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