to others) to be crowded into a narrow hall for 45 minutes inspires in me a spirit of complete cooperation...NOT! If there actually were a fire we would all be cooked through in the time it took them to act.
About the classes, I've got virtually no chance of switching into some actual educational ones until/unless I'm through with the Therapeutic Community course. What I have in mind to pursue as a method for providing income for myself is a writing career. I don't expect to be taken as the greatest thing since sliced bread at first. That will occur in stages...or not, as fate has it in store. I'm not looking for access to large amounts of cash in any case, as I feel that would be detrimental to both my recovery and my life.
I've already stated my position with regards to recreational reading material but may have ignored the issue unintentionally. While I am getting more free time, others are getting more seriously re percussive. I deal with it writing letters, as I've got no other option than passing the huge jagged kidney stone represented by this issue. I'm ahead of the learning curve on that, I suppose.
Likely the biggest rub here is the fact that due to the rapid turnover rate the only real information I'm exposed to comes from counselors nearly senile...they remember prohibition, in some cases, and so forth. They are unqualified, and in many cases just wrong, for the tasks set before them. So you see the state of my state, hopefully. A large and growing source of dissatisfaction/unrest with me. I don't likely have anywhere near their experience in the field of counseling, but I do know when I'm being jerked around. It is probably difficult for the counselors too, having to adjust themselves to the current generation of addicts/alcoholics/criminals.
My former celly is no longer my celly. He had a pre-existing medical condition that he had just begun to be treated for at South Florida, was moved here and promptly forgotten. I wrote Renelle about it more in depth and she will get that letter about the time you get this. I need to tend to the business of cleaning this cell better than it is so I don't seem slovenly. That is the approximate size and shape of the situation with me, for now.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Responding to your letter of October 16th is a task so complex in form that I may not be able to adequately answer all the topics this caused to come to my mind. I will explain as best I'm able, though. I've had no sleep to speak of for more than 48 hours now, I'm still afflicted with being unable to breathe like others, and, to top it all off, witnessed during a fire drill early this morning the guards being totally lost as to what to do! Keystone kops routine, badly. So, hopefully you are well and your back issues aren't troubling your mind much.
Though I've already expressed how I'm doing, I'll lay it out as plainly as possible for the impaired censors: I'm sick and don't feel secure with these idiots and their keys in charge of my well being. I'd belabor my point more stressfully but can't come up with a method for truly being forthright about these morons. What it comes down to, after the cosmetics are removed, is the job they do works best when all is as expected; throw any tiny bit of a crisis at them and they are completely clueless, however.
Basically, the largest adversity I face comes down to the spelling of the word "acceptance:" I tend to spell the word "exceptance" instead; I mean, they sound alike, right? Things like waking us up from sound sleep (here I refer to others) to be crowded into a narrow hall for 45 minutes inspires in me a spirit of complete cooperation...NOT! If there actually were a fire we would all be cooked through in the time it took them to act.
About the classes, I've got virtually no chance of switching into some actual educational ones until/unless I'm through with the Therapeutic Community course. What I have in mind to pursue as a method for providing income for myself is a writing career. I don't expect to be taken as the greatest thing since sliced bread at first. That will occur in stages...or not, as fate has it in store. I'm not looking for access to large amounts of cash in any case, as I feel that would be detrimental to both my recovery and my life.
I've already stated my position with regards to recreational reading material but may have ignored the issue unintentionally. While I am getting more free time, others are getting more seriously re percussive. I deal with it writing letters, as I've got no other option than passing the huge jagged kidney stone represented by this issue. I'm ahead of the learning curve on that, I suppose.
Likely the biggest rub here is the fact that due to the rapid turnover rate the only real information I'm exposed to comes from counselors nearly senile...they remember prohibition, in some cases, and so forth. They are unqualified, and in many cases just wrong, for the tasks set before them. So you see the state of my state, hopefully. A large and growing source of dissatisfaction/unrest with me. I don't likely have anywhere near their experience in the field of counseling, but I do know when I'm being jerked around. It is probably difficult for the counselors too, having to adjust themselves to the current generation of addicts/alcoholics/criminals.
My former celly is no longer my celly. He had a pre-existing medical condition that he had just begun to be treated for at South Florida, was moved here and promptly forgotten. I wrote Renelle about it more in depth and she will get that letter about the time you get this. I need to tend to the business of cleaning this cell better than it is so I don't seem slovenly. That is the approximate size and shape of the situation with me, for now.
Much love and regards,
James
Letter 91
October 16, 2011
Dear Mom,
Had to take a break from my involvements as I've got an overwhelming habit of being promoted up to the level of my incompetence, and don't desire to be another idiotic inmate.
Other than the smaller and easily broken ties keeping me grounded, most all is well with me. How are things with you? Well, hopefully. Apparently, I chose the wrong place to get peace, as the T.V. is loudly showing a football game to this zoo full of stupid people. I recall at one point many moons ago I liked watching football...seems like so much has happened internally that "the thrill is gone" to quote B. B. King.
All is much better here, as far as anger and violence go. There are unavoidable incidents with other inmates and guards, but usually much milder than anything at a D.O.C. camp because of the simple fact that no one wants any possibility of trouble here Now, I've stated that to lead into this: Although I believe you are doing all you possibly can to insure my stay here is a comfortable one, I need to tell you that I need some more money in my account, please.
Feel free to disregard this request if you want, or if you sent money this past week and I don't know it, as I can't disentangle myself long enough to get a report from the canteen. Be not deceived, GEO Corporation is in this business to make money...prisons and jails being the biggest legal business in the state. The almighty dollar is the end-all, be-all here, much as it runs at odds to what I've seen of the staff here.
Words alone fail to underscore completely the urgency of this request, for lack of a more fitting word. What I need more than even that is an opportunity to get to the canteen and find out the state of the funds available to me. In the coming week I will be more than caught up with my obligations here and have time to do as I want for a change and I've got additional requests to help me pass the time legally.
The first of these is, I arrived here with only the contents of a small grocery store bag to start out with...no books. The library here has a very limited number of books that I have access to and I've read all of them. What I would like is to get books from Amazon.com like you got for me at Suwannee. Also, possibly, a subscription to the Rolling Stone magazine as a birthday present.
This letter began under my mistaken belief I had a bigger chance to get it done and ready to mail, but that was when I still thought it was an hour earlier than it is. Forgive me for rushing to complete this. I've got it figured out...for the donation of only $52, you will make me a satisfied individual who won't introduce or entertain any topic with money in it for the rest of my 45th year. Of course, I'll go longer depending on if I'm able to get loose from all the schoolwork they've got me doing long enough to make it to the canteen. My celly says hi. I've got to go now.
Much love and regards to all,
James
Dear Mom,
Had to take a break from my involvements as I've got an overwhelming habit of being promoted up to the level of my incompetence, and don't desire to be another idiotic inmate.
Other than the smaller and easily broken ties keeping me grounded, most all is well with me. How are things with you? Well, hopefully. Apparently, I chose the wrong place to get peace, as the T.V. is loudly showing a football game to this zoo full of stupid people. I recall at one point many moons ago I liked watching football...seems like so much has happened internally that "the thrill is gone" to quote B. B. King.
All is much better here, as far as anger and violence go. There are unavoidable incidents with other inmates and guards, but usually much milder than anything at a D.O.C. camp because of the simple fact that no one wants any possibility of trouble here Now, I've stated that to lead into this: Although I believe you are doing all you possibly can to insure my stay here is a comfortable one, I need to tell you that I need some more money in my account, please.
Feel free to disregard this request if you want, or if you sent money this past week and I don't know it, as I can't disentangle myself long enough to get a report from the canteen. Be not deceived, GEO Corporation is in this business to make money...prisons and jails being the biggest legal business in the state. The almighty dollar is the end-all, be-all here, much as it runs at odds to what I've seen of the staff here.
Words alone fail to underscore completely the urgency of this request, for lack of a more fitting word. What I need more than even that is an opportunity to get to the canteen and find out the state of the funds available to me. In the coming week I will be more than caught up with my obligations here and have time to do as I want for a change and I've got additional requests to help me pass the time legally.
The first of these is, I arrived here with only the contents of a small grocery store bag to start out with...no books. The library here has a very limited number of books that I have access to and I've read all of them. What I would like is to get books from Amazon.com like you got for me at Suwannee. Also, possibly, a subscription to the Rolling Stone magazine as a birthday present.
This letter began under my mistaken belief I had a bigger chance to get it done and ready to mail, but that was when I still thought it was an hour earlier than it is. Forgive me for rushing to complete this. I've got it figured out...for the donation of only $52, you will make me a satisfied individual who won't introduce or entertain any topic with money in it for the rest of my 45th year. Of course, I'll go longer depending on if I'm able to get loose from all the schoolwork they've got me doing long enough to make it to the canteen. My celly says hi. I've got to go now.
Much love and regards to all,
James
Letter 90
October 12, 2011
Dear Mom,
I'm so glad to hear from you. A number of topics are currently taking up much needed room in my already crowded-to-capacity head. I will respond, hoping it is received in the spirit it was written in. Starting with likely the most misunderstood of all events in my recent history...my attacking another man in "a fit of rage."
Let me state somewhat too late that although surely angry back
then, the attack took place more as a result of not having any of my medications for at least a week prior to the event. A fact I am sure has been omitted from all documentation regarding the matter. As I stated, though I was angry at the time, I wasn't anywhere close to being angry enough to attack someone with a weapon! I didn't have any control, crazed as I was...all I could do was observe and hope for the best.
Onward, hopefully forward. I believe any further show of contrition on my part would only lead to added mental problems for me and still the other man would be in the same condition he is in. I've had time to devote a bit of serious thought and attention to this matter, and as of now, this is both what I think and how I feel. I'm unable to state my conclusions any more plainly than this, and sadly, yes, it did require an event that serious for me to regain an iota of control over my fate.
I can exercise telepathy-by-mail; you are asking how much actual control I have as a prisoner. My answer to that is practically none. I do expect to be released in the near future, however, and be released with many fewer problems than I arrived with.
On to vastly more pleasant subjects; specifically, Renelle's physical and mental plagues. I feel I've got a better perspective than you have regarding what it is actually like having a manic disorder, not being solidly or entirely free of idiosyncrasies myself. So, yes, I know fully well how much of a trial we are sometimes. I applaud you for realizing that whatever the situation that befalls us, we are at least partly blind to our responsibility for having caused it.
As for the leukemia, I'm going to have to content myself with being happy it hasn't debilitated her more profoundly. I can get a sense of where she is sometimes by the letters she sends me.
About the reliability of letters left in my wake finding me, the letter dated October 7th is the second one I've received at South Bay, which leaves one unaccounted for. Which I'd say is better than I've got a right to expect as I'm still on record as being in the first dorm they moved me into three moves ago! If you sent any letters my way while I was still intransit, it is likely they are lost forever.
I'm also happy Jesus is so much closer to gaining permanent freedom. He discussed in detail his plans and options, although my ability to understand them in limited. I doubt the fact that his plans will move forward on the timetable he has in mind, but without any pertinent details, they are fairly sound...in my estimation. He is a really good guy, but tainted by three decades of needlessly being in prison. This is how I view his case.
Now it is Thursday morning and hopefully this will go out today; if not, it will be three more days before you receive it. The free-floating stress has an effect on even the more "thuggish" population here. While getting breakfast, a guy behind me did his level best to get me to do something to him...even going as far as insulting my intelligence and education! I politely suggested we take up the subject again when we were away from the officers/staff to which he declined. Shockingly.
I'm so glad you were finally able to straighten out the phone situation! Now I know if for some reason I really need to contact you quickly I will be able to. I just hope that the need never arises. As far as the mail goes, all the letters I get have to make the rounds of every dorm in the prison to find me, as I'm not where I'm on record as being...but also not listed as having left the institution either.
If you talk with Renelle, tell her I'm cooking something up worthwhile. I have to go to a pointless class now.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
I'm so glad to hear from you. A number of topics are currently taking up much needed room in my already crowded-to-capacity head. I will respond, hoping it is received in the spirit it was written in. Starting with likely the most misunderstood of all events in my recent history...my attacking another man in "a fit of rage."
Let me state somewhat too late that although surely angry back
then, the attack took place more as a result of not having any of my medications for at least a week prior to the event. A fact I am sure has been omitted from all documentation regarding the matter. As I stated, though I was angry at the time, I wasn't anywhere close to being angry enough to attack someone with a weapon! I didn't have any control, crazed as I was...all I could do was observe and hope for the best.
Onward, hopefully forward. I believe any further show of contrition on my part would only lead to added mental problems for me and still the other man would be in the same condition he is in. I've had time to devote a bit of serious thought and attention to this matter, and as of now, this is both what I think and how I feel. I'm unable to state my conclusions any more plainly than this, and sadly, yes, it did require an event that serious for me to regain an iota of control over my fate.
I can exercise telepathy-by-mail; you are asking how much actual control I have as a prisoner. My answer to that is practically none. I do expect to be released in the near future, however, and be released with many fewer problems than I arrived with.
On to vastly more pleasant subjects; specifically, Renelle's physical and mental plagues. I feel I've got a better perspective than you have regarding what it is actually like having a manic disorder, not being solidly or entirely free of idiosyncrasies myself. So, yes, I know fully well how much of a trial we are sometimes. I applaud you for realizing that whatever the situation that befalls us, we are at least partly blind to our responsibility for having caused it.
As for the leukemia, I'm going to have to content myself with being happy it hasn't debilitated her more profoundly. I can get a sense of where she is sometimes by the letters she sends me.
About the reliability of letters left in my wake finding me, the letter dated October 7th is the second one I've received at South Bay, which leaves one unaccounted for. Which I'd say is better than I've got a right to expect as I'm still on record as being in the first dorm they moved me into three moves ago! If you sent any letters my way while I was still intransit, it is likely they are lost forever.
I'm also happy Jesus is so much closer to gaining permanent freedom. He discussed in detail his plans and options, although my ability to understand them in limited. I doubt the fact that his plans will move forward on the timetable he has in mind, but without any pertinent details, they are fairly sound...in my estimation. He is a really good guy, but tainted by three decades of needlessly being in prison. This is how I view his case.
Now it is Thursday morning and hopefully this will go out today; if not, it will be three more days before you receive it. The free-floating stress has an effect on even the more "thuggish" population here. While getting breakfast, a guy behind me did his level best to get me to do something to him...even going as far as insulting my intelligence and education! I politely suggested we take up the subject again when we were away from the officers/staff to which he declined. Shockingly.
I'm so glad you were finally able to straighten out the phone situation! Now I know if for some reason I really need to contact you quickly I will be able to. I just hope that the need never arises. As far as the mail goes, all the letters I get have to make the rounds of every dorm in the prison to find me, as I'm not where I'm on record as being...but also not listed as having left the institution either.
If you talk with Renelle, tell her I'm cooking something up worthwhile. I have to go to a pointless class now.
Much love and regards,
James
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Letter 89
October 10, 2011
Dear Mom,
I have yet another endless request to ask of you: I've just had the byzantine record-keeping of this place explained to me by my celly and found that I don't have nearly as much socked away as I thought. I don't wear socks. Since I don't, I traded them away. Anyhow, easy as it is for me to get continuously caught up in wordplay, I need to occasionally make a plainly comprehensible request for more in my account...please. Thank you very much, even if you decide not to send anything now.
Knowing that the countdown has begun is enough for me to tie my hopes to, as in less than a year I could be relatively free to do as I please. At the current rate, that is. Although the "here" is preferable by far than any other prison I've been in, no one wants to be here. We smurfs are doubly punished: The first way is by being incarcerated; the second and more demanding way, of course, is to be funneled through these programs for self improvement like we are.
This creates tremendous friction and even enmity between the counselors and smurfs, with some of the counselors taking on attributes of Gargamel. If I weren't directly involved, it would be funny. As it stands though, it isn't. At hand are also the following situations: Our microwave no longer works due to overuse likely, resulting in no one trying to replace it on a holiday and no way to heat up anything which leaves me stymied for a cup of hot coffee tomorrow morning. I suppose that, since I've gone as long as a year without any coffee at all, this currently shouldn't even represent a mild difficulty. They ought to be mindful of facts; specifically, that a microwave cannot be run continually and used to dry the occasional batch of laundry successfully.
We do quite a lot of our own washing and have nowhere for it to dry, as our cells are crowded and the guards come in and randomly take away any clotheslines we have. So, we adapt and use the microwave! It is a real hindrance to maintain an acceptably hygienic area...the guards are shooting themselves in the foot.
At least I laid in some siege supplies before the money dried up, so my celly and I are good for a week or ten days. I understand he was put here (prison) against his expectations and with no one to do anything for him on the other side of the gate. So, what I do is hire him for little jobs and pay him in food he won't ask for. That way, it is a win-win situation. He gets to keep his pride unblemished and I get a watchdog.
I just had a startling thought...I may have already passed up the last opportunity today to drop a letter in the mail. If I have, it isn't the crucial event I make it out to be, as the mail doesn't move on a federal holiday and will get to you just as quickly if mailed tomorrow. Anyhow, this is a glimpse into something of my personal world. Hopefully, you are still solid/stable mentally and emotionally and not scarred as I am.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
I have yet another endless request to ask of you: I've just had the byzantine record-keeping of this place explained to me by my celly and found that I don't have nearly as much socked away as I thought. I don't wear socks. Since I don't, I traded them away. Anyhow, easy as it is for me to get continuously caught up in wordplay, I need to occasionally make a plainly comprehensible request for more in my account...please. Thank you very much, even if you decide not to send anything now.
Knowing that the countdown has begun is enough for me to tie my hopes to, as in less than a year I could be relatively free to do as I please. At the current rate, that is. Although the "here" is preferable by far than any other prison I've been in, no one wants to be here. We smurfs are doubly punished: The first way is by being incarcerated; the second and more demanding way, of course, is to be funneled through these programs for self improvement like we are.
This creates tremendous friction and even enmity between the counselors and smurfs, with some of the counselors taking on attributes of Gargamel. If I weren't directly involved, it would be funny. As it stands though, it isn't. At hand are also the following situations: Our microwave no longer works due to overuse likely, resulting in no one trying to replace it on a holiday and no way to heat up anything which leaves me stymied for a cup of hot coffee tomorrow morning. I suppose that, since I've gone as long as a year without any coffee at all, this currently shouldn't even represent a mild difficulty. They ought to be mindful of facts; specifically, that a microwave cannot be run continually and used to dry the occasional batch of laundry successfully.
We do quite a lot of our own washing and have nowhere for it to dry, as our cells are crowded and the guards come in and randomly take away any clotheslines we have. So, we adapt and use the microwave! It is a real hindrance to maintain an acceptably hygienic area...the guards are shooting themselves in the foot.
At least I laid in some siege supplies before the money dried up, so my celly and I are good for a week or ten days. I understand he was put here (prison) against his expectations and with no one to do anything for him on the other side of the gate. So, what I do is hire him for little jobs and pay him in food he won't ask for. That way, it is a win-win situation. He gets to keep his pride unblemished and I get a watchdog.
I just had a startling thought...I may have already passed up the last opportunity today to drop a letter in the mail. If I have, it isn't the crucial event I make it out to be, as the mail doesn't move on a federal holiday and will get to you just as quickly if mailed tomorrow. Anyhow, this is a glimpse into something of my personal world. Hopefully, you are still solid/stable mentally and emotionally and not scarred as I am.
Much love and regards,
James
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Letter 88
October 9, 2011
Dear Mom,
How are you? Well, hopefully. I'm doing alright and hopefully getting up to speed here in this college that few are graduates of. I'm basing this letter on both the premise that the sooner I get it started the sooner I'll be able to mail it, and the hope that it won't be irretrievably lost in the cell I'm in now. I don't have time to include all that is happening around me, the things that I've set in motion purposefully or otherwise. I'm likely to be interrupted by those inscrutable Mensa candidates at least once, so please bear this in mind if I start to wander.
I don't know if you know this, but the days for visitation are on the weekends and holidays. I'm unsure of the hours, but this schedule conveniently allows for a visit on my birthday! It is difficult to keep my focus on the information I need to be sure you have as there is a tsunami of noise coming at me from outside the cell right now...the natives are (always) restless!
Some, my celly for example, are more tolerable and good-natured than the vast tide of thuggish idiocrats all around me. As I stated, my celly is an exception. At first, before I knew him I mean, he seemed a quietly reserved individual. But when I thought to baffle him into insensitivity with my brilliance his intelligence began to show through. He is younger than me but I don't know how old he actually is...as one learns not to pry for information that is not forthcoming.
In any event, tomorrow starts the next phase of my progression away from the realm of inmates and guards. I'm unsure of just how to approach this final bit of nonsense that seems to be going on here. None of my former stratagems will work for me in this situation. I have to at least make a showing and once involved some useful knowledge might spring loose from me. It is like when you would take me to see Dr. Philpot as a child...all would be well until the nurse called me Jimmy, at which point I knew I would get an injection. Remember how I loved those?
Last night I had a strange dream. I dreamt I was on the North Bahamian blob-sled team. Blob sledding was different from other kinds of sledding in that in a blob-sled run four team members had to maintain streamlined positions without benefit of a sled. Hence, the blob sled. The second night here I did not get a chance to shower so I had a nightmare of being eaten alive by ants.
They are going to dim the lights soon so I will finish this tomorrow. It is tomorrow but I let the fact that it is Columbus Day totally slip my mind and thereby have another day to wrap this up. Also, I let slip the fact Dad is now another year older as well. I'll send him a belated card when I'm better situated myself. It doesn't appear as if the smurf population will get today off from anything but that isn't a huge thing as we barely are active at all. And so it goes, for now.
Of utmost importance, I feel, is not working toward graduating from the program but in figuring ways to avoid running afoul of the many personalities so deeply entrenched in being in a program. That will require tact, strategy, and diplomacy on my part, far more so than the actual assignments. The worst misfortune I continually worry about is that my letters get misplaced before they are mailed. So, that leaves me with a need to contact you with information I consider important enough to have written down, but then need a filing system to keep track of it. I'll tell you of some other oddities in the way this camp is run in another letter, or face to face. For now, since this letter has information you may need in it, I'll drop it in the mail. I look forward to seeing you.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
How are you? Well, hopefully. I'm doing alright and hopefully getting up to speed here in this college that few are graduates of. I'm basing this letter on both the premise that the sooner I get it started the sooner I'll be able to mail it, and the hope that it won't be irretrievably lost in the cell I'm in now. I don't have time to include all that is happening around me, the things that I've set in motion purposefully or otherwise. I'm likely to be interrupted by those inscrutable Mensa candidates at least once, so please bear this in mind if I start to wander.
I don't know if you know this, but the days for visitation are on the weekends and holidays. I'm unsure of the hours, but this schedule conveniently allows for a visit on my birthday! It is difficult to keep my focus on the information I need to be sure you have as there is a tsunami of noise coming at me from outside the cell right now...the natives are (always) restless!
Some, my celly for example, are more tolerable and good-natured than the vast tide of thuggish idiocrats all around me. As I stated, my celly is an exception. At first, before I knew him I mean, he seemed a quietly reserved individual. But when I thought to baffle him into insensitivity with my brilliance his intelligence began to show through. He is younger than me but I don't know how old he actually is...as one learns not to pry for information that is not forthcoming.
In any event, tomorrow starts the next phase of my progression away from the realm of inmates and guards. I'm unsure of just how to approach this final bit of nonsense that seems to be going on here. None of my former stratagems will work for me in this situation. I have to at least make a showing and once involved some useful knowledge might spring loose from me. It is like when you would take me to see Dr. Philpot as a child...all would be well until the nurse called me Jimmy, at which point I knew I would get an injection. Remember how I loved those?
Last night I had a strange dream. I dreamt I was on the North Bahamian blob-sled team. Blob sledding was different from other kinds of sledding in that in a blob-sled run four team members had to maintain streamlined positions without benefit of a sled. Hence, the blob sled. The second night here I did not get a chance to shower so I had a nightmare of being eaten alive by ants.
They are going to dim the lights soon so I will finish this tomorrow. It is tomorrow but I let the fact that it is Columbus Day totally slip my mind and thereby have another day to wrap this up. Also, I let slip the fact Dad is now another year older as well. I'll send him a belated card when I'm better situated myself. It doesn't appear as if the smurf population will get today off from anything but that isn't a huge thing as we barely are active at all. And so it goes, for now.
Of utmost importance, I feel, is not working toward graduating from the program but in figuring ways to avoid running afoul of the many personalities so deeply entrenched in being in a program. That will require tact, strategy, and diplomacy on my part, far more so than the actual assignments. The worst misfortune I continually worry about is that my letters get misplaced before they are mailed. So, that leaves me with a need to contact you with information I consider important enough to have written down, but then need a filing system to keep track of it. I'll tell you of some other oddities in the way this camp is run in another letter, or face to face. For now, since this letter has information you may need in it, I'll drop it in the mail. I look forward to seeing you.
Much love and regards,
James
Letter 87
October 5, 2011
Dear Mom,
First and foremost, please accept my profuse apologies for thinking the worst case scenario of you. Now, moving beyond my humiliating evident need to grovel...let me also state that I had forgotten about your telling me about your plans to attend the reunion; but I'm really glad it worked out so well for you. I'm quite busy, with being moved into and out of dorms here. Three times I've been unsettled and counting. At any rate, hopefully my business is behind me and it will become less chaotic for me now.
The "shakedown" is still an act I must endure daily through the week with the only difference being that now we are fairly able to tell when they are doing it and act accordingly. It is really too bad about the searches being daily but at least they aren't random and arbitrary.
About the educational opportunities here...I've been forced into a box that is shrinking on me while being filled with toxic gas. That is the best way of describing what it feels like to be in this "Therapy Community" program. Although, today I had the highest score out of everyone in the morning class as far as knowledge about different ways drugs affect people. Sad that I know that information through experience rather than book-learning. Still, there is little point in forcing me to relive parts of my past in the class; but to get out of it would mean being sent to another institution so I think I will just man-up and do it.
I'm especially happy that you and Jesus got in contact. He really is one of a kind. I ought to send him another letter soon. I'm going to let the craziness abate here more first, though. I'm proof-positive that lightning will strike many times in the same location. I mean, as far as getting a celly I get along with.
It is easier and better here by far compared to any other prison I've been in, and a bit sadly even better than Suwannee with Jesus. Although my opinion is that due to no fault of his own, much of the world remains the same for him as it was during the 1980's when he began the sentence he has now completed. I feel, after speaking to him, that it is a miracle he functions and relates to others as well as he does considering what he has been through. I feel especially pulled to be a voice for those not in a position to have one and to make the words count for something of value in places like the capital. That is more of a reality than we know, I believe.
I have to go to my classes now so I need to put this on hold. Now we smurfs in the class are told collectively by the counselors and peer-therapists that we represent the brightest, sharpest group to enter the program as far as anyone can remember...period. High praise indeed, if not empty flattery.
I need to start thinking about exit-strategy more and how to come out of experiences wiser than I entered into them. Not just surviving but truly overcoming and even mastering on occasion. Otherwise, the knowledge/experience I've got counts for nil only because I'm not able to demonstrate it outwardly. So I'm able to string random words together to put in the mail...big fat deal is how I feel I rate at this point journalistically by the world's views. I do feel I've calmed down considerably during the time I've been in prison, whether that is naturally occurring or due to the environment. I'm unsure about this.
Before I wrap this up, I'll do my best to answer some questions you asked me: No, this isn't anything like the South Park series on T.V. although it is always cold here because the entire facility is indoors. Air-conditioned, relatively clean and well maintained....but not wet from either rain or snow. The guards here are cut from a better fabric than the ones at the D.O.C. camp, generally, and are much more aware and responsive to the needs of the individuals. This also means that it is much more difficult by far to talk them into or out of something. I'm sure I don't know all the loopholes yet and don't intend to find out either, as knowledge of that kind is more dangerous to me than useful. Everything was taken from me.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
First and foremost, please accept my profuse apologies for thinking the worst case scenario of you. Now, moving beyond my humiliating evident need to grovel...let me also state that I had forgotten about your telling me about your plans to attend the reunion; but I'm really glad it worked out so well for you. I'm quite busy, with being moved into and out of dorms here. Three times I've been unsettled and counting. At any rate, hopefully my business is behind me and it will become less chaotic for me now.
The "shakedown" is still an act I must endure daily through the week with the only difference being that now we are fairly able to tell when they are doing it and act accordingly. It is really too bad about the searches being daily but at least they aren't random and arbitrary.
About the educational opportunities here...I've been forced into a box that is shrinking on me while being filled with toxic gas. That is the best way of describing what it feels like to be in this "Therapy Community" program. Although, today I had the highest score out of everyone in the morning class as far as knowledge about different ways drugs affect people. Sad that I know that information through experience rather than book-learning. Still, there is little point in forcing me to relive parts of my past in the class; but to get out of it would mean being sent to another institution so I think I will just man-up and do it.
I'm especially happy that you and Jesus got in contact. He really is one of a kind. I ought to send him another letter soon. I'm going to let the craziness abate here more first, though. I'm proof-positive that lightning will strike many times in the same location. I mean, as far as getting a celly I get along with.
It is easier and better here by far compared to any other prison I've been in, and a bit sadly even better than Suwannee with Jesus. Although my opinion is that due to no fault of his own, much of the world remains the same for him as it was during the 1980's when he began the sentence he has now completed. I feel, after speaking to him, that it is a miracle he functions and relates to others as well as he does considering what he has been through. I feel especially pulled to be a voice for those not in a position to have one and to make the words count for something of value in places like the capital. That is more of a reality than we know, I believe.
I have to go to my classes now so I need to put this on hold. Now we smurfs in the class are told collectively by the counselors and peer-therapists that we represent the brightest, sharpest group to enter the program as far as anyone can remember...period. High praise indeed, if not empty flattery.
I need to start thinking about exit-strategy more and how to come out of experiences wiser than I entered into them. Not just surviving but truly overcoming and even mastering on occasion. Otherwise, the knowledge/experience I've got counts for nil only because I'm not able to demonstrate it outwardly. So I'm able to string random words together to put in the mail...big fat deal is how I feel I rate at this point journalistically by the world's views. I do feel I've calmed down considerably during the time I've been in prison, whether that is naturally occurring or due to the environment. I'm unsure about this.
Before I wrap this up, I'll do my best to answer some questions you asked me: No, this isn't anything like the South Park series on T.V. although it is always cold here because the entire facility is indoors. Air-conditioned, relatively clean and well maintained....but not wet from either rain or snow. The guards here are cut from a better fabric than the ones at the D.O.C. camp, generally, and are much more aware and responsive to the needs of the individuals. This also means that it is much more difficult by far to talk them into or out of something. I'm sure I don't know all the loopholes yet and don't intend to find out either, as knowledge of that kind is more dangerous to me than useful. Everything was taken from me.
Much love and regards,
James
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Letter 86
October 7, 2011
Dear Renelle,
How are you? I haven't received word from you since I was at Suwannee, which hopefully indicates only that you have been scrambling and didn't have time to write. At any rate of progress, I continue to adjust to the nonsensical ways of being here. More about that further on.
Today I've got a more important event on the horizon, namely moving out of the part of the class taught at the farthest part of this place which requires much walking to get to. Let me explain what I understand about this "Therapeutic Community" program, please. For no other reason than that someone between here (me) and the government wants to pad their expenses, I've been put into a program offering "increased knowledge of what makes one tick."
I am resistant, yet feel that the wise course of action is not with active resistance, or "bucking" as it is commonly called. Being stuck without viable recourse in the program is a risky way of getting my sentence shortened, though. If I get the totality of requirements met for completion, I'll be the proud bearer of a piece of meaningless paper. If I don't for any reason fully complete all the requirements they haven't even finished putting together, a consequence of some type of administrative action will result...up to and including a likely D.R. for "failure to comply," etc. So, what I mean by that is, I'd better guard myself well. Though this is the best one I have been to, it is a prison with all the connotations thereof.
On the lighter side, I'm putting together something like a chronicle of my life as I recall so far, which I hope will be informative to others in a widespread way. At the present stage, it is little more than one of my ideas to provide me with an income after my release. I find it difficult to keep my thoughts ordered enough to compose them in hard copy. Also, it is tough for other practical reasons to keep them ordered and together. I'm entertaining ideas for a tentative title; so far the front-runner is "A Life As Such."
Now we remaining smurfs, coming out from far darker prisons that were equally as restrictive, have essentially endured the waiting trial-phase of orientation of the program and have completed it to be dispersed to whatever dorm they move us to for further study.
As I stated, it isn't difficult, particularly as we are a "pioneer group," which translates as lab rats, so we aren't expected to be perfect. I know all of the material being taught but don't want to appear too smart as I will get labeled. Dumbing-down isn't quite as difficult here, as the others are likely all at least at G.E.D. functioning level; but it is still tricky if I forget.
It is harder to remain compliant to what I'm told are requirements now, as I don't have any way of knowing beforehand what they are. I'm understandably a bit nervous due to the hands being attached to different bodies here, each with the capability of deciding I'm not acceptable and writing a D.R. that would stick to me, thus sending me deep into the panhandle on the next thing moving and back to a far worse C.M. (close management) than I've been through as of yet. That is the price for my being here...constant concern that it will happen.
Otherwise, as my sentence continues to wind down and I become more acclimated to the pace of this environment, I don't have much I'm currently willing to print here...the knowledge I've got is that sensitive. I'm hoping to see you on or before I turn another year older in prison; I'll turn 29 on the end of the month. I seem older chiefly as time passing is about the most subjective natural occurrence there is, in my opinion. More about that in a following letter.
As of now, Friday, October 7th, the mail has been passed out and most here received some. I, however, remain abstinent in that regard. Along with my commentary on the seemingly different rates time passes, I'll include some on the people (et.al.) I've come to know/socialize with during the time when my options have been harshly limited. However, it may not be in the same letter as I tend to be inclined to verbosity and embellishment, which only works for me if I'm paid by the word. I've got what amounts to an astounding but selective recall.
In our class this morning,I asked a question relating directly to overcoming our addictions that is still a "stumper." It was a two-part question that in my estimation was way too advanced for even the highly educated counselors here. The first part: What recently discovered chemical is only found in brains of addicts/alcoholics This chemical is the only proven determiner as to whether an individual will become an addict/alcoholic. It is called "THIQ" for an abbreviation of Tetrahydraisoquinlan. Like apples...how about those! I've indisputably got the most knowledge of addiction in all of it's splendiforous forms, but lack a certain amount of the type sense a program like this is installing/instilling in me. In other words, I know the answers, but the questions elude me. Oh well, I don't claim perfection...yet.
The program purports to teach a way of thinking differently, but though it may actually provide a new mental map, the individual has the responsibility for the interpretation of it. So, the burden is on our shoulders; indeed, has never been gone. What the program is offering us is to learn to use different muscle groups in an alternating way, so as to make it seem easier to carry.
On to more practical matters. Due to the schedule during the week, we don't get much latitude for visitation. The days visiting is allowed are both Saturday and Sunday, which I don't know if you already know or not, so I'll go ahead and give you the spiel: Although I don't know the hours by rote, I'm sure they are less restrictive than while I was at Suwannee. I've looked at the calendar and my birthday falls on Sunday this year, so, if not before then, hopefully you will make a brighter spot in this grim, dark time I'm enduring by visiting me on my birthday. By the way, I've talked with people who tell me it is possible to visit on both Saturday and Sunday consecutively.
Now I've been locked in for "count", a sometimes endless series of the guards mistakes/blunders/fumbles. During this part of the day I'm most powerfully reminded of how little I control my short-term destiny. We smurfs have to remain sitting on the bunk we are assigned, even when there is no one watching for the reason they might be. The part I don't understand is why according to the code they must operate within, we aren't permitted anything that might be a distraction. I mean, it's their job, right? I'm sure if I asked all the smurfs statewide, 100% of them didn't ask for incarceration...so my point is why are we held accountable for what we can't control? I haven't witnessed any D.R.'s handed out for non-compliance with count procedure yet, but it may only be a matter of time. What do you think?
It is difficult for me to understand other aspects of incarceration as well...guess I shouldn't concern myself with things as circuitously inscrutable as the reason employed by the prison system in Florida. Here though, the typical officer is much more mentally stable than would be true at a D.O.C. camp, so there is more of a streamlined feel to the day-to-day operation of the prison as a whole.
I'm sure there is a hypothesis contained in this information somewhere. I've now had all the weekend to "tweak" this to mail it out, but what that translates to is that I've gotten involved in the making sure I'm up to speed here instead. So, the result is a rather sub-standard effort on my part...again. Once a habit or pattern becomes deeply ingrained, they require a willful and concerted effort to break out of. Such is the bane of my existence.
Also encompassed under the heading of "banes" would be the extremely distracting and idiotic qualities of the behavior of others. Few indeed catch my bitingly dry sense of humor. This morning as I was finishing up in the shower area in the dorm here a guy walked behind a column to finish the cigarette he was smoking. I moved some clothing I'd washed so it wouldn't smell like smoke and he said, "you're okay." I said, "no, I'm not...I'm in prison." He looked at me like I'd just sprouted another head in front of him.
Your temporarily subjugated friend,
James
Dear Renelle,
How are you? I haven't received word from you since I was at Suwannee, which hopefully indicates only that you have been scrambling and didn't have time to write. At any rate of progress, I continue to adjust to the nonsensical ways of being here. More about that further on.
Today I've got a more important event on the horizon, namely moving out of the part of the class taught at the farthest part of this place which requires much walking to get to. Let me explain what I understand about this "Therapeutic Community" program, please. For no other reason than that someone between here (me) and the government wants to pad their expenses, I've been put into a program offering "increased knowledge of what makes one tick."
I am resistant, yet feel that the wise course of action is not with active resistance, or "bucking" as it is commonly called. Being stuck without viable recourse in the program is a risky way of getting my sentence shortened, though. If I get the totality of requirements met for completion, I'll be the proud bearer of a piece of meaningless paper. If I don't for any reason fully complete all the requirements they haven't even finished putting together, a consequence of some type of administrative action will result...up to and including a likely D.R. for "failure to comply," etc. So, what I mean by that is, I'd better guard myself well. Though this is the best one I have been to, it is a prison with all the connotations thereof.
On the lighter side, I'm putting together something like a chronicle of my life as I recall so far, which I hope will be informative to others in a widespread way. At the present stage, it is little more than one of my ideas to provide me with an income after my release. I find it difficult to keep my thoughts ordered enough to compose them in hard copy. Also, it is tough for other practical reasons to keep them ordered and together. I'm entertaining ideas for a tentative title; so far the front-runner is "A Life As Such."
Now we remaining smurfs, coming out from far darker prisons that were equally as restrictive, have essentially endured the waiting trial-phase of orientation of the program and have completed it to be dispersed to whatever dorm they move us to for further study.
As I stated, it isn't difficult, particularly as we are a "pioneer group," which translates as lab rats, so we aren't expected to be perfect. I know all of the material being taught but don't want to appear too smart as I will get labeled. Dumbing-down isn't quite as difficult here, as the others are likely all at least at G.E.D. functioning level; but it is still tricky if I forget.
It is harder to remain compliant to what I'm told are requirements now, as I don't have any way of knowing beforehand what they are. I'm understandably a bit nervous due to the hands being attached to different bodies here, each with the capability of deciding I'm not acceptable and writing a D.R. that would stick to me, thus sending me deep into the panhandle on the next thing moving and back to a far worse C.M. (close management) than I've been through as of yet. That is the price for my being here...constant concern that it will happen.
Otherwise, as my sentence continues to wind down and I become more acclimated to the pace of this environment, I don't have much I'm currently willing to print here...the knowledge I've got is that sensitive. I'm hoping to see you on or before I turn another year older in prison; I'll turn 29 on the end of the month. I seem older chiefly as time passing is about the most subjective natural occurrence there is, in my opinion. More about that in a following letter.
As of now, Friday, October 7th, the mail has been passed out and most here received some. I, however, remain abstinent in that regard. Along with my commentary on the seemingly different rates time passes, I'll include some on the people (et.al.) I've come to know/socialize with during the time when my options have been harshly limited. However, it may not be in the same letter as I tend to be inclined to verbosity and embellishment, which only works for me if I'm paid by the word. I've got what amounts to an astounding but selective recall.
In our class this morning,I asked a question relating directly to overcoming our addictions that is still a "stumper." It was a two-part question that in my estimation was way too advanced for even the highly educated counselors here. The first part: What recently discovered chemical is only found in brains of addicts/alcoholics This chemical is the only proven determiner as to whether an individual will become an addict/alcoholic. It is called "THIQ" for an abbreviation of Tetrahydraisoquinlan. Like apples...how about those! I've indisputably got the most knowledge of addiction in all of it's splendiforous forms, but lack a certain amount of the type sense a program like this is installing/instilling in me. In other words, I know the answers, but the questions elude me. Oh well, I don't claim perfection...yet.
The program purports to teach a way of thinking differently, but though it may actually provide a new mental map, the individual has the responsibility for the interpretation of it. So, the burden is on our shoulders; indeed, has never been gone. What the program is offering us is to learn to use different muscle groups in an alternating way, so as to make it seem easier to carry.
On to more practical matters. Due to the schedule during the week, we don't get much latitude for visitation. The days visiting is allowed are both Saturday and Sunday, which I don't know if you already know or not, so I'll go ahead and give you the spiel: Although I don't know the hours by rote, I'm sure they are less restrictive than while I was at Suwannee. I've looked at the calendar and my birthday falls on Sunday this year, so, if not before then, hopefully you will make a brighter spot in this grim, dark time I'm enduring by visiting me on my birthday. By the way, I've talked with people who tell me it is possible to visit on both Saturday and Sunday consecutively.
Now I've been locked in for "count", a sometimes endless series of the guards mistakes/blunders/fumbles. During this part of the day I'm most powerfully reminded of how little I control my short-term destiny. We smurfs have to remain sitting on the bunk we are assigned, even when there is no one watching for the reason they might be. The part I don't understand is why according to the code they must operate within, we aren't permitted anything that might be a distraction. I mean, it's their job, right? I'm sure if I asked all the smurfs statewide, 100% of them didn't ask for incarceration...so my point is why are we held accountable for what we can't control? I haven't witnessed any D.R.'s handed out for non-compliance with count procedure yet, but it may only be a matter of time. What do you think?
It is difficult for me to understand other aspects of incarceration as well...guess I shouldn't concern myself with things as circuitously inscrutable as the reason employed by the prison system in Florida. Here though, the typical officer is much more mentally stable than would be true at a D.O.C. camp, so there is more of a streamlined feel to the day-to-day operation of the prison as a whole.
I'm sure there is a hypothesis contained in this information somewhere. I've now had all the weekend to "tweak" this to mail it out, but what that translates to is that I've gotten involved in the making sure I'm up to speed here instead. So, the result is a rather sub-standard effort on my part...again. Once a habit or pattern becomes deeply ingrained, they require a willful and concerted effort to break out of. Such is the bane of my existence.
Also encompassed under the heading of "banes" would be the extremely distracting and idiotic qualities of the behavior of others. Few indeed catch my bitingly dry sense of humor. This morning as I was finishing up in the shower area in the dorm here a guy walked behind a column to finish the cigarette he was smoking. I moved some clothing I'd washed so it wouldn't smell like smoke and he said, "you're okay." I said, "no, I'm not...I'm in prison." He looked at me like I'd just sprouted another head in front of him.
Your temporarily subjugated friend,
James
Letter 85
October 5, 2011
Dear Renelle,
I've really missed being able to send you letters on a regular basis, but it couldn't be helped with the way things have been going for me lately. Guess I could accurately be compared to a one-legged guy in a fight in terms of my business here for the last three weeks.
Before going on, how are you? I've missed seeing you for a medically hazardous length of time, as I had a tremendous deal of information to tell you but it was not wise to write it in a letter. Although I tried to maintain the viability of that information, it was all destroyed in the series of thefts while in transit to my ultimate destination here. This is a tragedy as parts of it could be of use in overturning my illegal sentence and cannot be retrieved. Oh well, you'd think I'd be getting used to being victimized by this point in my "time."
My time is beginning to be less chaotic now that I am past the initial thrust of the different way this prison is run, and hopefully I'm getting adjusted to the differential speed of this place. I direct your attention to the wording I used: Differential versus deferential. From one to the other is all the difference in the way this camp is run as opposed to a D.O.C. installation.
It's a difficult life being an incongruity spotter...I mean, a good example of what I refer to is a rather drawn out sort of back story, concluding with the fact that no one here in the smurf population wants to give any guard a reason to write a disciplinary report (D.R.) on them as they have the stories about what goes on in D.O.C. camps where they would be swiftly shipped to if they caught a D.R. I don't know what the following is caused by and will let it stand or fall as such. A group of smurfs was watching the movie I Robot the other night and I was waiting for an opening in the line for the microwave and mentioned that a difference between the book and the movie was that in the book one of the lead characters was a male. This resulted in a genormous controversy which included some derivative periodically of the interjection, "Why should I care?"
At any rate, I've been moved, again, to a dorm where all the smurfs in the entire dorm have two things in common at least: They are in some kind of program designed to insure a bigger budget more than anything else, and they've all got a relatively high custody level. The officers did their best to ignore the fact that I've got a low-bunk pass, and if they had succeeded I would be stuck doing my impersonation of a stroke-affected spider man for the time I'm here! The way these cells are made there are no handholds so I'm forced to just jump and hope for the best.
Now I'm nearly moved, and a thought occurred to me as I was making my final trip between the old dorm and the new one, loaded down with all I could carry. Even though I have plenty of water to draw from the well here, I still need to get it from a distant well. No specific reason, just because. This arrangement truly inspires prodigious amounts of cooperation from me. Now though, it is (hopefully) done. I can't wait to see who my new celly is...
Now I've met the celly and he is...me. To put a vague and inscrutable twist on the saying that names ourselves as the only beings that can alter our own fates...if you believe that stuff. Not to put too fine a point on it, anyhow. Significant alterations which have an effect on little ole me are being made and sorted through, prioritized, and passed down to the level where I become aware of them all of the time by all the people between the cell door and Tallahassee's government office. Viewed that way, I'm retaining at least a shadow of the power/influence I think I had. I'm more focused now on exit strategies than getting into anything.
It is a good thing and even providential that we are both who and what we are; which, in each of our cases I believe to be capable of a mind/body synergy that has far reaching effects not only on our inner worlds, but the one we have in common as well. I state the world we commonly share, and not that it is common here. I'm putting a collection together of some of the experiences I recall throughout my life in hopes that it will translate into a future book at some point.
Reminds me, I need to get to the library while there is still movement called to go. C-ya soon, with much information/talk,
James
Dear Renelle,
I've really missed being able to send you letters on a regular basis, but it couldn't be helped with the way things have been going for me lately. Guess I could accurately be compared to a one-legged guy in a fight in terms of my business here for the last three weeks.
Before going on, how are you? I've missed seeing you for a medically hazardous length of time, as I had a tremendous deal of information to tell you but it was not wise to write it in a letter. Although I tried to maintain the viability of that information, it was all destroyed in the series of thefts while in transit to my ultimate destination here. This is a tragedy as parts of it could be of use in overturning my illegal sentence and cannot be retrieved. Oh well, you'd think I'd be getting used to being victimized by this point in my "time."
My time is beginning to be less chaotic now that I am past the initial thrust of the different way this prison is run, and hopefully I'm getting adjusted to the differential speed of this place. I direct your attention to the wording I used: Differential versus deferential. From one to the other is all the difference in the way this camp is run as opposed to a D.O.C. installation.
It's a difficult life being an incongruity spotter...I mean, a good example of what I refer to is a rather drawn out sort of back story, concluding with the fact that no one here in the smurf population wants to give any guard a reason to write a disciplinary report (D.R.) on them as they have the stories about what goes on in D.O.C. camps where they would be swiftly shipped to if they caught a D.R. I don't know what the following is caused by and will let it stand or fall as such. A group of smurfs was watching the movie I Robot the other night and I was waiting for an opening in the line for the microwave and mentioned that a difference between the book and the movie was that in the book one of the lead characters was a male. This resulted in a genormous controversy which included some derivative periodically of the interjection, "Why should I care?"
At any rate, I've been moved, again, to a dorm where all the smurfs in the entire dorm have two things in common at least: They are in some kind of program designed to insure a bigger budget more than anything else, and they've all got a relatively high custody level. The officers did their best to ignore the fact that I've got a low-bunk pass, and if they had succeeded I would be stuck doing my impersonation of a stroke-affected spider man for the time I'm here! The way these cells are made there are no handholds so I'm forced to just jump and hope for the best.
Now I'm nearly moved, and a thought occurred to me as I was making my final trip between the old dorm and the new one, loaded down with all I could carry. Even though I have plenty of water to draw from the well here, I still need to get it from a distant well. No specific reason, just because. This arrangement truly inspires prodigious amounts of cooperation from me. Now though, it is (hopefully) done. I can't wait to see who my new celly is...
Now I've met the celly and he is...me. To put a vague and inscrutable twist on the saying that names ourselves as the only beings that can alter our own fates...if you believe that stuff. Not to put too fine a point on it, anyhow. Significant alterations which have an effect on little ole me are being made and sorted through, prioritized, and passed down to the level where I become aware of them all of the time by all the people between the cell door and Tallahassee's government office. Viewed that way, I'm retaining at least a shadow of the power/influence I think I had. I'm more focused now on exit strategies than getting into anything.
It is a good thing and even providential that we are both who and what we are; which, in each of our cases I believe to be capable of a mind/body synergy that has far reaching effects not only on our inner worlds, but the one we have in common as well. I state the world we commonly share, and not that it is common here. I'm putting a collection together of some of the experiences I recall throughout my life in hopes that it will translate into a future book at some point.
Reminds me, I need to get to the library while there is still movement called to go. C-ya soon, with much information/talk,
James
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Letter 84
October 04, 2011
Dear Mom,
Before I ask about how you are, I'll state that this is about the 10th time I've written you without mailing it/them. The reason I encounter so much adversity is plain: I don't have any stamps/envelopes and don't know anyone that does. Thus far I haven't been able to buy any out of the canteen as I have always had an appointment when our dorm has access to the canteen. So, I've got plenty to be upset about in that area.
Now, how are you? Good, hopefully. I've got more to state about that, and a favor to ask you too, but that will be a bit further into the letter. As far as how I'm doing, I likely could be compared to a marble out from a sling shot, bouncing off objects with seemingly no decrease in speed. This, due to the frequency of my call-outs to medical or mental health and counseling therapists.
To date, the call-outs have had the effect of increasing my stress level dramatically. If I'm late to one, I'll get a D/R (disciplinary report) and go straight back to C.M. (close management) at either Santa Rosa or F.S.P., both of which aren't the Floridian paradises of their brochures, let me assure you. It is pretty well guaranteed that none that stay here get into trouble of any kind as it is a fairly sure thing to be shipped off to a D.O.C. camp for getting even a single D/R as I understand it.
Possibly I've overstated the hazards here, but not by much or intentionally. So, let me put you up to speed on what I'm involved with. I'm in a program on weekday mornings called a "Therapeutic Community." Our group, I'm told, is the first to get any hard copy information books, which is both good and bad for us smurfs. Good, as we are freer to work at our own pace, and bad as it can never be fast enough.
As I stated, the call-outs have had a crippling affect on me and my week in the T.C. program simply because this past week I was supposed to be present at five classes. Because of being called away, I only attended two. I missed a lot of important information, as well as being able to express what I feel I need and want out of it.
Excuse my distractedness please, knowing that it is born out of my need to eat opposed to my disinterest in continuing this letter. I have to move quick at times now to have a better chance at getting a tray of decent food. Which, by the way, is 100% better here than in the other prisons I've been to. The portioning is still hit and miss, though. I'm exempt from working in or with the food because I'm still a "close custody" inmate, but expect that will change when the officer/staff here realizes I'm not a threat or anything like that. All considered, I'm in a much healthier environment, after all the initial breaking in is over.
The part of the camp that I like the most is, especially considering it is a South Florida location, that there is no mandatory recreation yard! I was interrupted again...but this time for a very much needed reason: A call for the canteen. Now, among the many items I have secreted through people here, I've gotten to know a bit of their backgrounds. I don't have to eat what comes in on the trays to get full or reasonably close to it. Thank you for the money in my account, most definitely! Shoot, if it keeps on like this the rest of my sentence will fly by before I know it.
Now, for the part I referred to earlier on. The favor I'd like to ask of you is to be a spy for me...sort of. I'd like to find out as nearly as I'm able to how Renelle really is. I'm not comfortable asking her directly because she could be a lot more ill than she lets me know. I'm a grown adult now and have suffered my share, at least, so I can handle whatever news occurs. Please don't let her know of my concern. It is only that the world will be a more unfeeling place by far without her presence in it that leads me to inquire about her health.
I've got another favor to ask, one that you indicated on prior occasions that you would be willing to do. I'm including a letter to my former celly, Jesus, and hope you will be able to locate the camp he is at and forward it to him. Okay, I'm about out of room to write here so I'll let you get back to your life. Thank you very much.
Much love, and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Before I ask about how you are, I'll state that this is about the 10th time I've written you without mailing it/them. The reason I encounter so much adversity is plain: I don't have any stamps/envelopes and don't know anyone that does. Thus far I haven't been able to buy any out of the canteen as I have always had an appointment when our dorm has access to the canteen. So, I've got plenty to be upset about in that area.
Now, how are you? Good, hopefully. I've got more to state about that, and a favor to ask you too, but that will be a bit further into the letter. As far as how I'm doing, I likely could be compared to a marble out from a sling shot, bouncing off objects with seemingly no decrease in speed. This, due to the frequency of my call-outs to medical or mental health and counseling therapists.
To date, the call-outs have had the effect of increasing my stress level dramatically. If I'm late to one, I'll get a D/R (disciplinary report) and go straight back to C.M. (close management) at either Santa Rosa or F.S.P., both of which aren't the Floridian paradises of their brochures, let me assure you. It is pretty well guaranteed that none that stay here get into trouble of any kind as it is a fairly sure thing to be shipped off to a D.O.C. camp for getting even a single D/R as I understand it.
Possibly I've overstated the hazards here, but not by much or intentionally. So, let me put you up to speed on what I'm involved with. I'm in a program on weekday mornings called a "Therapeutic Community." Our group, I'm told, is the first to get any hard copy information books, which is both good and bad for us smurfs. Good, as we are freer to work at our own pace, and bad as it can never be fast enough.
As I stated, the call-outs have had a crippling affect on me and my week in the T.C. program simply because this past week I was supposed to be present at five classes. Because of being called away, I only attended two. I missed a lot of important information, as well as being able to express what I feel I need and want out of it.
Excuse my distractedness please, knowing that it is born out of my need to eat opposed to my disinterest in continuing this letter. I have to move quick at times now to have a better chance at getting a tray of decent food. Which, by the way, is 100% better here than in the other prisons I've been to. The portioning is still hit and miss, though. I'm exempt from working in or with the food because I'm still a "close custody" inmate, but expect that will change when the officer/staff here realizes I'm not a threat or anything like that. All considered, I'm in a much healthier environment, after all the initial breaking in is over.
The part of the camp that I like the most is, especially considering it is a South Florida location, that there is no mandatory recreation yard! I was interrupted again...but this time for a very much needed reason: A call for the canteen. Now, among the many items I have secreted through people here, I've gotten to know a bit of their backgrounds. I don't have to eat what comes in on the trays to get full or reasonably close to it. Thank you for the money in my account, most definitely! Shoot, if it keeps on like this the rest of my sentence will fly by before I know it.
Now, for the part I referred to earlier on. The favor I'd like to ask of you is to be a spy for me...sort of. I'd like to find out as nearly as I'm able to how Renelle really is. I'm not comfortable asking her directly because she could be a lot more ill than she lets me know. I'm a grown adult now and have suffered my share, at least, so I can handle whatever news occurs. Please don't let her know of my concern. It is only that the world will be a more unfeeling place by far without her presence in it that leads me to inquire about her health.
I've got another favor to ask, one that you indicated on prior occasions that you would be willing to do. I'm including a letter to my former celly, Jesus, and hope you will be able to locate the camp he is at and forward it to him. Okay, I'm about out of room to write here so I'll let you get back to your life. Thank you very much.
Much love, and regards,
James
Friday, October 7, 2011
Letter 83
September 25, 2011
Dear Mom,
It has been a truly Herculean effort to get stamps/envelopes without any money here yet. Otherwise, all is well indeed. How are you getting along? This no-stamps deal is about one of the few things that could cause me scarring, mentally and over time. Someone was gracious enough to lend me a small amount food-wise or I would really be up against a wall.
Anyhow, I find that if I dwell on past mistakes and errors it only makes it easier to stay as I am with no mental improvement. This is where the real struggle takes place. I've gone over the figures again and again only to be re confronted with the ugly fact of need. My celly is a decent sort of guy, so I was able to copy down prices for the bare essentials and came up with the following: For $50-$100, I can be "indoors comfortable." For an additional $60, I can get new sneakers and new gym shorts.
Although there is much posturing and empty bravado going on here, none are willing to make anyone angry enough to get them put on the bus out of here as we are all D.O.C. refuges and know this to be a good camp. And, although the prices are a bit higher on some foods, overall they average out to the same...with added variety, no less. This change up keeps the same foods from getting tired and stale. Very similar to a baseball pitcher who has a good change up and can then keep his numbers in better standing/average.
I've still been writing plenty of letters but I have no way to mail them. I will tell you the best way to see that I have at least a way to send and receive mail: Either a cashiers check/money order complete with my name and DC number sent here, or there is a service provided by Access Secure Deposits at inmatedeposits.com on the net.
I would enjoy keeping you up on all the latest except for two stark facts: All the latest may include lies or half truths, and my schedule is compressed so much that it is approaching critical mass! What with getting settled and not revealing any fractures/lies, i.e., my hotly burning rage at the system for the injustices that put me here, I can ill afford to let my guard down at all.
Otherwise, it is a pretty ho-hum routine here. Write me when you can. I need to establish the fact that I'm here in actuality.
Much love and regards
James
Dear Mom,
It has been a truly Herculean effort to get stamps/envelopes without any money here yet. Otherwise, all is well indeed. How are you getting along? This no-stamps deal is about one of the few things that could cause me scarring, mentally and over time. Someone was gracious enough to lend me a small amount food-wise or I would really be up against a wall.
Anyhow, I find that if I dwell on past mistakes and errors it only makes it easier to stay as I am with no mental improvement. This is where the real struggle takes place. I've gone over the figures again and again only to be re confronted with the ugly fact of need. My celly is a decent sort of guy, so I was able to copy down prices for the bare essentials and came up with the following: For $50-$100, I can be "indoors comfortable." For an additional $60, I can get new sneakers and new gym shorts.
Although there is much posturing and empty bravado going on here, none are willing to make anyone angry enough to get them put on the bus out of here as we are all D.O.C. refuges and know this to be a good camp. And, although the prices are a bit higher on some foods, overall they average out to the same...with added variety, no less. This change up keeps the same foods from getting tired and stale. Very similar to a baseball pitcher who has a good change up and can then keep his numbers in better standing/average.
I've still been writing plenty of letters but I have no way to mail them. I will tell you the best way to see that I have at least a way to send and receive mail: Either a cashiers check/money order complete with my name and DC number sent here, or there is a service provided by Access Secure Deposits at inmatedeposits.com on the net.
I would enjoy keeping you up on all the latest except for two stark facts: All the latest may include lies or half truths, and my schedule is compressed so much that it is approaching critical mass! What with getting settled and not revealing any fractures/lies, i.e., my hotly burning rage at the system for the injustices that put me here, I can ill afford to let my guard down at all.
Otherwise, it is a pretty ho-hum routine here. Write me when you can. I need to establish the fact that I'm here in actuality.
Much love and regards
James
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Letter 82
September 19, 2011
Dear Mom,
My education continues in the way of prison conistry. I have much to tell of it; unfortunately, due to an extremely slimy person/group at South Florida Receiving Center I no longer have any stamps, envelopes, or paper to mail any of my letters. I was burgled and robbed on two separate occasions while there. The first was because I had a half-decent celly that I definitely did not want to have any problems with. We had to share a locker but I had the only lock, so I didn't use it out of consideration for him. I was robbed while eating and taking my medications, which can be a rather lengthy affair. When I returned approximately two and one-half hours later and found I had been burgled, my situation started going from bad to much worse. I did what is expected and reported the theft immediately to the dorm officer but I was brushed off and discounted. When I persisted, I was put in handcuffs and "talked to" by another officer including threats of violent bodily harm if I still persisted. That, though, is in the past and I fully realize there is not a viable method of recovering the losses that is practical.
As you are likely aware, I'm now at South Bay, which is run far differently from any of the D.O.C. hell-holes I've been through. So, for the needed funds transfer, you need to go to http://www.secureaccess.com/. It will be in my account immediately. Also, remember how badly messed up my PIN was for the phone? They use a different system here entirely and you put money in the phone account at the same site as you do for any spending money. The site should have adequate instructions to guide you through it. The money left in my D.O.C. account has to come here from Tallahassee so it could be months before I receive anything. I didn't have much left, maybe $14 is all.
This, unfortunately, is all the room I have for this distress (post) letter.
Much love,
James
Dear Mom,
My education continues in the way of prison conistry. I have much to tell of it; unfortunately, due to an extremely slimy person/group at South Florida Receiving Center I no longer have any stamps, envelopes, or paper to mail any of my letters. I was burgled and robbed on two separate occasions while there. The first was because I had a half-decent celly that I definitely did not want to have any problems with. We had to share a locker but I had the only lock, so I didn't use it out of consideration for him. I was robbed while eating and taking my medications, which can be a rather lengthy affair. When I returned approximately two and one-half hours later and found I had been burgled, my situation started going from bad to much worse. I did what is expected and reported the theft immediately to the dorm officer but I was brushed off and discounted. When I persisted, I was put in handcuffs and "talked to" by another officer including threats of violent bodily harm if I still persisted. That, though, is in the past and I fully realize there is not a viable method of recovering the losses that is practical.
As you are likely aware, I'm now at South Bay, which is run far differently from any of the D.O.C. hell-holes I've been through. So, for the needed funds transfer, you need to go to http://www.secureaccess.com/. It will be in my account immediately. Also, remember how badly messed up my PIN was for the phone? They use a different system here entirely and you put money in the phone account at the same site as you do for any spending money. The site should have adequate instructions to guide you through it. The money left in my D.O.C. account has to come here from Tallahassee so it could be months before I receive anything. I didn't have much left, maybe $14 is all.
This, unfortunately, is all the room I have for this distress (post) letter.
Much love,
James
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Letter 81
September 08, 2011
Dear Mom,
I've owed you a letter but held off until something more definitive happened as far as a transfer location. I believe I'm being sent to a prison called South Bay C.F., ultimately. Right now, I'm at the North Florida Reception Center in Lake Butler. For celly's, lightening did strike twice as the one I received here also has 24 years in.
Not very much fun so far getting to my new location as we move only at the whim of the D.O.C., but once I do get settled there it should be a different story. Do you know the nicest thing about being released to general population? Actually, there isn't one there are many. Having access to a wider variety of items I can buy, the ability to exercise some of the weight off that I picked up, and being able to eat with a large number of others to start. Being able to use a regular type pen is no punishment, either. I got off to a rough start because I don't have an I.D. badge to buy things with, but expect to have one soon.
I have split feelings about leaving Suwannee; on the one hand, it was impossible to get me out of C.M. fast enough, and on the other hand, I found I had gotten about as close to Jesus as another man could so I hated to part from him. I just hope his review goes the way he thinks it will. Up to the parole board to let him go, and they just told him they will see him in five years. Excuse me for having an opinion, but being a fellow human and an inmate and knowing through seeing his reactions over time, I think they are wrong in their decision(s).
Once he makes it to open population, it will be much easier for him to do some things I don't even know if possible, being caged like he is. He says he will write both you and Renelle letters explaining better ways to effectively get decent treatment out of different prisons. I hope he doesn't wait too long, for many I've come to know have legal histories similar to mine.
I wanted to reassure you that I'm about as well as possible within the circumstances. Oh, I also got my glasses from my visit to the eye doctor today. They are big and awkward, but I can see through them. Wonder how much they were?
So, as all is well with me, please direct future mail to South Bay, wherever that is, if you will. I need to get in touch with Chee Chee and let her know too. Now you know what I'm doing, sorry there isn't more.
Much love and regards,
James
Also, primarily due to my dietary habits, I'm once again sorely in need of more funds. Anything you provide will be consumed by myself alone. Thank you very much, even if you decide against it or are prevented for some inexplicable reason. My scathing expose` on the abuse of authority by the guard here is "in the works," as you might say. Anyhow,my next letter from a different address should continue in the way of recording abusive treatment.
Dear Mom,
I've owed you a letter but held off until something more definitive happened as far as a transfer location. I believe I'm being sent to a prison called South Bay C.F., ultimately. Right now, I'm at the North Florida Reception Center in Lake Butler. For celly's, lightening did strike twice as the one I received here also has 24 years in.
Not very much fun so far getting to my new location as we move only at the whim of the D.O.C., but once I do get settled there it should be a different story. Do you know the nicest thing about being released to general population? Actually, there isn't one there are many. Having access to a wider variety of items I can buy, the ability to exercise some of the weight off that I picked up, and being able to eat with a large number of others to start. Being able to use a regular type pen is no punishment, either. I got off to a rough start because I don't have an I.D. badge to buy things with, but expect to have one soon.
I have split feelings about leaving Suwannee; on the one hand, it was impossible to get me out of C.M. fast enough, and on the other hand, I found I had gotten about as close to Jesus as another man could so I hated to part from him. I just hope his review goes the way he thinks it will. Up to the parole board to let him go, and they just told him they will see him in five years. Excuse me for having an opinion, but being a fellow human and an inmate and knowing through seeing his reactions over time, I think they are wrong in their decision(s).
Once he makes it to open population, it will be much easier for him to do some things I don't even know if possible, being caged like he is. He says he will write both you and Renelle letters explaining better ways to effectively get decent treatment out of different prisons. I hope he doesn't wait too long, for many I've come to know have legal histories similar to mine.
I wanted to reassure you that I'm about as well as possible within the circumstances. Oh, I also got my glasses from my visit to the eye doctor today. They are big and awkward, but I can see through them. Wonder how much they were?
So, as all is well with me, please direct future mail to South Bay, wherever that is, if you will. I need to get in touch with Chee Chee and let her know too. Now you know what I'm doing, sorry there isn't more.
Much love and regards,
James
Also, primarily due to my dietary habits, I'm once again sorely in need of more funds. Anything you provide will be consumed by myself alone. Thank you very much, even if you decide against it or are prevented for some inexplicable reason. My scathing expose` on the abuse of authority by the guard here is "in the works," as you might say. Anyhow,my next letter from a different address should continue in the way of recording abusive treatment.
Letter 80
September 01, 2011
Dear Mom,
Hope your trip home went well. I plan on societal re-entry at some point relatively soon too. Jesus sends greetings and regards as well as his concern for Renelle even though I explained that it isn't her than got sick. He is distraught at the parole's mistreatment of his case as the one with the authority to release him either back to population or back to society basically laughed at him today...so.
On the other side of the outside window of our cell there is a huge spider with a web it always occupies. I jokingly tell Jesus that the spider is keeping him stuck here with its web. Well, Labor Day and then 9-11 anniversary. Hopefully I won't still be here for that anniversary though as there are some intensely patriotic inmates and guards here. Marking the anniversary is obsessive and unhealthy in my opinion. Have to be sure to include those words after any of my more inflammatory statements to try and leave this all behind me sooner rather than later.
Something I didn't bring up during our visit, likely because I'm spread so thin in these final days here is that I'd like very much to contact Laura again but I feel hesitant because so much time has passed without any effort made by myself. I'm not counting the last effort, it has been at least 12 years...over half of her life. If you can give me any pointers about do's and don'ts, I'd really appreciate it.
Otherwise, I don't have much I can talk about going on here. Hope your trip to West-by-God-Virginia goes well and you enjoy yourself. You could use a bit more enjoyment out of life these days. I need to close this letter now, for the usual reasons.
Much love, happy travels, and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Hope your trip home went well. I plan on societal re-entry at some point relatively soon too. Jesus sends greetings and regards as well as his concern for Renelle even though I explained that it isn't her than got sick. He is distraught at the parole's mistreatment of his case as the one with the authority to release him either back to population or back to society basically laughed at him today...so.
On the other side of the outside window of our cell there is a huge spider with a web it always occupies. I jokingly tell Jesus that the spider is keeping him stuck here with its web. Well, Labor Day and then 9-11 anniversary. Hopefully I won't still be here for that anniversary though as there are some intensely patriotic inmates and guards here. Marking the anniversary is obsessive and unhealthy in my opinion. Have to be sure to include those words after any of my more inflammatory statements to try and leave this all behind me sooner rather than later.
Something I didn't bring up during our visit, likely because I'm spread so thin in these final days here is that I'd like very much to contact Laura again but I feel hesitant because so much time has passed without any effort made by myself. I'm not counting the last effort, it has been at least 12 years...over half of her life. If you can give me any pointers about do's and don'ts, I'd really appreciate it.
Otherwise, I don't have much I can talk about going on here. Hope your trip to West-by-God-Virginia goes well and you enjoy yourself. You could use a bit more enjoyment out of life these days. I need to close this letter now, for the usual reasons.
Much love, happy travels, and regards,
James
Letter 79
August 25, 2011
Dear Mom,
As I've only got time for a quick note, I wanted to keep you directly updated on my status as officially as possible. I've been upgraded to general population status as of approximately 8:40 a.m. I knew I'd succeed if I just kept my head down, yessir, nossir'd enough, and kept sucking it up! I only wish the state classification guy had been there so I could be done with it through and through. All is well or better here, and I should still be here to visit with you and Renelle on the 1st of September, as I likely won't get transferred until the following Thursday.
I'm happy I don't have more exposure than I do to that rapid communication system known as inmate.com. It is loaded to 100% capacity with unsubstantiated rumors of every description lately. I'm trying to collapse the infra-structure or whatever is holding it together by overloading it further. I have trouble with sounding believable though, and that is a tremendous obstacle.
My locker is going to need a thorough overhaul, which includes taking the few books with me I'll be permitted and, by the way, what I'll do to insure that the Twain 10-in-1 doesn't get lost is get the property officer to mail it back to you until I E.O.S. I have already read all but three of the ten books and they were pretty dry and factual accounts, I thought.
Anyway, much to do quickly and suddenly. Jesus sends regards.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
As I've only got time for a quick note, I wanted to keep you directly updated on my status as officially as possible. I've been upgraded to general population status as of approximately 8:40 a.m. I knew I'd succeed if I just kept my head down, yessir, nossir'd enough, and kept sucking it up! I only wish the state classification guy had been there so I could be done with it through and through. All is well or better here, and I should still be here to visit with you and Renelle on the 1st of September, as I likely won't get transferred until the following Thursday.
I'm happy I don't have more exposure than I do to that rapid communication system known as inmate.com. It is loaded to 100% capacity with unsubstantiated rumors of every description lately. I'm trying to collapse the infra-structure or whatever is holding it together by overloading it further. I have trouble with sounding believable though, and that is a tremendous obstacle.
My locker is going to need a thorough overhaul, which includes taking the few books with me I'll be permitted and, by the way, what I'll do to insure that the Twain 10-in-1 doesn't get lost is get the property officer to mail it back to you until I E.O.S. I have already read all but three of the ten books and they were pretty dry and factual accounts, I thought.
Anyway, much to do quickly and suddenly. Jesus sends regards.
Much love and regards,
James
Friday, September 2, 2011
Letter 78
August 26, 2011
Dear Renelle,
Hi, and Jesus sends greetings as well. I feel I've got to "tell" someone of my experience just past--so here goes: I'm in my cell reading the 10th of the 10-in-one collection by Mark Twain, trying not to get over-excited about the next step in the process.
When the guard told me to "get dressed Class-A," I thought sure I was headed for a visit with the Col., classification officer and state classification officer, but a trip to see an eye doctor instead. My disappointment was mitigated when I realized the doctor could make me out a fully valid RX for readers. I thought hard about the character I would assume to him, as it turns out, needlessly. He fussed with this and that, muttering to himself about working with stone-age tools and so on.
The only time he caught me unawares was when he shot a puff of mist of some kind into my blind eye. Immediately he apologized, saying, "I had to be sure." The upshot of the visit, and subsequent groping returning to my cell, is that I'm getting bifocals. The top will help with really far-away things, and the bottom to read with.
The only time he caught me unawares was when he shot a puff of mist of some kind into my blind eye. Immediately he apologized, saying, "I had to be sure." The upshot of the visit, and subsequent groping returning to my cell, is that I'm getting bifocals. The top will help with really far-away things, and the bottom to read with.
At one point in the exam, the nurse/assistant told me she needed to put dilator drops into my eyes; then when she was just about to do it, she told me I might feel a tiny burning and be disoriented. I jerked my head away and asked how "tiny" a burning--I've only got one eye I can see out of. I'm not a robot and my spare parts are extremely valuable, to me at least.
So that botheration is out of the way, now if I have a visit with the I.C.T./State team, I'll be truly happy--blind, but happy. It doesn't have the appearance of being that fortuitous of a day, though. No matter, I just hope they didn't draw the process out eternally like they can. My mental faculties are getting quite the workout lately. I was reaching into my locker for some more paper and pulled out some stale bread! It wouldn't be quite so bad, I've got no clue how long it was in there.
Our dorm guard/housing officer just told me that they're taking a big group in I.C.T.on 8/25, so I'm more at ease in that respect. Thank whatever forces are in control I didn't miss out on that, no matter how good a reason. I'd rather be blind and free than sighted and caged.
It seems a pity to use the last S.A.S.E. left to mail such a short letter, so I'll wait until I.C.T./State, hopefully. Safe to say my mind had grown concerned about missed opportunity, until being reassured by our hausen-kop that it wouldn't be held until tomorrow, that is. I hope you're noticing the words I'm using they serve a self-explanatory purpose in signifying my growing offendedness at the gestapo tactics employed in my locality. Tomorrow, I should (I need to be careful about shoulding on myself) be able to officially serve notice that my 1/2-year hunger strike is drawing to a close. They're so petty here, you need to be on your A-game all the time here. In point of fact, Jesus was "trimmed" for his smurf-bottoms today when all the laundry was returned to us. They aren't the single pocket type, but the highly sought 4-pocket ones they don't issue to Close Management (C.M.) smurfs now.
On a bit brighter note, have you ever marked that in the same way clothing goes in and out of style--T.V. programs do as well? I suppose a case could be argued for this next being a complaint. I cannot understand for the price of my soul, the how/why of the wooly unwashed majority here passing time shouting their deepest/darkest back and forth cell to cell. Beyond that, sometimes it includes cells in the adjoining wings of the building, even. I hope one day for an answer to be revealed, as for now it doesn't make the least bit of sense. Then, the ones yelling out want to clam up and play at being angry. Hah! A hell no fury greater has than I, once I start rollin'.
Just got a very encouraging letter from two people who've been through both highs and lows with me and still claim me, shockingly. My mom and my aunt (in a condo made from stone-ah) in Arizona. I'm writing fast so I can beat the setting sun. My mom says you two are planning to come to this cow-town for a visit on the one-th, and I hope I'm able to contain my mud-slinging until I have the chance to run it past you first.
My aunt just keeps dealing with heartbreaking crises and loss. I know where she finds the strength to, but it seems her branch of the family tree has been severely and harshly afflicted with griefs to the body. She gets the strength to deal with all that from her parents (you met my Grandpa Goldman).
Anyway, out of room, out of light--almost out of time.
Here is the rest of the story. I miss Paul Harvey. Tell you who else I miss though you may feel different about him, Howard Cosell. Sure, the guy was about as abrasive as possible--but as far as announcing went, he kongsized talent among the plebian pygmies.
I never will forget a football game he was doing the play-by-play for, with "Dandy" Don Meredith as his "new" sidekick. As per his usual, Howard went off into fantasy land during some otherwise dead air, and Don was increasingly visibly agitated. He let him go another minute before bursting out to say, "Shut up, Howard--no one cares! They're all making trips to get more beer or use the toilet now, so just shut your mouth."
The game had an unscheduled commercial break then. When they came back, it was like Cosell never had anyone with him, his removal was so thorough.
I never will forget a football game he was doing the play-by-play for, with "Dandy" Don Meredith as his "new" sidekick. As per his usual, Howard went off into fantasy land during some otherwise dead air, and Don was increasingly visibly agitated. He let him go another minute before bursting out to say, "Shut up, Howard--no one cares! They're all making trips to get more beer or use the toilet now, so just shut your mouth."
The game had an unscheduled commercial break then. When they came back, it was like Cosell never had anyone with him, his removal was so thorough.
There is a reason I recalled that long-ago event. In the same way the commentating career of "Dandy" Don was cut short by his own comments, I think I heard that the F.D.O.C. secretary resigned after disputing with Uncle Rick about the budgetary allotment. I'd really appreciate knowing more about it, as this is an issue a bit closer that usual for comfort.
I'm finding myself routinely in the unenviable position of being able to go on with the vainly blithe presumption that all is like it was as recently as '09 even. This realization is having a powerful pre-emtively disconcerting effect on my senses, partly my sense of context. Added to my innate knowledge of right/wrong or good/bad being overtaxed, is the question I've faced up to after denying it all my life up until now: why couldn't I have been stupid and happy instead of having to know why all the time?
--Newsbreak--I'm upgraded from C.M. to general population status (?), though I didn't have the opportunity to meet with State and tell him where I'd like to finish up at. I'm told by the institutional team that the State representative will be able to see me before Monday. Now that is about as official as can be; ironically, I don't feel much different. Sort of anticlimactic, truthfully. Now, I really need my wits about me, though, as it would be tantamount to a breakdown if I snatched defeat out of the mouth of victory at this stage!
The program this station is currently offering has episodically concluded. You are now returned to the regularly-scheduled programs.
However, though I don't know if this bodes ill or well, I was just seen by the State Classification guy today as well--who predictably was unable to be sure about where I'll finish out my sentence, but I don't mind too much as long as they sell coffee where I'm at.
The fact that I saw him on the same day I was made official is a very good sign, though, that I'll end where I want to. Now, anything is possible to happen on any weekday. Though I hope I'll be here for your visit on the oneth, I've done my time and am ready to move on from here. It is a very conflictory development, compressing further my needed preparation for travel. 'Tis a good thing, truly.
Somehow I'll have to recover from the shock of being separated from all these mensa candidates. Don't know how, though. I'll be thinking about doing a piece on having a divided mind and negotiating with it until my next letter. Until then, I'll be like the hare in Alice's Wonderland.
Your very late friend,
James
--Newsbreak--I'm upgraded from C.M. to general population status (?), though I didn't have the opportunity to meet with State and tell him where I'd like to finish up at. I'm told by the institutional team that the State representative will be able to see me before Monday. Now that is about as official as can be; ironically, I don't feel much different. Sort of anticlimactic, truthfully. Now, I really need my wits about me, though, as it would be tantamount to a breakdown if I snatched defeat out of the mouth of victory at this stage!
The program this station is currently offering has episodically concluded. You are now returned to the regularly-scheduled programs.
However, though I don't know if this bodes ill or well, I was just seen by the State Classification guy today as well--who predictably was unable to be sure about where I'll finish out my sentence, but I don't mind too much as long as they sell coffee where I'm at.
The fact that I saw him on the same day I was made official is a very good sign, though, that I'll end where I want to. Now, anything is possible to happen on any weekday. Though I hope I'll be here for your visit on the oneth, I've done my time and am ready to move on from here. It is a very conflictory development, compressing further my needed preparation for travel. 'Tis a good thing, truly.
Somehow I'll have to recover from the shock of being separated from all these mensa candidates. Don't know how, though. I'll be thinking about doing a piece on having a divided mind and negotiating with it until my next letter. Until then, I'll be like the hare in Alice's Wonderland.
Your very late friend,
James
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Letter 77
August 23, 2011
Dear Mom,
Hello again..from here in a dismal and disappointing dungeon. I'm finding it no longer even remotely amusing to be here. A Sgt. explained to us smurfs recently that from now on there will be two inspections per shift, per day, Saturday/Sunday included! We are to have no more than a day or two of stubble for our beards, and haircuts are mandatory/enforced! Pretty soon, I can imagine them editing our thoughts too. Don't pay attention to me though, I can't even vote in a public election. My opinions don't count.
I vent. Self-editing is important as an ability, but I just don't have the ability to rein myself in as others do. I really meant no harm in my letters to Renelle, but I guess they weren't read that way. I've got about a half hour worth of speaking to do the next time we visit, and I explained in a letter to her that if I can't air it somehow...it not only isn't any good, but may cause me irreparable harm from holding it in. In that way,I suppose that is similar to resolving to not urinate. What happens when one goes to sleep?
So, what's going on in your world? Nothing too stressful, hopefully. Seems like this keeps getting worse and more strict by the day. I'm so glad, happy and joyful I'm scheduled to see the I.C.T./State Group tomorrow...like you couldn't believe! I can hardly believe it myself. Regarding my beliefs, I may need to continue this tomorrow, being as I'm unable to see without light. I've got a lot to say but the timing is off. Go figure, huh.
I suppose you could say I've got a type of integrity about myself, though I wouldn't say that about myself. In my mind, I fall short of the definition in at least one area: Doing right because it is right. My mental deconstruction is getting close to the bone: I'd managed to get some extra bread yesterday, so I put it into my locker with the thought I'd get to it as soon as I could. This morning, I looked in my locker and found it. In spite of what I hear good naturedly from Jesus, it comes out as having too many irons in too many fires. I'm trying out a new way of looking like I've got it together. I got a shave Tuesday that I didn't notice was uneven until I was in front of a mirror. The mirror I was looking in happens to be in our cell.
Oh well, just so long as I get where I'm wanting to go it makes little difference in the grand scheme of things.
Regarding the larger picture, meaning how I'd like to finish my time out, my first choice would be at Tomoka for the reason they have a faith-based program there that I'd like to investigate. Dad seems to downplay it for a possibility though, as he says the place is geared for those with ultra-lengthy sentences. So, with all that in mind, the prison that could make the most realistic sense to get into might be the one in Zephyrhills. My reasoning for that is they only have 40 and older inmates there.
Any way you consider it, I'm well up the creek...but I don't need to look further than my reflection for one to blame. If only. I need to start cracking that whip soon or the day is going to go by without me moving. A life-form ought to be more mobile than sedentary, in my opinion. Jesus sends his regards.
Much love and regards,
James
It was a good thing you sent that extra money...I finally had an eye exam and I'm getting glasses. I don't know how much I'll be charged for them, though likely not what they would cost as a free man. That is the single advantage to being here that I know of.
Just got your letter of the 19th. Jesus was extremely happy to get the pictures of the guy he asked for and says thank you very much. His English improves steadily, too bad my Spanish doesn't! He says he hopes your health continues to improve, too. I'm bewildered as to the actual date of my formal review by the institutional and state classification people. I, too, had been told by Mr. Goodwin it would be today, Wednesday, but the only thing that happened is I finally got to see an eye doctor. Anyhow, tomorrow is the day (August 25th), knock on wood. Most likely, I'll still be here until September 7th or later, and looking eagerly forward to a visit from you and Renelle, as I have much to sling dirt about! Because I could be paranoid doesn't exclude the possibility that people are plotting against me...in other words, I need to quit.
Dear Mom,
Hello again..from here in a dismal and disappointing dungeon. I'm finding it no longer even remotely amusing to be here. A Sgt. explained to us smurfs recently that from now on there will be two inspections per shift, per day, Saturday/Sunday included! We are to have no more than a day or two of stubble for our beards, and haircuts are mandatory/enforced! Pretty soon, I can imagine them editing our thoughts too. Don't pay attention to me though, I can't even vote in a public election. My opinions don't count.
I vent. Self-editing is important as an ability, but I just don't have the ability to rein myself in as others do. I really meant no harm in my letters to Renelle, but I guess they weren't read that way. I've got about a half hour worth of speaking to do the next time we visit, and I explained in a letter to her that if I can't air it somehow...it not only isn't any good, but may cause me irreparable harm from holding it in. In that way,I suppose that is similar to resolving to not urinate. What happens when one goes to sleep?
So, what's going on in your world? Nothing too stressful, hopefully. Seems like this keeps getting worse and more strict by the day. I'm so glad, happy and joyful I'm scheduled to see the I.C.T./State Group tomorrow...like you couldn't believe! I can hardly believe it myself. Regarding my beliefs, I may need to continue this tomorrow, being as I'm unable to see without light. I've got a lot to say but the timing is off. Go figure, huh.
I suppose you could say I've got a type of integrity about myself, though I wouldn't say that about myself. In my mind, I fall short of the definition in at least one area: Doing right because it is right. My mental deconstruction is getting close to the bone: I'd managed to get some extra bread yesterday, so I put it into my locker with the thought I'd get to it as soon as I could. This morning, I looked in my locker and found it. In spite of what I hear good naturedly from Jesus, it comes out as having too many irons in too many fires. I'm trying out a new way of looking like I've got it together. I got a shave Tuesday that I didn't notice was uneven until I was in front of a mirror. The mirror I was looking in happens to be in our cell.
Oh well, just so long as I get where I'm wanting to go it makes little difference in the grand scheme of things.
Regarding the larger picture, meaning how I'd like to finish my time out, my first choice would be at Tomoka for the reason they have a faith-based program there that I'd like to investigate. Dad seems to downplay it for a possibility though, as he says the place is geared for those with ultra-lengthy sentences. So, with all that in mind, the prison that could make the most realistic sense to get into might be the one in Zephyrhills. My reasoning for that is they only have 40 and older inmates there.
Any way you consider it, I'm well up the creek...but I don't need to look further than my reflection for one to blame. If only. I need to start cracking that whip soon or the day is going to go by without me moving. A life-form ought to be more mobile than sedentary, in my opinion. Jesus sends his regards.
Much love and regards,
James
It was a good thing you sent that extra money...I finally had an eye exam and I'm getting glasses. I don't know how much I'll be charged for them, though likely not what they would cost as a free man. That is the single advantage to being here that I know of.
Just got your letter of the 19th. Jesus was extremely happy to get the pictures of the guy he asked for and says thank you very much. His English improves steadily, too bad my Spanish doesn't! He says he hopes your health continues to improve, too. I'm bewildered as to the actual date of my formal review by the institutional and state classification people. I, too, had been told by Mr. Goodwin it would be today, Wednesday, but the only thing that happened is I finally got to see an eye doctor. Anyhow, tomorrow is the day (August 25th), knock on wood. Most likely, I'll still be here until September 7th or later, and looking eagerly forward to a visit from you and Renelle, as I have much to sling dirt about! Because I could be paranoid doesn't exclude the possibility that people are plotting against me...in other words, I need to quit.
Letter 76
August 16, 2011
Dear Mom,
Like the old commercial for a phone carrier, "Can you hear me now?" Let me assure you foremost that I'm okay. Though I believe Jesus is as well, I hesitate to speak for him as I could easily be mistaken. He gives off no signals as precursor to indicate how he really is...sphinx like. For the main, this chapter of my sentence is hopefully drawing to a close now.
I really don't think you need to concern yourself regarding Jesus at all. He has already taken steps, before his review, to safeguard the money set aside for the legal work. When he returns in a few minutes, I'll ask what they were. We are going through a tempest in a teapot here. I'll explain the best I can.
The "Recreation Squad" generally gets away with a lot that the regular officers/staff don't, as they provide a service that is optional to them...and it is outdoors. They don't seem to answer to a Lt. or Captain/Major either. In any case, I'm confusing the issue. They decided to make up some recreation time to us because of getting bumped by weather so often. However, an inspection was going on when they were coming on our wing and they couldn't yell out "Rec" as usual. I heard something, and spotted them coming and that is the only reason Jesus was alerted in time.
They left many behind that otherwise would go, touching off much noisy yelling of questions...impotently. Recreation Officers do whatever they want, regardless of any recourse by a smurf, and this is not right. That is another reason I don't play those reindeer games. So, and this is still developing, the only possible way to get any satisfaction is to tell an officer that one feels suicidal, making it an automatic psych. emergency, and involving the dorm Sgt. and on up.
The problem with that approach is that if at any time afterwards, some officer feels that it doesn't qualify as a bonafide emergency, then one is slammed with a D/R, lengthening the time one is on Close Management status by at least the time spent in disciplinary confinement. I'm not a shrink, but I'd bet $20 that is exactly what is happening here right now.
Jesus says he hopes your back gets better and, although he is impressed with your concern for him, he wants you to know it is without merit as he has many friends to watch his back. His words, not mine.
I really thought I had more to let you know; unfortunately, my musing was interrupted by lunch. I think the food situation has hit a plateau in terms of being offensive. Much like I was, it arrived small and hated. I have a long way to go to make it right with Renelle. Well, can think of nothing else to tell you, so I guess I'll stop now.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. These are Jesus' words, not mine here: He says he wants a girlfriend of a reasonable age, to send him mail so he can further polish his English skills in writing. He is asking if you can help. He is already fairly fluent in speaking English. Now, I told him you are not my "pimp"...you're my mom. The debate intensifies. For some reason, he is possessed by an urge to make up for lost time, educationally. Anyway, just to put a bug in your ear. Renelle is already in on the plot.
Dear Mom,
Like the old commercial for a phone carrier, "Can you hear me now?" Let me assure you foremost that I'm okay. Though I believe Jesus is as well, I hesitate to speak for him as I could easily be mistaken. He gives off no signals as precursor to indicate how he really is...sphinx like. For the main, this chapter of my sentence is hopefully drawing to a close now.
I really don't think you need to concern yourself regarding Jesus at all. He has already taken steps, before his review, to safeguard the money set aside for the legal work. When he returns in a few minutes, I'll ask what they were. We are going through a tempest in a teapot here. I'll explain the best I can.
The "Recreation Squad" generally gets away with a lot that the regular officers/staff don't, as they provide a service that is optional to them...and it is outdoors. They don't seem to answer to a Lt. or Captain/Major either. In any case, I'm confusing the issue. They decided to make up some recreation time to us because of getting bumped by weather so often. However, an inspection was going on when they were coming on our wing and they couldn't yell out "Rec" as usual. I heard something, and spotted them coming and that is the only reason Jesus was alerted in time.
They left many behind that otherwise would go, touching off much noisy yelling of questions...impotently. Recreation Officers do whatever they want, regardless of any recourse by a smurf, and this is not right. That is another reason I don't play those reindeer games. So, and this is still developing, the only possible way to get any satisfaction is to tell an officer that one feels suicidal, making it an automatic psych. emergency, and involving the dorm Sgt. and on up.
The problem with that approach is that if at any time afterwards, some officer feels that it doesn't qualify as a bonafide emergency, then one is slammed with a D/R, lengthening the time one is on Close Management status by at least the time spent in disciplinary confinement. I'm not a shrink, but I'd bet $20 that is exactly what is happening here right now.
Jesus says he hopes your back gets better and, although he is impressed with your concern for him, he wants you to know it is without merit as he has many friends to watch his back. His words, not mine.
I really thought I had more to let you know; unfortunately, my musing was interrupted by lunch. I think the food situation has hit a plateau in terms of being offensive. Much like I was, it arrived small and hated. I have a long way to go to make it right with Renelle. Well, can think of nothing else to tell you, so I guess I'll stop now.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. These are Jesus' words, not mine here: He says he wants a girlfriend of a reasonable age, to send him mail so he can further polish his English skills in writing. He is asking if you can help. He is already fairly fluent in speaking English. Now, I told him you are not my "pimp"...you're my mom. The debate intensifies. For some reason, he is possessed by an urge to make up for lost time, educationally. Anyway, just to put a bug in your ear. Renelle is already in on the plot.
Letter 75
August 21, 2011
Dear Mom,
Greetings from the land of anarchy. I'm joking; the time seems frozen or passing before I realize it...no in between. Since getting the all-important good review, the next and hopefully last phase of these proceedings is due to occur on August 24th. This entails being seen by the State Classification
Officer at which time I am given the opportunity to tell him where I would like to go to finish up.
I'm occupying myself over the weekend with collating and condensing what I intend to bring along on my journey to wherever I'm sent. It is a trying job for sure! More than likely, I should have been a mite more particular about all the junk I've kept socked away in my locker. Oh well, at least I'm not bored. It is relatively easy to keep my editorial opinions to myself now that I can ill-afford to be hit with a D.R. It is easy for me to see now how all of my experiences while incarcerated have been geared to break down my mind. If not for the combination of wise counsel from Jesus, coupled with being very motivated not to stay, I would have broken many a time.
Even so, the petty annoyances continue to mount here. The doctor that came to see me was escorted off the property and will suffer multiple charges, so I heard. I don't know how this letter will sit with the censor that reads it, but don't take this as a fact as it is only hearsay at this point. It seems he was first being checked out for the number of dietary passes he had approved. I don't know if this is true or not, but I've heard that one charge he will need to answer for is one of over-medicating those under his care. I long suspected something was amiss with the remeron I had to take. The reason I opened this the way I did is that since our Lt. was promoted to Captain he has either been on vacation or moved to another prison. I bring this up to mention that, as far as I know, he has yet to be replaced. Seems I'm going to be transferred none too soon from here. A great many gang members are being moved into the wing, and violence is sure to follow, giving more weight to the argument that things are "too soft" here, I'm sure. As if...otherwise, all is well, if that is any kind of correct terminology for the state of affairs here.
I've been considering my desire to contact Laura, and maybe you can coach me on that. Nothing would quite be as gratifying to me as a letter from her would be. Of course, that isn't likely...with her dividing her focus between school and a boyfriend. I wasn't born into captivity and, being young once myself, it isn't difficult to figure out which will get the lion's share of attention. I only hope that I don't become a grandpa while I'm still in prison. I want to tell her there is plenty of time for romance, but educating herself is very time-sensitive. Do you think that would be appropriate?
Jesus sends his regards, and it just occurred to me to ask why the glyphic representation of his name...when it would take a true simpleton not to know who is being referred to. I rest my case. Something else I may need help in is what alternate prison I want to go to for the rest of the time I have to serve. Tomoka is first, as they have a faith-based program I'm interested in. Where I want to go if unable to go there is the prison in Zephyrhills as they take only inmates age 40 and over.
Dad mentioned something about you knowing of a camp with computer access? That one I haven't heard of. If it exists, it is likely restricted to inmates with low custody levels or something like that. Write me and let me know. Guess my break is over.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Greetings from the land of anarchy. I'm joking; the time seems frozen or passing before I realize it...no in between. Since getting the all-important good review, the next and hopefully last phase of these proceedings is due to occur on August 24th. This entails being seen by the State Classification
Officer at which time I am given the opportunity to tell him where I would like to go to finish up.
I'm occupying myself over the weekend with collating and condensing what I intend to bring along on my journey to wherever I'm sent. It is a trying job for sure! More than likely, I should have been a mite more particular about all the junk I've kept socked away in my locker. Oh well, at least I'm not bored. It is relatively easy to keep my editorial opinions to myself now that I can ill-afford to be hit with a D.R. It is easy for me to see now how all of my experiences while incarcerated have been geared to break down my mind. If not for the combination of wise counsel from Jesus, coupled with being very motivated not to stay, I would have broken many a time.
Even so, the petty annoyances continue to mount here. The doctor that came to see me was escorted off the property and will suffer multiple charges, so I heard. I don't know how this letter will sit with the censor that reads it, but don't take this as a fact as it is only hearsay at this point. It seems he was first being checked out for the number of dietary passes he had approved. I don't know if this is true or not, but I've heard that one charge he will need to answer for is one of over-medicating those under his care. I long suspected something was amiss with the remeron I had to take. The reason I opened this the way I did is that since our Lt. was promoted to Captain he has either been on vacation or moved to another prison. I bring this up to mention that, as far as I know, he has yet to be replaced. Seems I'm going to be transferred none too soon from here. A great many gang members are being moved into the wing, and violence is sure to follow, giving more weight to the argument that things are "too soft" here, I'm sure. As if...otherwise, all is well, if that is any kind of correct terminology for the state of affairs here.
I've been considering my desire to contact Laura, and maybe you can coach me on that. Nothing would quite be as gratifying to me as a letter from her would be. Of course, that isn't likely...with her dividing her focus between school and a boyfriend. I wasn't born into captivity and, being young once myself, it isn't difficult to figure out which will get the lion's share of attention. I only hope that I don't become a grandpa while I'm still in prison. I want to tell her there is plenty of time for romance, but educating herself is very time-sensitive. Do you think that would be appropriate?
Jesus sends his regards, and it just occurred to me to ask why the glyphic representation of his name...when it would take a true simpleton not to know who is being referred to. I rest my case. Something else I may need help in is what alternate prison I want to go to for the rest of the time I have to serve. Tomoka is first, as they have a faith-based program I'm interested in. Where I want to go if unable to go there is the prison in Zephyrhills as they take only inmates age 40 and over.
Dad mentioned something about you knowing of a camp with computer access? That one I haven't heard of. If it exists, it is likely restricted to inmates with low custody levels or something like that. Write me and let me know. Guess my break is over.
Much love and regards,
James
Friday, August 19, 2011
Letter 74
August 14, 2011
Dear Mom,
Well, here it is past my due-date for returning books to the library. Don't they realize the library police can levy quite a hefty fine on me for keeping books this long? If only it were such a simple/easy matter to untangle. There is definite cause for hope in my little self-centric world though; it is very possible I failed to mention that my classification officer spoke with me briefly on August 12th, so at least it is likely that he will give the wheels a nudge to either keep me officially or let me go. This being in the dark stuff isn't me any longer.
So, how are you...what are you up to lately? Hopefully you aren't taking on too much at once, you are the only you there is and no one has a spare. For myself, I continue on merrily enduring the derivations of C.M. status with a smile. Just because I smile doesn't mean I'm happy, though. A trait I picked up after being homeless for some years that is kind of like a mask.
J is displaying a marked interest in polishing his already vastly improved English skills. To the point he has the Blue Book of English Grammar as much as I do now. Through many negotiations, we settled on an arrangement that is as fair as anything I am able to come up with: He holds the books that won't fit into my locker for me until I want them, and then I exchange them on a one for one basis. I've got a ton of reading to do now, but one thing has me concerned.
This huge Mark Twain ten-book volume could be counted as ten books putting me way over the limit for the half dozen I'm allowed to keep when I go to the Rec. Center again. I'm not sure if I can keep them with me and I might have to send them to you until I'm in a more permanent situation. Of course, this concession will be moot if I'm given a poor review for some reason. All of my hopes are tied to being transferred this month, and if I had not seen Mr. Goodwin, I might still be in the dark next month as well.
I feel almost like I'm depriving myself. I need to fully explain that statement as it can be easily misconstrued. For some reason beyond my understanding, J wasted no time in giving away the ten food items we get a week. As strange as that was, he seems to be taking on a stance more like myself. I haven't asked him why...but I intend to. That resulted in my again being the only one with anything to snack on, which is growing more of a necessity daily. I don't eat in front of him while I know he is hungry. So, the above is true. (Note from Mom: It is my belief that J is using some of his food money to negotiate contraband items or favors from other prisoners...like cigarettes. James can't say that in a letter.)
Other traits are emerging from his taciturn personality; well, more like longings would be better terminology. Although he has pretty much accepted the fact that he may not leave someplace on this side of the gate, without any obvious anger he has made mention of the fact that I get mail weekly from either you, Chee Chee, or Renelle. Not that he doesn't want me to get the letters, but he would appreciate getting mail in addition to the sporadic letter from Mauro. He would like to correspond with a woman roughly his age (50).
In no way does this reflect any dissatisfaction with Mauro. It is difficult to explain how this is with a guy who is like a Sphinx: in for a penny, in for a pound though. It would make the time go by much easier with someone he could correspond with more often. I'm not asking you to be a pimp for anyone; still, I can only imagine the loneliness he has endured. I know it is hard to imagine times desperate enough to cause me to look back on this as the good old days, no matter what the song by Carly Simon said.
Time to get this in the mail, but I've got a question to ask on J's behalf. The picture you sent of him from the Internet was sent off to Mauro, so now he would like to have two or three more for his family and friends, if you wouldn't mind sending them. Tempus fugit (time flies), or something like that.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. Additionally, would like a picture of Luis Gonzales, DC #M35784, for comparison purposes. Thanks.
Dear Mom,
Well, here it is past my due-date for returning books to the library. Don't they realize the library police can levy quite a hefty fine on me for keeping books this long? If only it were such a simple/easy matter to untangle. There is definite cause for hope in my little self-centric world though; it is very possible I failed to mention that my classification officer spoke with me briefly on August 12th, so at least it is likely that he will give the wheels a nudge to either keep me officially or let me go. This being in the dark stuff isn't me any longer.
So, how are you...what are you up to lately? Hopefully you aren't taking on too much at once, you are the only you there is and no one has a spare. For myself, I continue on merrily enduring the derivations of C.M. status with a smile. Just because I smile doesn't mean I'm happy, though. A trait I picked up after being homeless for some years that is kind of like a mask.
J is displaying a marked interest in polishing his already vastly improved English skills. To the point he has the Blue Book of English Grammar as much as I do now. Through many negotiations, we settled on an arrangement that is as fair as anything I am able to come up with: He holds the books that won't fit into my locker for me until I want them, and then I exchange them on a one for one basis. I've got a ton of reading to do now, but one thing has me concerned.
This huge Mark Twain ten-book volume could be counted as ten books putting me way over the limit for the half dozen I'm allowed to keep when I go to the Rec. Center again. I'm not sure if I can keep them with me and I might have to send them to you until I'm in a more permanent situation. Of course, this concession will be moot if I'm given a poor review for some reason. All of my hopes are tied to being transferred this month, and if I had not seen Mr. Goodwin, I might still be in the dark next month as well.
I feel almost like I'm depriving myself. I need to fully explain that statement as it can be easily misconstrued. For some reason beyond my understanding, J wasted no time in giving away the ten food items we get a week. As strange as that was, he seems to be taking on a stance more like myself. I haven't asked him why...but I intend to. That resulted in my again being the only one with anything to snack on, which is growing more of a necessity daily. I don't eat in front of him while I know he is hungry. So, the above is true. (Note from Mom: It is my belief that J is using some of his food money to negotiate contraband items or favors from other prisoners...like cigarettes. James can't say that in a letter.)
Other traits are emerging from his taciturn personality; well, more like longings would be better terminology. Although he has pretty much accepted the fact that he may not leave someplace on this side of the gate, without any obvious anger he has made mention of the fact that I get mail weekly from either you, Chee Chee, or Renelle. Not that he doesn't want me to get the letters, but he would appreciate getting mail in addition to the sporadic letter from Mauro. He would like to correspond with a woman roughly his age (50).
In no way does this reflect any dissatisfaction with Mauro. It is difficult to explain how this is with a guy who is like a Sphinx: in for a penny, in for a pound though. It would make the time go by much easier with someone he could correspond with more often. I'm not asking you to be a pimp for anyone; still, I can only imagine the loneliness he has endured. I know it is hard to imagine times desperate enough to cause me to look back on this as the good old days, no matter what the song by Carly Simon said.
Time to get this in the mail, but I've got a question to ask on J's behalf. The picture you sent of him from the Internet was sent off to Mauro, so now he would like to have two or three more for his family and friends, if you wouldn't mind sending them. Tempus fugit (time flies), or something like that.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. Additionally, would like a picture of Luis Gonzales, DC #M35784, for comparison purposes. Thanks.
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