June 21, 2011
Dear Mom,
How are you these days? Hopefully well. Jesus and I continue to eke out an existence here, although admittedly this is much easier for me than for him. Not having contact with the outside world would tend to make me dramatically insane! The craz-ometer is registering new highs now, with the new colonel whipping things into shape around here. I'm afraid to write anything that could be viewed as negative for fear of the response/action I'll get. Two or three guys were a hair slow in complying during a dorm inspection this morning and are now in completely stripped cells...alone. No property, toiletries, or even a mat to lay on. Far be it for me to complain, though.
The crux of the difficulty lies in the fact that, with only a few exceptions, all of the guys in this prison who are on some level of C.M. are only here for a finite time. When they come off C.M. they are transferred. So, it would only be logical to make that kind of a stand after they get to where their permanent camps are. Plus, no one is willing to present a united front for anything the way it is now. Everyone is out for themselves, only and all. I overheard a description...a bit graphic---of the way it is here now: No one would ever try to urinate on anyone else who caught fire and urine was the only thing that would put out the flames. Not word perfect, but the point is clear, hopefully.
I will be going to the shower soon, light wanes and I must write quickly or be left in the dark. The classification officer has likely just now gotten my inscrutable request form and I may have to send another one to get the visitation forms I asked for. It's a mystery how anyone can stay sane after 29 years (and counting) in prison without any visitors, but maybe it's easier if there is no choice.
I was handed a receipt for more money in my account and, while I appreciate very much what you are doing for me, maybe I was unclear in my earlier letters to you. The money won't let me get any more items from the canteen than I am allowed anyway. Instead of both of us only getting ten items, it would be so much better and easier if we were each allowed to buy ten items from the canteen for a week or two. Increasing only my account does little to soothe the already discouraged feelings of my celly. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but it is a bit of a pill to take when I'm the only one getting anything. Otherwise, all is about as well as possible with me. It's eerie the way you pick up on certain things about me, though. If I didn't know a mother's love was behind it, it would really creep me out...badly!
The lights are due to go off soon and I've said about all I needed to say. December 2012 is closer by the day/hour/minute. Well, I need to get this in the mail room.
Much Love,
James
p.s. If you could, Mom, please...as I have no way of doing it or I would...please put something in the account of Jesus DelPino, DC #394204. Thanks very much!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Letter 44
June 16, 2011
Dear Mom,
I'm in a predicament and badly need help with getting it put right. Please call the Col. here on the phone and accept no substitutes...speak directly with the Col. himself. Ask him the following question: Why are the open-population inmates only permitted T.V. until 11 p.m. while C.M. inmates have to have it on until the middle of the day?
I'm on thin ice with this issue. It is a constant source of irritation; we are being subjected to an endless moronathon of rap music in here. If this problem can be resolved, my time here will proceed to an uneventful close. If you can't have a calm and rational discussion with the man, the time left will stretch out forever and I may come to grievous harm before I'm through with it. Harsh, but true...I'm just shooting blind here.
I've had about four hours sleep now, as I got some more sleep medication in me over night. A clearer picture of what nearly happened last night/yesterday is coming out now. Let me rewind so I can present it as it took place. As usual, I was awakened without having completed sleeping, but that was okay as long as we could pass a dorm inspection. I was able to sleep all day. Right. We had back to back inspections until 10:30 a.m. After the last one came through, we were forced to eat the lunch from the kitchen here, as I no longer have anything to doctor it with. Then, I got as comfortable as I could with all the noise here and a guy in a cell on one side started talking trash to a guy in another part of the building.
This happens daily. I believe the generally permissive ways of the guards here have more to do with it than anything. That put me in a mood, as I did not have access to ear plugs and no amount of ignoring it helped in this echo chamber. At that point, all I could do was to "wear it" and wait. In a state of sleep-deprivation, I'm thinking all sorts of crazy things by now. They let half the part of the building I am in come out and watch T.V., gamble, argue loudly, etc.
By no means is this intended to be a complete or accurate representation of what it's like here now, only a rough outline. I well know it isn't intended to be an environment catering to the individual needs of a wide variety of guys, all from different walks of life. It's getting to be more of a high tension environment than anything else, and with all the changes happening it is much easier to put oneself in a position of immediate harsh consequences now, more than ever before.
I'm waiting for the 4:00 p.m. shift now. It is 3:30 p.m. already...similar to the way I was when paying a doctor out of my meager funds for medicine to allow me to get over an illness faster. I know it's needed, but very risky to do. Depending on who the barber is, I may or may not have a haircut/shave done. I think I got the entire wing angry enough to fight me, if they could, over night. I'll definitely have to watch myself to/from the shower when we get access to them on the next shift.
Getting more practiced in maintaining the illusion of normalcy here. Been reading the book by D. Millman, No Ordinary Moments some. I guess I must not be spiritually advanced enough to put the majority of his ideas into action. I get the gist of what he teaches, reminding myself of what I know and other teachings...but for the lessons I require more practice as they are still theoretical to me. Although, I am able to grasp the concepts easily enough. I further speculate the most needed part of the picture is the tincture of time.
The latest crew of hostiles is slowly replacing the faces I'd come to expect seeing most days. The tincture at work.
Just got the latest letter from you and am letting Jesus read the part where you mentioned his friend. Bless him, he really hung in with me during one of my crises. Told me just enough to where I didn't require a showing of force/spraying, but knows not to carp at me.
I'll get on the visitation forms ASAP and with haste. You can only imagine how much I would enjoy seeing my daughter! It is sad that I missed out on so much of her life, but I'm determined not to be an absentee dad anymore.
I remember exactly the situation, if not the exact year, I got a G.E.D. It was while I was whacked, but in Topeka at Menninger's, not Louisiana. Wow, that takes me back to the good ol' days. I just didn't realize it.
Can't imagine what is going through Shawn's mind. Yes, I remember him well.
I've got more to write, but time is not on my side. I need to get this into the outbound mail so it will survive the weekend. More to follow...
Much love,
James
Dear Mom,
I'm in a predicament and badly need help with getting it put right. Please call the Col. here on the phone and accept no substitutes...speak directly with the Col. himself. Ask him the following question: Why are the open-population inmates only permitted T.V. until 11 p.m. while C.M. inmates have to have it on until the middle of the day?
I'm on thin ice with this issue. It is a constant source of irritation; we are being subjected to an endless moronathon of rap music in here. If this problem can be resolved, my time here will proceed to an uneventful close. If you can't have a calm and rational discussion with the man, the time left will stretch out forever and I may come to grievous harm before I'm through with it. Harsh, but true...I'm just shooting blind here.
I've had about four hours sleep now, as I got some more sleep medication in me over night. A clearer picture of what nearly happened last night/yesterday is coming out now. Let me rewind so I can present it as it took place. As usual, I was awakened without having completed sleeping, but that was okay as long as we could pass a dorm inspection. I was able to sleep all day. Right. We had back to back inspections until 10:30 a.m. After the last one came through, we were forced to eat the lunch from the kitchen here, as I no longer have anything to doctor it with. Then, I got as comfortable as I could with all the noise here and a guy in a cell on one side started talking trash to a guy in another part of the building.
This happens daily. I believe the generally permissive ways of the guards here have more to do with it than anything. That put me in a mood, as I did not have access to ear plugs and no amount of ignoring it helped in this echo chamber. At that point, all I could do was to "wear it" and wait. In a state of sleep-deprivation, I'm thinking all sorts of crazy things by now. They let half the part of the building I am in come out and watch T.V., gamble, argue loudly, etc.
By no means is this intended to be a complete or accurate representation of what it's like here now, only a rough outline. I well know it isn't intended to be an environment catering to the individual needs of a wide variety of guys, all from different walks of life. It's getting to be more of a high tension environment than anything else, and with all the changes happening it is much easier to put oneself in a position of immediate harsh consequences now, more than ever before.
I'm waiting for the 4:00 p.m. shift now. It is 3:30 p.m. already...similar to the way I was when paying a doctor out of my meager funds for medicine to allow me to get over an illness faster. I know it's needed, but very risky to do. Depending on who the barber is, I may or may not have a haircut/shave done. I think I got the entire wing angry enough to fight me, if they could, over night. I'll definitely have to watch myself to/from the shower when we get access to them on the next shift.
Getting more practiced in maintaining the illusion of normalcy here. Been reading the book by D. Millman, No Ordinary Moments some. I guess I must not be spiritually advanced enough to put the majority of his ideas into action. I get the gist of what he teaches, reminding myself of what I know and other teachings...but for the lessons I require more practice as they are still theoretical to me. Although, I am able to grasp the concepts easily enough. I further speculate the most needed part of the picture is the tincture of time.
The latest crew of hostiles is slowly replacing the faces I'd come to expect seeing most days. The tincture at work.
Just got the latest letter from you and am letting Jesus read the part where you mentioned his friend. Bless him, he really hung in with me during one of my crises. Told me just enough to where I didn't require a showing of force/spraying, but knows not to carp at me.
I'll get on the visitation forms ASAP and with haste. You can only imagine how much I would enjoy seeing my daughter! It is sad that I missed out on so much of her life, but I'm determined not to be an absentee dad anymore.
I remember exactly the situation, if not the exact year, I got a G.E.D. It was while I was whacked, but in Topeka at Menninger's, not Louisiana. Wow, that takes me back to the good ol' days. I just didn't realize it.
Can't imagine what is going through Shawn's mind. Yes, I remember him well.
I've got more to write, but time is not on my side. I need to get this into the outbound mail so it will survive the weekend. More to follow...
Much love,
James
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Letter 43
June 13, 2011
Dear Mom,
Hope you are okay. It's easy to get into trouble around here without ever knowing it. I guess I'm okay, although my situation could easily be mistaken for being nickel and dimed to death from any other point of view. We had many electrical storms roll through this area, but what we need is rain. So far, no follow-through on the threats of rain.
Something relatively interesting happened to me this morning. Of course, that's easy to happen around here. Out of the blue I was taken back to the dentist. After I spent 15 minutes getting my chains and cuffs off for the short walk over there, I got to check out some rumours received from inmates.com. The one I hoped he would verify the most came from Jesus and another guy in blue. The guy wasn't able to confirm it though, so it's just empty talk.
As I was worrying about a brown-out while the dentist had a drill in my mouth, I overheard the talk going back and forth over me about the evident turnover in jobs with that particular dentist. Time for good news/bad news. Good news is the dentist says he doesn't see any problems in my mouth that he can't fix. He is a good dentist and fully able to do as he says so I have confidence in him. The bad news is they started taking $5 out of the inmates' accounts for every visit and it seems like I've got 10-12 visits in my future. Plus the miscellaneous charges for medical services. That is why I said earlier that, from another point of view, it could easily be mistaken for willfully siphoning off the funds available to me.
With that out of the way, I grow increasingly concerned for the mental state of Jesus. I know it has to be killing him about his family in Cuba not writing to him, not to mention the fact that he hasn't heard anything from M. in three weeks now. I'm beginning to be swayed by the weight of the evidence now, myself. I do what I can to talk him back down, but at the same time I'm agreeing with him if that makes any sense. I finally got a decent celly and now this is threatening to take him away. Hope that doesn't read as me being selfish and childish, but not many compare to the integrity and character I see in my celly; I just hope he doesn't fold up.
They're coming back for shift change now, and very shortly I'll be faced with the proposition of keeping my celly occupied until a definite word comes to him in the mail. While some difficulties solve themselves, most camp out with me persistently. You will save yourself some aggravation by not second-guessing any wisdom into my words.
Lately I've had no arguments with my Muse; I just haven't been writing for lack of opportunity. Guess I should cut back on lending myself to the increasing chaos here. As regards lending: The dreck the kitchen puts on all the trays for us to eat is getting worse and less. Soon, they will be charging rent for the air we breathe...I foresee this. Anyhow, we supplement what is on the trays with the ten items allowed per week from the canteen.
Ten items lasts about four days for two people. The rest of the week we go without. In this case, the "we" are Jesus and I. I could make it go almost all week long but I don't have the heart to eat my fill while he goes hungry at times as he sells his trays for miscellaneous items. What I'm getting at is, although the canteen is pretty closely watched, if you could spare enough for my celly to get some food once in awhile I'd really appreciate it a lot. It would do wonders for his outlook and mood as well. I breach this subject hesitantly, as I can understand that you don't want to be duped by proxy (or any other way), but it would do so much to ease the shadow of tension growing more real for him. I don't make this request lightly.
I need to get this out the door if I'm going to get it mailed now. Write me and let me know what you decide, please.
Much love,
James
Dear Mom,
Hope you are okay. It's easy to get into trouble around here without ever knowing it. I guess I'm okay, although my situation could easily be mistaken for being nickel and dimed to death from any other point of view. We had many electrical storms roll through this area, but what we need is rain. So far, no follow-through on the threats of rain.
Something relatively interesting happened to me this morning. Of course, that's easy to happen around here. Out of the blue I was taken back to the dentist. After I spent 15 minutes getting my chains and cuffs off for the short walk over there, I got to check out some rumours received from inmates.com. The one I hoped he would verify the most came from Jesus and another guy in blue. The guy wasn't able to confirm it though, so it's just empty talk.
As I was worrying about a brown-out while the dentist had a drill in my mouth, I overheard the talk going back and forth over me about the evident turnover in jobs with that particular dentist. Time for good news/bad news. Good news is the dentist says he doesn't see any problems in my mouth that he can't fix. He is a good dentist and fully able to do as he says so I have confidence in him. The bad news is they started taking $5 out of the inmates' accounts for every visit and it seems like I've got 10-12 visits in my future. Plus the miscellaneous charges for medical services. That is why I said earlier that, from another point of view, it could easily be mistaken for willfully siphoning off the funds available to me.
With that out of the way, I grow increasingly concerned for the mental state of Jesus. I know it has to be killing him about his family in Cuba not writing to him, not to mention the fact that he hasn't heard anything from M. in three weeks now. I'm beginning to be swayed by the weight of the evidence now, myself. I do what I can to talk him back down, but at the same time I'm agreeing with him if that makes any sense. I finally got a decent celly and now this is threatening to take him away. Hope that doesn't read as me being selfish and childish, but not many compare to the integrity and character I see in my celly; I just hope he doesn't fold up.
They're coming back for shift change now, and very shortly I'll be faced with the proposition of keeping my celly occupied until a definite word comes to him in the mail. While some difficulties solve themselves, most camp out with me persistently. You will save yourself some aggravation by not second-guessing any wisdom into my words.
Lately I've had no arguments with my Muse; I just haven't been writing for lack of opportunity. Guess I should cut back on lending myself to the increasing chaos here. As regards lending: The dreck the kitchen puts on all the trays for us to eat is getting worse and less. Soon, they will be charging rent for the air we breathe...I foresee this. Anyhow, we supplement what is on the trays with the ten items allowed per week from the canteen.
Ten items lasts about four days for two people. The rest of the week we go without. In this case, the "we" are Jesus and I. I could make it go almost all week long but I don't have the heart to eat my fill while he goes hungry at times as he sells his trays for miscellaneous items. What I'm getting at is, although the canteen is pretty closely watched, if you could spare enough for my celly to get some food once in awhile I'd really appreciate it a lot. It would do wonders for his outlook and mood as well. I breach this subject hesitantly, as I can understand that you don't want to be duped by proxy (or any other way), but it would do so much to ease the shadow of tension growing more real for him. I don't make this request lightly.
I need to get this out the door if I'm going to get it mailed now. Write me and let me know what you decide, please.
Much love,
James
Friday, June 17, 2011
Letter 42
June 10, 2011
Dear Mom,
I didn't get started writing you until today for many petty although time-consuming reasons engulfed me after our visit. Hope you had a good drive going back south. I hear from the brief news that we get that people are in a bad way because of the fires out in Arizona. I'll have to write Chee Chee to see how they are fairing.
I still have not received any word from anyone, but I tend to believe no news is good news. Wish I could say the same for Jesus. I can see his concerns eating away at him...he looks all of his 51 years now. Once in awhile I try to get him to open up but he just shrugs and gets quiet. It's hard to imagine the strain he is under.
I've been thinking more about my plans for after I'm released the end of next year and have come up with only one iron-clad plan. I want to be released before Christmas, for three reasons: First, if I don't get released before then I will likely spend another year incarcerated because Tallahassee shuts all of their offices down over the holidays. Second, I'd like to be able to go and do what I want to do and not be locked up away from family and celebrations. Third, I believe I've changed to the point that, although this is an on-going process for me, I've paid my debt and had enough of eating bad food hurriedly.
I suppose I need to be grateful that we get anything at all to eat. Gratitude has occasionally been an issue, or maybe it should be my ingratitude, particularly for what I eat. Not sure what, if anything, it means...but I can't ponder the question now as other things are clamouring for my attention.
Some people thrive only in a stressful environment like prison while others experience smoldering rage at the oppressive authority. This rage results in various acts of destruction directed at their keepers and only makes the way they live more unyielding. There I go again...gotta stop that, but no idea how to do it.
The book I mentioned in our visit is by Gerda Weissmann Klein, entitled All But My Life, and was the basis for an HBO special called One Survivor Remembers.
It is Saturday now and I'm waiting for all the chaos to settle. Jesus opened up to me in a big way last night, expressing grave concern about not getting any word from M. yet. I kept telling him that he can't make the guy write a letter, and that he is likely very busy. I hope I made him feel a little better about it anyway. Back and forth about it, when I know what he really wants is to hear from his family in Cuba. I'm getting worried that he might decide to do something based on his feelings not intellect.
Imagine that! Me, the voice of reason. Ha! I had a momentary identity crisis, but I'm over it now. I've got to work out now, so I'll close.
Love,
James
P.S. Can you help me get the eye glasses I need? Speak to an assistant warden, at least, and explain my situation regarding the optometrist. Tell him how having only one eye with vision puts a heavy strain on my sight. That should get something started for me in a positive way.
Dear Mom,
I didn't get started writing you until today for many petty although time-consuming reasons engulfed me after our visit. Hope you had a good drive going back south. I hear from the brief news that we get that people are in a bad way because of the fires out in Arizona. I'll have to write Chee Chee to see how they are fairing.
I still have not received any word from anyone, but I tend to believe no news is good news. Wish I could say the same for Jesus. I can see his concerns eating away at him...he looks all of his 51 years now. Once in awhile I try to get him to open up but he just shrugs and gets quiet. It's hard to imagine the strain he is under.
I've been thinking more about my plans for after I'm released the end of next year and have come up with only one iron-clad plan. I want to be released before Christmas, for three reasons: First, if I don't get released before then I will likely spend another year incarcerated because Tallahassee shuts all of their offices down over the holidays. Second, I'd like to be able to go and do what I want to do and not be locked up away from family and celebrations. Third, I believe I've changed to the point that, although this is an on-going process for me, I've paid my debt and had enough of eating bad food hurriedly.
I suppose I need to be grateful that we get anything at all to eat. Gratitude has occasionally been an issue, or maybe it should be my ingratitude, particularly for what I eat. Not sure what, if anything, it means...but I can't ponder the question now as other things are clamouring for my attention.
Some people thrive only in a stressful environment like prison while others experience smoldering rage at the oppressive authority. This rage results in various acts of destruction directed at their keepers and only makes the way they live more unyielding. There I go again...gotta stop that, but no idea how to do it.
The book I mentioned in our visit is by Gerda Weissmann Klein, entitled All But My Life, and was the basis for an HBO special called One Survivor Remembers.
It is Saturday now and I'm waiting for all the chaos to settle. Jesus opened up to me in a big way last night, expressing grave concern about not getting any word from M. yet. I kept telling him that he can't make the guy write a letter, and that he is likely very busy. I hope I made him feel a little better about it anyway. Back and forth about it, when I know what he really wants is to hear from his family in Cuba. I'm getting worried that he might decide to do something based on his feelings not intellect.
Imagine that! Me, the voice of reason. Ha! I had a momentary identity crisis, but I'm over it now. I've got to work out now, so I'll close.
Love,
James
P.S. Can you help me get the eye glasses I need? Speak to an assistant warden, at least, and explain my situation regarding the optometrist. Tell him how having only one eye with vision puts a heavy strain on my sight. That should get something started for me in a positive way.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Letter 41
June 2, 2011
Dear Mom,
It is such an entirely confusing, crazed situation here with the officers trying to make up for the holiday...I just decided being glued to the door isn't going to make time pass more quickly; so I'm writing. Hopefully, as we aren't afflicted by a supercop for an officer today and the guy with the keys will listen to and heed his conscience, which is telling him that the smurfs behaved for the most part during the time he was away and don't deserve the indifferent treatment we get. As you can tell, my pen is experiencing technical difficulty...please stand by. Ah, the sergeant with spare pens is out for the day, which translates to "try again on the next shift." Oh, well.
I wanted to further expound on a notion in my head, like a mental splinter. As in the more I weigh it, testing it for drawbacks, the deeper it seems to get. Almost like it has an instinct for preservation; it's so elusive. If you get this letter in time, please do us a favor and sit away from any distractions that may crowd your attention, and read this with an open mind.
As closely as I'm able to, I want to try to convey the turbulence of the surrounding environment affecting me. This is not very logical, but that's the way it goes in the big city. First off, I guess, is my continual search for peace. Right now is likely the best I've experienced in the last 2-3 years, but still not the total peace I refer to. I know absolute peace is an ideal only, as I am who I am and I don't tolerate up roaring situations very well. I need to have freedom to evolve naturally in an unnatural situation.
I feel like a caterpillar, in the sense that I'll come to an end and I don't know what the next stage for me will be. I got a laugh just now: a song, "Rock Star" by a band called Nickelback exactly tells the things I used to think were important in life. Since I've ended up locked away, I've rethought those values to conclude that he who dies with the most still dies. That's a cheery thought, like I need to remind myself of that in here! Things and events keep occurring to me that I need to be mindful of...as Father's Day is on the radar scope soon.
At any rate, I'll likely be moving on to another facility by August, which is soon enough to start paying attention to my future. In the letter I wrote over Memorial Day I went into as much detail as is safe under the circumstances, so that base is touched.
It's just that things with me are so aggravatingly uncertain, extremely dull, or numbingly routine...that I'm not sure how to approach anything. It's not quite analysis-paralysis, but the difference escapes me. I'm free to think, and to a limited extent act, as well. I'm getting a wide variety in my results, though. I sent a formal grievance to the Sec., F.D.O.C. and it came back denied (big shock), because I'd failed to attach every single other complaint I've written since I've been here. What really happened is that I've got ways to prove wrong-doing and they are not going to hear me. That blows! I see now what I'm up against, though.
As I'm losing light quickly, both to see by and hemorrhaging spiritually, I'm going to wrap this up now. It's hopeless.
Much love,
James
Dear Mom,
It is such an entirely confusing, crazed situation here with the officers trying to make up for the holiday...I just decided being glued to the door isn't going to make time pass more quickly; so I'm writing. Hopefully, as we aren't afflicted by a supercop for an officer today and the guy with the keys will listen to and heed his conscience, which is telling him that the smurfs behaved for the most part during the time he was away and don't deserve the indifferent treatment we get. As you can tell, my pen is experiencing technical difficulty...please stand by. Ah, the sergeant with spare pens is out for the day, which translates to "try again on the next shift." Oh, well.
I wanted to further expound on a notion in my head, like a mental splinter. As in the more I weigh it, testing it for drawbacks, the deeper it seems to get. Almost like it has an instinct for preservation; it's so elusive. If you get this letter in time, please do us a favor and sit away from any distractions that may crowd your attention, and read this with an open mind.
As closely as I'm able to, I want to try to convey the turbulence of the surrounding environment affecting me. This is not very logical, but that's the way it goes in the big city. First off, I guess, is my continual search for peace. Right now is likely the best I've experienced in the last 2-3 years, but still not the total peace I refer to. I know absolute peace is an ideal only, as I am who I am and I don't tolerate up roaring situations very well. I need to have freedom to evolve naturally in an unnatural situation.
I feel like a caterpillar, in the sense that I'll come to an end and I don't know what the next stage for me will be. I got a laugh just now: a song, "Rock Star" by a band called Nickelback exactly tells the things I used to think were important in life. Since I've ended up locked away, I've rethought those values to conclude that he who dies with the most still dies. That's a cheery thought, like I need to remind myself of that in here! Things and events keep occurring to me that I need to be mindful of...as Father's Day is on the radar scope soon.
At any rate, I'll likely be moving on to another facility by August, which is soon enough to start paying attention to my future. In the letter I wrote over Memorial Day I went into as much detail as is safe under the circumstances, so that base is touched.
It's just that things with me are so aggravatingly uncertain, extremely dull, or numbingly routine...that I'm not sure how to approach anything. It's not quite analysis-paralysis, but the difference escapes me. I'm free to think, and to a limited extent act, as well. I'm getting a wide variety in my results, though. I sent a formal grievance to the Sec., F.D.O.C. and it came back denied (big shock), because I'd failed to attach every single other complaint I've written since I've been here. What really happened is that I've got ways to prove wrong-doing and they are not going to hear me. That blows! I see now what I'm up against, though.
As I'm losing light quickly, both to see by and hemorrhaging spiritually, I'm going to wrap this up now. It's hopeless.
Much love,
James
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Letter 40
June 3, 2011
Dear Mom,
Well, the results are in and as expected I aced the entire five pre-tests; except for one part, that is. The person administering the tests said I told him I wasn't comfortable taking one part, but that is a lie. What I've pieced together is that the administrator gave out multiple test forms, scratch paper and the like without proper explanation as to what went with which form. Asking questions only confused the situation more and I ended up doing the allegedly missing part of the test on the wrong form. I deny the allegations of intentional wrong-doing and vehemently resent the implied assault on my character as well.
If I want to go ahead with the process of getting the actual G.E.D. testing out of my way, I need to wait for another cycle to come through and then take all five tests again. I feel angry at the administrator because I feel that he lied. I know giving tests the way they do is not easy but to lie outright is crossing over the line. Therefore, and there are more practical reasons also, I quit. I don't feel the need to put such tremendous stress on myself in addition to the stress I feel anticipating the major sh*t storm nearing my "house" in November.
Not that I'm letting this go unnoticed, I'm reserving my response for a more opportune time. I've pretty well accepted the fact that I can only make an intolerable situation much worse, and my time here is nearly up. Also, conditions here aren't so bad so I think I'll wait before I start making a nuisance of myself again.
Lunch is due and I can only imagine the horror it will bring. The science experiment gone awry is nearly upon us, so I need to keep this out of reach for the next half hour or so. It is now after lunch and I managed to keep this paper from being eaten, though it may have been the most tasteful thing around. The smurfs in similar positions are regularly denied such basic things as salt. It's been a week since I've seen any. Honestly, the ones responsible are comparable to common mouth-breathing bottom-feeders.
My day didn't exactly start in an ideal way, with the teacher telling me about the state certified liar and all. I feel like no matter what I think, say, or do nothing gets any easier or any better. Lunch typified what I refer to: It took so long to get it all moving, because we had to wait until we were counted, that we rushed through a guaranteed case of indigestion just as others got to watch the worse show on T.V....Jerry Springer. Forgive my expressing myself so negatively but I wonder if anything is going to go right for me today.
On top of everything else, I'm dealing with a malfunctioning pen...soon to be trashed. I feel crowded, and if it keeps up this way I'm not sure I can keep my cool. I won't be able to spare anyone, such will be my state. No amount of advocating any of my various causes seems to help me either. All of which leaves me to conclude that while prison/incarceration may do a bit of good, it is far outweighed by the freedoms given up in trade.
I don't find this stuff amusing anymore...I need a break. This kid is not alright by a long stretch of hard road. It is interesting, as always, the difference a day and a letter from Renelle make in my attitude. She told me you are rescheduling the visit for the 2nd week in June. I'm really looking forward to it. Well, I'm out of (alleged) wise sayings. Guess I ought to stop writing and close now. Regards to all,
Much Love,
James
Check the D.O.C. website for my account balance please; I'm zeroed out again. Thank you.
Dear Mom,
Well, the results are in and as expected I aced the entire five pre-tests; except for one part, that is. The person administering the tests said I told him I wasn't comfortable taking one part, but that is a lie. What I've pieced together is that the administrator gave out multiple test forms, scratch paper and the like without proper explanation as to what went with which form. Asking questions only confused the situation more and I ended up doing the allegedly missing part of the test on the wrong form. I deny the allegations of intentional wrong-doing and vehemently resent the implied assault on my character as well.
If I want to go ahead with the process of getting the actual G.E.D. testing out of my way, I need to wait for another cycle to come through and then take all five tests again. I feel angry at the administrator because I feel that he lied. I know giving tests the way they do is not easy but to lie outright is crossing over the line. Therefore, and there are more practical reasons also, I quit. I don't feel the need to put such tremendous stress on myself in addition to the stress I feel anticipating the major sh*t storm nearing my "house" in November.
Not that I'm letting this go unnoticed, I'm reserving my response for a more opportune time. I've pretty well accepted the fact that I can only make an intolerable situation much worse, and my time here is nearly up. Also, conditions here aren't so bad so I think I'll wait before I start making a nuisance of myself again.
Lunch is due and I can only imagine the horror it will bring. The science experiment gone awry is nearly upon us, so I need to keep this out of reach for the next half hour or so. It is now after lunch and I managed to keep this paper from being eaten, though it may have been the most tasteful thing around. The smurfs in similar positions are regularly denied such basic things as salt. It's been a week since I've seen any. Honestly, the ones responsible are comparable to common mouth-breathing bottom-feeders.
My day didn't exactly start in an ideal way, with the teacher telling me about the state certified liar and all. I feel like no matter what I think, say, or do nothing gets any easier or any better. Lunch typified what I refer to: It took so long to get it all moving, because we had to wait until we were counted, that we rushed through a guaranteed case of indigestion just as others got to watch the worse show on T.V....Jerry Springer. Forgive my expressing myself so negatively but I wonder if anything is going to go right for me today.
On top of everything else, I'm dealing with a malfunctioning pen...soon to be trashed. I feel crowded, and if it keeps up this way I'm not sure I can keep my cool. I won't be able to spare anyone, such will be my state. No amount of advocating any of my various causes seems to help me either. All of which leaves me to conclude that while prison/incarceration may do a bit of good, it is far outweighed by the freedoms given up in trade.
I don't find this stuff amusing anymore...I need a break. This kid is not alright by a long stretch of hard road. It is interesting, as always, the difference a day and a letter from Renelle make in my attitude. She told me you are rescheduling the visit for the 2nd week in June. I'm really looking forward to it. Well, I'm out of (alleged) wise sayings. Guess I ought to stop writing and close now. Regards to all,
Much Love,
James
Check the D.O.C. website for my account balance please; I'm zeroed out again. Thank you.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Letter 39
May 5, 2011
Dear Mom,
First, I need to thank you for the timely continual financial support you send me. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" is what I really need to tell you...regarding several of my latest letters to you. A bit surprised you haven't completely cut me off from any further funds coming in, due to my apparent attitude and selfishness.
Truthfully, there does exist a core reason for my wording. As the shoes I was issued by the prison have become worn out and torn up and I won't be able to get another pair for approximately six months, I need something to put on my feet during the times I'm out of the cell. I hesitate to put this in writing as it may cost an individual the position he has worked so long to get...but his C.M. time is in the final month and he's got some sneakers to sell before he leaves. They are in my size range (8 1/2) and not bad looking, and he is trying to get $25 for them. Now that I want to go outside I can't for lack of shoes. It's embarrassing.
I've just happened onto what, for me at least, is the most prominent basic flaw in the rehabilitation system used in prisons. They are quick to punish wrongdoing, but they fail to explain what the right way is. Simple. I can't believe it took me until recently to spot it.
My reading, writing and study habits in general have improved dramatically. I no longer allow myself to waste time even though I have enough time to waste. I've hit a wall in terms of mathematics, which I was never a prodigy at to start with. I plan to carefully go over the parts I've gotten wrong, reading all of the directions this time, and not rush through it. This way I hope to grasp the mechanics of the problem so I know how it is supposed to be worked. I'm finding out I can't rely on words alone to get me through the world.
As the quality of the meals we get served here continues to fall sharply, I cannot support my metabolism on what we get for free any longer. With increasing budgetary constraints, we all have to make concessions. But, think of me as you will, I've grown attached to eating. I speak an alien language in here that nobody understands except me, when I speak of desperate hunger. I seldom have enough to eat, complicated by the fact that, as a Close Management person, I'm permitted only ten food items per week. That is the part distressing me the most now about being cooped up like I am. What usually happens is, the day the food I buy is brought to me, I eat about half of it.
The sudden rise in my blood sugar can't be a good thing; I wasn't designed for feast and famine like this! Enough about my petty problems; I've got it better than most in here. When I get to complaining, it's like a snowball rolling down hill...picks up all kinds of odd stuff.
I've got one stamp and one envelope to mail this letter and nothing else until the ides, which is all I really need. I'll just cut back on my letters to you for the moment. Seems sort of odd...me, a writer, with no envelopes. At any rate, I'll include a page or two I've been cobbing together lately. Also, don't think I don't want to get a letter from you. I just don't want any unscrupulous inmates to get your address. Hope you are enjoying yourself. You deserve it.
Much love,
James
Dear Mom,
First, I need to thank you for the timely continual financial support you send me. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" is what I really need to tell you...regarding several of my latest letters to you. A bit surprised you haven't completely cut me off from any further funds coming in, due to my apparent attitude and selfishness.
Truthfully, there does exist a core reason for my wording. As the shoes I was issued by the prison have become worn out and torn up and I won't be able to get another pair for approximately six months, I need something to put on my feet during the times I'm out of the cell. I hesitate to put this in writing as it may cost an individual the position he has worked so long to get...but his C.M. time is in the final month and he's got some sneakers to sell before he leaves. They are in my size range (8 1/2) and not bad looking, and he is trying to get $25 for them. Now that I want to go outside I can't for lack of shoes. It's embarrassing.
I've just happened onto what, for me at least, is the most prominent basic flaw in the rehabilitation system used in prisons. They are quick to punish wrongdoing, but they fail to explain what the right way is. Simple. I can't believe it took me until recently to spot it.
My reading, writing and study habits in general have improved dramatically. I no longer allow myself to waste time even though I have enough time to waste. I've hit a wall in terms of mathematics, which I was never a prodigy at to start with. I plan to carefully go over the parts I've gotten wrong, reading all of the directions this time, and not rush through it. This way I hope to grasp the mechanics of the problem so I know how it is supposed to be worked. I'm finding out I can't rely on words alone to get me through the world.
As the quality of the meals we get served here continues to fall sharply, I cannot support my metabolism on what we get for free any longer. With increasing budgetary constraints, we all have to make concessions. But, think of me as you will, I've grown attached to eating. I speak an alien language in here that nobody understands except me, when I speak of desperate hunger. I seldom have enough to eat, complicated by the fact that, as a Close Management person, I'm permitted only ten food items per week. That is the part distressing me the most now about being cooped up like I am. What usually happens is, the day the food I buy is brought to me, I eat about half of it.
The sudden rise in my blood sugar can't be a good thing; I wasn't designed for feast and famine like this! Enough about my petty problems; I've got it better than most in here. When I get to complaining, it's like a snowball rolling down hill...picks up all kinds of odd stuff.
I've got one stamp and one envelope to mail this letter and nothing else until the ides, which is all I really need. I'll just cut back on my letters to you for the moment. Seems sort of odd...me, a writer, with no envelopes. At any rate, I'll include a page or two I've been cobbing together lately. Also, don't think I don't want to get a letter from you. I just don't want any unscrupulous inmates to get your address. Hope you are enjoying yourself. You deserve it.
Much love,
James
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