Letter 29

Mailed May 6, 2011

Dear Renelle,

How are you getting along? Happily, hopefully. I once again am a dominant figure in my world, which likely leaves you with an odd expression on your face and thinking that the cheese has permanently fallen from my cracker. This statement calls for, no--it demands an explanation! O.K.

Once in awhile, I find myself taking on a great number of roles for everyone and consequently resulting in a lesser amount of time to devote to my own personal economy, if you will. Time passes with me placing others' values (needs and wants) above my own. I'll generally shock people when I tell them (and myself) an unequivocal no--I just can't anymore. The well is dry. Tapped out. Not going to happen. You get the point I'm making, right?

This morning I considered all the problems, usually self-imposed, that I've solved or otherwise mitigated since coming here--and decided I needed some time to devote to me. So now, for the foreseeable future--anyone asks, I can feel them--but can't reach them. Hope that satisfies for an explanation, as I don't have but the one me and can't divide myself up to be able to attend to others here. I'm reaffirming that I'm indivisible, in other words. Finally, I've got my true potential to explore--I just don't have any/enough stamps to mail my explorations for anyone else to see. Oh well, they aren't those who truly benefit from them, even though they may experience a by-product of such as happiness.

The one small cloud on the horizon I see, is that my radio seems to be breaking down. For some reason, it inexplicably doesn't provide me with the former full range of sound any longer. Bound to happen with the built-in breakdowns inherent in these cheaply made radios. Next time, I won't low-ball my budget. 

Music used to be a central fact of my existence, and I placed a high value on my recordings. Slowly, yet surely, life got me into a choke-hold, and I lost my sense of definement that my collection provided for me. It got to be awfully tough to keep it all together, as at its largest, it would've filled an average-sized room. I'm a little embarrassed by the way I finally let it go, too.

I knew my discharge papers were finally coming through at a psychiatric hospital in Tarpon Springs (that no longer exists), so I was clearing the dining room (175 tables) as part of my "job." I'd already spoken for the last time with my doctor and was due to leave anytime I chose. 

Anyhow, I was drinking a cup of coffee with a guy about 19 or 20 years old, when I had a win-win idea. I told this guy if he could eat the centerpiece floral arrangements--all of them--I'd give him my album collection. Bedipped, he actually did it!

What's the win-win part? If he couldn't have done it, that would've allowed me to not only witness him likely doing the technicolor yawn, but I would give at least most of my collection away, so as to make it more portable. Though, he did do it, and true to my word, I gave my collection to him so I wouldn't need to carry it around with me in an uncertain future.

I've just come back to my cell after being a (lonely) bather/shaved/finger-toenails trimmed. Let me state to all readers, that it's a very unwise thing to have someone else cut your nails! Universal ouch! Anyway, I got your letter (5/1) and was impressed by the candor you tackle subjects with. Seems like life isn't treating me like a rented mule after all. I actually have "it" better than most in here, but try to keep that quiet.

Dang! That smarts! I just got popped in the eye by a rubber band springing from my pen. That will teach me, though what it will, I have no idea. I like the new approach I've adopted to facing life situations. I feel much freer than yesterday--I felt like I was carrying another person tied to me at hands and feet. The one tied to me had a mind of their own and was always pulling against me! 

Anyway (lest I sidetrack myself before completing this thought!), I want to thank you for the glimpse into your past you included in your letter. It helps to know I'm not the only one awaiting the Mother Ship's return! I seriously need to interact with some more (normal?) everyday people before I get pulled so far into my world of imagination that I can't get out! Even Jesus is talking about leaving me! He wants a more "beneficial celly," or something. Kay, uh-huh. 

Curioser and curioser, but-I'm distracting from my purpose of finishing that particular thought again. I used to have a recurring dream theme where I would be the only mind among a galaxy of plant-life. No one else, and I looked hard for another one like me, but had to, finally, just live with the fact that another me just doesn't exist. Know what, here I am! These dreams come true once in a while.

I never was attracted to I.V. drugs, but not because of just the fact needles scare me. I had a moment of clarity the first time I had an opportunity to inject: I realized that I wouldn't always be in as "safe" an environment as I was in then; I would likely combine the drugs I used prior to popping myself--and didn't know what the combined effect would be to me; if I got good at it, the chance I'd get a "hot-shot" got greater with each use, etc., which was enough to turn me off the I.V. method--plus the guy that offered it to me was 23 years old, had no teeth, and I could count all his bones. Had the skull-grin death's head happening. This was on my move to Orlando with my dad. Freaked my mind out. 'Nuff written.

I was wondering if you would do me (another) favor? I just caught the very tail-end of a radio broadcast mentioning that the information presented was found on www.theendofamerica#66. If you could look it up for me and "tell" me what it has on it, I'd be grateful. 

I don't do much, don't go outdoors (no shoes I can wear like I have to), and even the time I have to watch our new plasma (!) TV set is ruined by someone's stupidity (I know). There are only so many ways (without getting written up) to distract/amuse myself here. Though I have much to learn about time, I do all it's possible to do, to disappear completely from the radar scopes of the ones running this prison and to present only a minimal image to the others here. I start picking out rifles/rooftops and I know my monster is on the loose again. Time to rediscipline myself; I'm just glad that hasn't happened since Turkey Day '09.

Well, guess I should try to put a stop to this before it becomes self-aware. I'm writing some more plainly true history of myself that I'll send out when I reach a stopping point. Hey, I nearly forgot my rhino-dart still needs to get taken. Better days (soon, I hope!)

Your quizzical friend,

James