Letter 5

3/1/2011

Dear Renelle,

      Hopefully your hand is on the mend, and your spirits are as well. Though I’m unable to note how I “feel your loss” or any similar verbal garbage, I am able to offer my condolence and consolation. I know right now you likely won’t see past these words to the spirit that forms them, but I don’t think Savannah would want you to be sad. The only thing I’ve been through at all like it is when I had a cat that “brought a six-shooter to an argument with 20 people.” (Remind me to explain about the cat later, please.)

      At the moment, I’ve sort of got my hands full. My celly is quite a guy, but I’ve seen the savage come out in him. He put his hands on me, talking some gibberish about “respecting him” and took all the stuff I’d gotten from the canteen/store. He gave it back after I’d twisted on a skewer for a while, but I did see how fast he could “thug out.”

      Also, hope you appreciate the wit installed in the writing on the other side. I would’ve put more into it, but it also contains some of my more serious observations/thought, and I couldn’t separate them enough not to be able to tell one from the other. I’m getting my Muse-fix from an author named Thomas Perry, a man with a truly frightening mind whose suspense novels are about killers and their trade(s). If you’ve happened on the name, he’s won Edgars for some of his earlier work.

      At times, I still get thinking I’m trapped in a Moronathon, and they last until dispelled by quasi-intellectual pursuit of some type. Such is (this) life. Rather bland at the moment—no drama. I’m not trying to get to know anyone here well enough to realize a change has occurred, either. The same can be said for them knowing me. It’s a trade, enjoyment for anonymity—but one that should be beneficial to me in the end. Regarding “beneficial”—I’d better make my need of an order form known before they “run-out,” hmmm. More later.

Your friend,

James