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