Letter 60

June 28-29, 2011

Dear Renelle,

All I have to say in the wake of your 6/22 letter is WOW! So that has kept you busy, or at least busier, lately. I'm glad you didn't come to a horrible demise out adventuring somehow. Several issues I want to broach as topics. I'll have to write quickly. The shower time nears! 

Say "hi" to sis for me, please. If my comments cause embarrassment or outright pain, feel free to treat this as you would any junk mail. Your sister seems to loom ominously large within the frame of your life. I know you're saying the "she's my sister, of course!", but I didn't mean to imply an offense. Better let that tiger run off into the hills, lest it attack.

O.K. (pausing in my assault) Today my celly went outside to recreation and returned with the latest from inmate.com. The day of release from prison, all were receiving a check for $100. No longer. He came back in to tell me what an authoritative source was heard to say--that money had dropped to $50, soon to be $0.

Gotta tell my response to it, then assess the validity of it. I don't care if they keep all the money I supposedly have due to me! All they need to do is point me at the door and turn away. It will be a wrap. Now, about the truthfulness of that rumour. It came from inmate.com, need I elaborate?

From the letter, you indicate you were bitten (?) by your Gray--was that recent? It's a bit hard to figure between the repeating of it and my limited and skewed understanding. That must've been horrible! I used to get dived on by different birds because they are territorial and I was invading from their point of view, I guess. When I'd passed about a residential lot away, they stopped, being as I no longer was a "threat." 

Anyway (before I go chasing rabbits) I'd better take my tranquilizer. In for the ride now. Mr. Toad's go nothing on this! Now I need to stay with my points before it kicks me to sleep.

You mentioned also that you feel I clearly articulated a bipolar state. I just call it my usual state of being conflicted about most things I see, feel, touch, and taste. It's an enormous effort just to wake up at times. The meds I take put me under so deeply that by the time I can shake off their affects, it's time to take more! I guess I ought to be aware that one of these times I won't have the luck to come back around, but that's part of the thrill involved. 

I have a similar trade-off to the one you described. Greater mental acuity when not taking them. I take them primarily now because the doctor has the ability to make life extremely intense and difficult for me if I don't. I also could walk through this time asleep, so--what's to stop me?

Much reading is in my future now! I received the first shipment of books my mom had Amazon send me--a feast/famine endeavor certainly! It's not surprising to me the Board of Education in LA didn't have a record of any kind of schooling taking place--I'd never gone to school there! Unless you count the psychotic kiddie-care classes I took when I was at DePaul Hospital for the mentally unwell. I could fill an entire library writing about that place. Good times--bad times.

I feel myself getting slower now, so it won't be long before the tranquilizer I took kicks my brain flat. I don't think I"ll pursue any further eduction at this point here, but I've got time to spare. Well, the light are going out, so good night.

Your vocally-challenged friend,

James

P.S. J. says hi.

This is a continuation of notationally-meanderations and such scrawls for your consideration (I didn't finish in time for this to be mailed). The radio reception is very poor now (due to what I have no idea), but on rising for a more permanent time today at the crack of noon and catching the last part of a news item, I heard that "houses were being consumed by fires raging out of control." Because that is all I heard of it, I don't know where it is they are talking about. Compounding that, I haven't heard from my aunt (who lives in Arizona!) for at least 2-3 weeks now. I worry about her house being burnt down. That's the way my day started.

I know I shouldn't. She is after all, a wise enough woman to realize a fire big enough to involve three states now is immune to reason. Also, surely there's insurance to factor in as well. Money just won't replace life, or memories for that matter. Her husband and she likely are far away from the danger of the fire, in any case. So I'm not so much concerned with her dying by fire as I am the loss of the house and all that's in it.

The following represents none of my personal views and reflects no thought I've had in any way. One would be hard-pressed to think of a more thorough disclaimer than the above, I believe. I'm addicted. Yes, verily verily I say unto thee. I suppose there are more harmful (things/ways?) to be pinioned by (boiling it down); yet--during my final moments, I submit to beforehand that any addiction amounts to being equally as harmful as any other.

Even though there is trouble at the moment between J. and me, I feel it's the sort of storm that has swept away all of the weak structures we base the relationship on, leaving behind the sturdier columns to renew it on. This type of storm has a tremendous value, in that it clears the way for a much more secure and mutually beneficial partnership. 

If I'm wrong, it's not a life or death matter, and if I'm right, it proves my ability to make a sound choice based on very little information. So.

Back to the supposition that all addictions are equally--inherently--harmful. I retract that, to be able to "say" most addicitions are equally--inherently--harmful that I'm aware of. Of course, some lead ever downward toward that great point of equalization, mysterious because few know what lies beyond it (death)--but I do. I dare tell of wickedness, betrayal, and disloyalty eventually culminating in what I can only describe as an act of self-destructiveness all but guaranteed to end life as I knew it.

It's very possible I'm wrong in most of my assertions; but I ask you to consider the corollary evidence before deciding if I'm wrong, just wrong for you, or not fit for public. I have (still) flashes of ideas so brilliant and inspired as to defy even a healthy imagination; but before I'm able to record them, they evaporate entirely, leaving no residue. Furthermore, I cannot describe what it's like to "behave," as I've never been the least model of acceptable behavior myself.

We've got a Col. who is a strict, stern disciplinarian, from available accounts, making up rules/policies hourly, so when touring the different buildings, is unhesitant in use of force to those arbitrarily chosen to have violated a code. This, in turn, causes widespread panic and confusion at/on an institutional level.

Now awaiting a delivery of what they call lunch. It's an even more uncertain situation with J. and myself. What took place pre-dawn isn't being pushed forth by either of us. I don't feel there is a medium solution allowing both happiness; my opinion only.

So now that I've illustrated at least one of the many obstacles we face (individually and collectively) in leaving on time and unharmed in most ways--I feel freer to go over some of the other things that pass for my thoughts. Regarding artificial friends (partners, relationships, etc.), I feel I know of this, having been the pawn in many a game, sacrificed with no evident type of ritual, even. Over the past roughly two years, it's been by reason of sensitive information being broadcast without regard to consequence, also without my consent, resulting in being branded as a perpetually easy victim for the entirety of my stay there. 

In forcing my entire load of "baggage" into a disciplined, responsible, obedient mold, most of what makes up my personality was sacrificed. This system of enforced compliance may work well enough in the short term, but what of the day of release? It's very possible, even likely, that these obedient D.O.C. slaves that are manufactured by threats will revert to their baseline ways in the time of release, in the weeks preceding release, possibly.

Excuse me, please. I'm getting updated on how much further the last camp I was in has fallen from being the sweetest/easiest/most desirable camp to be sent, by my new neighbor. I honestly don't mean to ignore or slight the venerated process of penning a letter--sometimes it just happens that I'm unable to divide my attention between the two. 

For those like myself who have the "three strikes of death" on them (1. smaller than average, 2. unable to tolerate being struck in the head, 3. relatively short time to go in prison), some of the wisest advice I've received came from my celly at a room with a view of hell. I was told that, all being considered, it would be in the interest of my survival if I requested protective custody, pointing out the main ones after me, and got myself transferred to a different prison.

Doing so turned out to be nothing but the single most trying feat I've run into for the last 25 years! Replete with abuse of power (up to being TASED even) and sprayed with any of the three types in use at that time. Now, with the knowledge that the world didn't stop just because I'm no longer able to participate in it on my mind, I'm trying to leave this tour in my past. Besides, they likely wouldn't hesitate to write me up and spray me down now, given a reason.

There's some stuff in use now that takes the oxygen out of a cell, and I think I'll take the word of the ones who've experienced it, that it's evil, wicked, nasty, and bad--thank you.