May 5, 2011
Though I do all I'm able not to, it seems to me that I continue to lead a life of adventure (though in this case it's been sealed down a bit). To wit: the latest episode involved the remanding of all sheets, blankets to be washed (allegedly) on a once-monthly bases. Due to my impaired-ness (as I am still quite hammered by my meds at 4 a.m.), I made an assumption that may prove to be a chilly one. What the assumption I naturally made (being as my blanket had seen better times), was that the laundry people would wash and return my blanket to me. Now I no longer have a blanket, and the laundry denies receiving mine--so I'm out of gas with that issue!
Though I do all I'm able not to, it seems to me that I continue to lead a life of adventure (though in this case it's been sealed down a bit). To wit: the latest episode involved the remanding of all sheets, blankets to be washed (allegedly) on a once-monthly bases. Due to my impaired-ness (as I am still quite hammered by my meds at 4 a.m.), I made an assumption that may prove to be a chilly one. What the assumption I naturally made (being as my blanket had seen better times), was that the laundry people would wash and return my blanket to me. Now I no longer have a blanket, and the laundry denies receiving mine--so I'm out of gas with that issue!
I mistakenly spoke out against it the other day. I presented it to be the breach of peace it is, and further that it would rule the life of each of the afflicted instantly, completely, and finally. What I actually succeeded in was turning away a great number of potentially beneficial relationships and generating a great deal of animosity against me for any number of things. I'd forgotten the foremost rule which had guided my interactions here: I have to live here, too! That decision may make it interesting to be me for awhile.
Yet, I promised myself I'd write nothing that could be misunderstood as negative, so--continuing on, back to my adventurous life. . . .
I'm unsure if it's properly called a talent, knack, skill, or what have you--all I know is that it's getting awfully worn through with me as the one always left holding the collective bag! It's not that it's always unpleasant, I just wasn't put together for the kind of stresses adventuring involves at my age. I've done just about all a body can do--and somehow my "glue" has held up--and now it's time for me to start to settle down, so I can catch my breath at least.
The increasing and relentless pace of my "life" surely is driving me into ruination and possibly even insanity. I can easily picture myself as the unintended product of a Dracula-esque blood-letting who finds himself with a taste for carnality but lacks the courage to kill--and so is condemned for eternity to control those populations of what are viewed as lesser creatures (insects, rodents, other vermin).
All of which reminds me that I've got an unaccountably tremendous appetite. We (behind the gate) rarely get to eat anything that may promote our sense of well-being, so even with that condition applying, I've got a seemingly endless capacity and hunger for food. I tire of the endless ways we are "played" as meat-puppets here.
According to the current policies in effect now, we are to be offered at least an opportunity to get shaved 2X weekly. Beginning a week and a half ago, no such could be had here. At first, it was great! Being unshaven like we all were was almost like telling the officers working here we weren't going to go by their rules. The week passed with no barbers in evidence. Some of us are orderlies and liable to work anywhere in the building had to get shaved/shorn. The rest of us still haven't seen a razor yet; tonight makes two weeks and I'm hoping/praying for one to appear while it's still possible to cut my beard back/tame my wild growth!
This will have to serve until I catch up on my massive backlog of writing.
Despairingly resigned to fate, your Renfield-esque friend,
James
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