August 23, 2011
Dear Mom,
Hello again..from here in a dismal and disappointing dungeon. I'm finding it no longer even remotely amusing to be here. A Sgt. explained to us smurfs recently that from now on there will be two inspections per shift, per day, Saturday/Sunday included! We are to have no more than a day or two of stubble for our beards, and haircuts are mandatory/enforced! Pretty soon, I can imagine them editing our thoughts too. Don't pay attention to me though, I can't even vote in a public election. My opinions don't count.
I vent. Self-editing is important as an ability, but I just don't have the ability to rein myself in as others do. I really meant no harm in my letters to Renelle, but I guess they weren't read that way. I've got about a half hour worth of speaking to do the next time we visit, and I explained in a letter to her that if I can't air it somehow...it not only isn't any good, but may cause me irreparable harm from holding it in. In that way,I suppose that is similar to resolving to not urinate. What happens when one goes to sleep?
So, what's going on in your world? Nothing too stressful, hopefully. Seems like this keeps getting worse and more strict by the day. I'm so glad, happy and joyful I'm scheduled to see the I.C.T./State Group tomorrow...like you couldn't believe! I can hardly believe it myself. Regarding my beliefs, I may need to continue this tomorrow, being as I'm unable to see without light. I've got a lot to say but the timing is off. Go figure, huh.
I suppose you could say I've got a type of integrity about myself, though I wouldn't say that about myself. In my mind, I fall short of the definition in at least one area: Doing right because it is right. My mental deconstruction is getting close to the bone: I'd managed to get some extra bread yesterday, so I put it into my locker with the thought I'd get to it as soon as I could. This morning, I looked in my locker and found it. In spite of what I hear good naturedly from Jesus, it comes out as having too many irons in too many fires. I'm trying out a new way of looking like I've got it together. I got a shave Tuesday that I didn't notice was uneven until I was in front of a mirror. The mirror I was looking in happens to be in our cell.
Oh well, just so long as I get where I'm wanting to go it makes little difference in the grand scheme of things.
Regarding the larger picture, meaning how I'd like to finish my time out, my first choice would be at Tomoka for the reason they have a faith-based program there that I'd like to investigate. Dad seems to downplay it for a possibility though, as he says the place is geared for those with ultra-lengthy sentences. So, with all that in mind, the prison that could make the most realistic sense to get into might be the one in Zephyrhills. My reasoning for that is they only have 40 and older inmates there.
Any way you consider it, I'm well up the creek...but I don't need to look further than my reflection for one to blame. If only. I need to start cracking that whip soon or the day is going to go by without me moving. A life-form ought to be more mobile than sedentary, in my opinion. Jesus sends his regards.
Much love and regards,
James
It was a good thing you sent that extra money...I finally had an eye exam and I'm getting glasses. I don't know how much I'll be charged for them, though likely not what they would cost as a free man. That is the single advantage to being here that I know of.
Just got your letter of the 19th. Jesus was extremely happy to get the pictures of the guy he asked for and says thank you very much. His English improves steadily, too bad my Spanish doesn't! He says he hopes your health continues to improve, too. I'm bewildered as to the actual date of my formal review by the institutional and state classification people. I, too, had been told by Mr. Goodwin it would be today, Wednesday, but the only thing that happened is I finally got to see an eye doctor. Anyhow, tomorrow is the day (August 25th), knock on wood. Most likely, I'll still be here until September 7th or later, and looking eagerly forward to a visit from you and Renelle, as I have much to sling dirt about! Because I could be paranoid doesn't exclude the possibility that people are plotting against me...in other words, I need to quit.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Letter 76
August 16, 2011
Dear Mom,
Like the old commercial for a phone carrier, "Can you hear me now?" Let me assure you foremost that I'm okay. Though I believe Jesus is as well, I hesitate to speak for him as I could easily be mistaken. He gives off no signals as precursor to indicate how he really is...sphinx like. For the main, this chapter of my sentence is hopefully drawing to a close now.
I really don't think you need to concern yourself regarding Jesus at all. He has already taken steps, before his review, to safeguard the money set aside for the legal work. When he returns in a few minutes, I'll ask what they were. We are going through a tempest in a teapot here. I'll explain the best I can.
The "Recreation Squad" generally gets away with a lot that the regular officers/staff don't, as they provide a service that is optional to them...and it is outdoors. They don't seem to answer to a Lt. or Captain/Major either. In any case, I'm confusing the issue. They decided to make up some recreation time to us because of getting bumped by weather so often. However, an inspection was going on when they were coming on our wing and they couldn't yell out "Rec" as usual. I heard something, and spotted them coming and that is the only reason Jesus was alerted in time.
They left many behind that otherwise would go, touching off much noisy yelling of questions...impotently. Recreation Officers do whatever they want, regardless of any recourse by a smurf, and this is not right. That is another reason I don't play those reindeer games. So, and this is still developing, the only possible way to get any satisfaction is to tell an officer that one feels suicidal, making it an automatic psych. emergency, and involving the dorm Sgt. and on up.
The problem with that approach is that if at any time afterwards, some officer feels that it doesn't qualify as a bonafide emergency, then one is slammed with a D/R, lengthening the time one is on Close Management status by at least the time spent in disciplinary confinement. I'm not a shrink, but I'd bet $20 that is exactly what is happening here right now.
Jesus says he hopes your back gets better and, although he is impressed with your concern for him, he wants you to know it is without merit as he has many friends to watch his back. His words, not mine.
I really thought I had more to let you know; unfortunately, my musing was interrupted by lunch. I think the food situation has hit a plateau in terms of being offensive. Much like I was, it arrived small and hated. I have a long way to go to make it right with Renelle. Well, can think of nothing else to tell you, so I guess I'll stop now.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. These are Jesus' words, not mine here: He says he wants a girlfriend of a reasonable age, to send him mail so he can further polish his English skills in writing. He is asking if you can help. He is already fairly fluent in speaking English. Now, I told him you are not my "pimp"...you're my mom. The debate intensifies. For some reason, he is possessed by an urge to make up for lost time, educationally. Anyway, just to put a bug in your ear. Renelle is already in on the plot.
Dear Mom,
Like the old commercial for a phone carrier, "Can you hear me now?" Let me assure you foremost that I'm okay. Though I believe Jesus is as well, I hesitate to speak for him as I could easily be mistaken. He gives off no signals as precursor to indicate how he really is...sphinx like. For the main, this chapter of my sentence is hopefully drawing to a close now.
I really don't think you need to concern yourself regarding Jesus at all. He has already taken steps, before his review, to safeguard the money set aside for the legal work. When he returns in a few minutes, I'll ask what they were. We are going through a tempest in a teapot here. I'll explain the best I can.
The "Recreation Squad" generally gets away with a lot that the regular officers/staff don't, as they provide a service that is optional to them...and it is outdoors. They don't seem to answer to a Lt. or Captain/Major either. In any case, I'm confusing the issue. They decided to make up some recreation time to us because of getting bumped by weather so often. However, an inspection was going on when they were coming on our wing and they couldn't yell out "Rec" as usual. I heard something, and spotted them coming and that is the only reason Jesus was alerted in time.
They left many behind that otherwise would go, touching off much noisy yelling of questions...impotently. Recreation Officers do whatever they want, regardless of any recourse by a smurf, and this is not right. That is another reason I don't play those reindeer games. So, and this is still developing, the only possible way to get any satisfaction is to tell an officer that one feels suicidal, making it an automatic psych. emergency, and involving the dorm Sgt. and on up.
The problem with that approach is that if at any time afterwards, some officer feels that it doesn't qualify as a bonafide emergency, then one is slammed with a D/R, lengthening the time one is on Close Management status by at least the time spent in disciplinary confinement. I'm not a shrink, but I'd bet $20 that is exactly what is happening here right now.
Jesus says he hopes your back gets better and, although he is impressed with your concern for him, he wants you to know it is without merit as he has many friends to watch his back. His words, not mine.
I really thought I had more to let you know; unfortunately, my musing was interrupted by lunch. I think the food situation has hit a plateau in terms of being offensive. Much like I was, it arrived small and hated. I have a long way to go to make it right with Renelle. Well, can think of nothing else to tell you, so I guess I'll stop now.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. These are Jesus' words, not mine here: He says he wants a girlfriend of a reasonable age, to send him mail so he can further polish his English skills in writing. He is asking if you can help. He is already fairly fluent in speaking English. Now, I told him you are not my "pimp"...you're my mom. The debate intensifies. For some reason, he is possessed by an urge to make up for lost time, educationally. Anyway, just to put a bug in your ear. Renelle is already in on the plot.
Letter 75
August 21, 2011
Dear Mom,
Greetings from the land of anarchy. I'm joking; the time seems frozen or passing before I realize it...no in between. Since getting the all-important good review, the next and hopefully last phase of these proceedings is due to occur on August 24th. This entails being seen by the State Classification
Officer at which time I am given the opportunity to tell him where I would like to go to finish up.
I'm occupying myself over the weekend with collating and condensing what I intend to bring along on my journey to wherever I'm sent. It is a trying job for sure! More than likely, I should have been a mite more particular about all the junk I've kept socked away in my locker. Oh well, at least I'm not bored. It is relatively easy to keep my editorial opinions to myself now that I can ill-afford to be hit with a D.R. It is easy for me to see now how all of my experiences while incarcerated have been geared to break down my mind. If not for the combination of wise counsel from Jesus, coupled with being very motivated not to stay, I would have broken many a time.
Even so, the petty annoyances continue to mount here. The doctor that came to see me was escorted off the property and will suffer multiple charges, so I heard. I don't know how this letter will sit with the censor that reads it, but don't take this as a fact as it is only hearsay at this point. It seems he was first being checked out for the number of dietary passes he had approved. I don't know if this is true or not, but I've heard that one charge he will need to answer for is one of over-medicating those under his care. I long suspected something was amiss with the remeron I had to take. The reason I opened this the way I did is that since our Lt. was promoted to Captain he has either been on vacation or moved to another prison. I bring this up to mention that, as far as I know, he has yet to be replaced. Seems I'm going to be transferred none too soon from here. A great many gang members are being moved into the wing, and violence is sure to follow, giving more weight to the argument that things are "too soft" here, I'm sure. As if...otherwise, all is well, if that is any kind of correct terminology for the state of affairs here.
I've been considering my desire to contact Laura, and maybe you can coach me on that. Nothing would quite be as gratifying to me as a letter from her would be. Of course, that isn't likely...with her dividing her focus between school and a boyfriend. I wasn't born into captivity and, being young once myself, it isn't difficult to figure out which will get the lion's share of attention. I only hope that I don't become a grandpa while I'm still in prison. I want to tell her there is plenty of time for romance, but educating herself is very time-sensitive. Do you think that would be appropriate?
Jesus sends his regards, and it just occurred to me to ask why the glyphic representation of his name...when it would take a true simpleton not to know who is being referred to. I rest my case. Something else I may need help in is what alternate prison I want to go to for the rest of the time I have to serve. Tomoka is first, as they have a faith-based program I'm interested in. Where I want to go if unable to go there is the prison in Zephyrhills as they take only inmates age 40 and over.
Dad mentioned something about you knowing of a camp with computer access? That one I haven't heard of. If it exists, it is likely restricted to inmates with low custody levels or something like that. Write me and let me know. Guess my break is over.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Greetings from the land of anarchy. I'm joking; the time seems frozen or passing before I realize it...no in between. Since getting the all-important good review, the next and hopefully last phase of these proceedings is due to occur on August 24th. This entails being seen by the State Classification
Officer at which time I am given the opportunity to tell him where I would like to go to finish up.
I'm occupying myself over the weekend with collating and condensing what I intend to bring along on my journey to wherever I'm sent. It is a trying job for sure! More than likely, I should have been a mite more particular about all the junk I've kept socked away in my locker. Oh well, at least I'm not bored. It is relatively easy to keep my editorial opinions to myself now that I can ill-afford to be hit with a D.R. It is easy for me to see now how all of my experiences while incarcerated have been geared to break down my mind. If not for the combination of wise counsel from Jesus, coupled with being very motivated not to stay, I would have broken many a time.
Even so, the petty annoyances continue to mount here. The doctor that came to see me was escorted off the property and will suffer multiple charges, so I heard. I don't know how this letter will sit with the censor that reads it, but don't take this as a fact as it is only hearsay at this point. It seems he was first being checked out for the number of dietary passes he had approved. I don't know if this is true or not, but I've heard that one charge he will need to answer for is one of over-medicating those under his care. I long suspected something was amiss with the remeron I had to take. The reason I opened this the way I did is that since our Lt. was promoted to Captain he has either been on vacation or moved to another prison. I bring this up to mention that, as far as I know, he has yet to be replaced. Seems I'm going to be transferred none too soon from here. A great many gang members are being moved into the wing, and violence is sure to follow, giving more weight to the argument that things are "too soft" here, I'm sure. As if...otherwise, all is well, if that is any kind of correct terminology for the state of affairs here.
I've been considering my desire to contact Laura, and maybe you can coach me on that. Nothing would quite be as gratifying to me as a letter from her would be. Of course, that isn't likely...with her dividing her focus between school and a boyfriend. I wasn't born into captivity and, being young once myself, it isn't difficult to figure out which will get the lion's share of attention. I only hope that I don't become a grandpa while I'm still in prison. I want to tell her there is plenty of time for romance, but educating herself is very time-sensitive. Do you think that would be appropriate?
Jesus sends his regards, and it just occurred to me to ask why the glyphic representation of his name...when it would take a true simpleton not to know who is being referred to. I rest my case. Something else I may need help in is what alternate prison I want to go to for the rest of the time I have to serve. Tomoka is first, as they have a faith-based program I'm interested in. Where I want to go if unable to go there is the prison in Zephyrhills as they take only inmates age 40 and over.
Dad mentioned something about you knowing of a camp with computer access? That one I haven't heard of. If it exists, it is likely restricted to inmates with low custody levels or something like that. Write me and let me know. Guess my break is over.
Much love and regards,
James
Friday, August 19, 2011
Letter 74
August 14, 2011
Dear Mom,
Well, here it is past my due-date for returning books to the library. Don't they realize the library police can levy quite a hefty fine on me for keeping books this long? If only it were such a simple/easy matter to untangle. There is definite cause for hope in my little self-centric world though; it is very possible I failed to mention that my classification officer spoke with me briefly on August 12th, so at least it is likely that he will give the wheels a nudge to either keep me officially or let me go. This being in the dark stuff isn't me any longer.
So, how are you...what are you up to lately? Hopefully you aren't taking on too much at once, you are the only you there is and no one has a spare. For myself, I continue on merrily enduring the derivations of C.M. status with a smile. Just because I smile doesn't mean I'm happy, though. A trait I picked up after being homeless for some years that is kind of like a mask.
J is displaying a marked interest in polishing his already vastly improved English skills. To the point he has the Blue Book of English Grammar as much as I do now. Through many negotiations, we settled on an arrangement that is as fair as anything I am able to come up with: He holds the books that won't fit into my locker for me until I want them, and then I exchange them on a one for one basis. I've got a ton of reading to do now, but one thing has me concerned.
This huge Mark Twain ten-book volume could be counted as ten books putting me way over the limit for the half dozen I'm allowed to keep when I go to the Rec. Center again. I'm not sure if I can keep them with me and I might have to send them to you until I'm in a more permanent situation. Of course, this concession will be moot if I'm given a poor review for some reason. All of my hopes are tied to being transferred this month, and if I had not seen Mr. Goodwin, I might still be in the dark next month as well.
I feel almost like I'm depriving myself. I need to fully explain that statement as it can be easily misconstrued. For some reason beyond my understanding, J wasted no time in giving away the ten food items we get a week. As strange as that was, he seems to be taking on a stance more like myself. I haven't asked him why...but I intend to. That resulted in my again being the only one with anything to snack on, which is growing more of a necessity daily. I don't eat in front of him while I know he is hungry. So, the above is true. (Note from Mom: It is my belief that J is using some of his food money to negotiate contraband items or favors from other prisoners...like cigarettes. James can't say that in a letter.)
Other traits are emerging from his taciturn personality; well, more like longings would be better terminology. Although he has pretty much accepted the fact that he may not leave someplace on this side of the gate, without any obvious anger he has made mention of the fact that I get mail weekly from either you, Chee Chee, or Renelle. Not that he doesn't want me to get the letters, but he would appreciate getting mail in addition to the sporadic letter from Mauro. He would like to correspond with a woman roughly his age (50).
In no way does this reflect any dissatisfaction with Mauro. It is difficult to explain how this is with a guy who is like a Sphinx: in for a penny, in for a pound though. It would make the time go by much easier with someone he could correspond with more often. I'm not asking you to be a pimp for anyone; still, I can only imagine the loneliness he has endured. I know it is hard to imagine times desperate enough to cause me to look back on this as the good old days, no matter what the song by Carly Simon said.
Time to get this in the mail, but I've got a question to ask on J's behalf. The picture you sent of him from the Internet was sent off to Mauro, so now he would like to have two or three more for his family and friends, if you wouldn't mind sending them. Tempus fugit (time flies), or something like that.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. Additionally, would like a picture of Luis Gonzales, DC #M35784, for comparison purposes. Thanks.
Dear Mom,
Well, here it is past my due-date for returning books to the library. Don't they realize the library police can levy quite a hefty fine on me for keeping books this long? If only it were such a simple/easy matter to untangle. There is definite cause for hope in my little self-centric world though; it is very possible I failed to mention that my classification officer spoke with me briefly on August 12th, so at least it is likely that he will give the wheels a nudge to either keep me officially or let me go. This being in the dark stuff isn't me any longer.
So, how are you...what are you up to lately? Hopefully you aren't taking on too much at once, you are the only you there is and no one has a spare. For myself, I continue on merrily enduring the derivations of C.M. status with a smile. Just because I smile doesn't mean I'm happy, though. A trait I picked up after being homeless for some years that is kind of like a mask.
J is displaying a marked interest in polishing his already vastly improved English skills. To the point he has the Blue Book of English Grammar as much as I do now. Through many negotiations, we settled on an arrangement that is as fair as anything I am able to come up with: He holds the books that won't fit into my locker for me until I want them, and then I exchange them on a one for one basis. I've got a ton of reading to do now, but one thing has me concerned.
This huge Mark Twain ten-book volume could be counted as ten books putting me way over the limit for the half dozen I'm allowed to keep when I go to the Rec. Center again. I'm not sure if I can keep them with me and I might have to send them to you until I'm in a more permanent situation. Of course, this concession will be moot if I'm given a poor review for some reason. All of my hopes are tied to being transferred this month, and if I had not seen Mr. Goodwin, I might still be in the dark next month as well.
I feel almost like I'm depriving myself. I need to fully explain that statement as it can be easily misconstrued. For some reason beyond my understanding, J wasted no time in giving away the ten food items we get a week. As strange as that was, he seems to be taking on a stance more like myself. I haven't asked him why...but I intend to. That resulted in my again being the only one with anything to snack on, which is growing more of a necessity daily. I don't eat in front of him while I know he is hungry. So, the above is true. (Note from Mom: It is my belief that J is using some of his food money to negotiate contraband items or favors from other prisoners...like cigarettes. James can't say that in a letter.)
Other traits are emerging from his taciturn personality; well, more like longings would be better terminology. Although he has pretty much accepted the fact that he may not leave someplace on this side of the gate, without any obvious anger he has made mention of the fact that I get mail weekly from either you, Chee Chee, or Renelle. Not that he doesn't want me to get the letters, but he would appreciate getting mail in addition to the sporadic letter from Mauro. He would like to correspond with a woman roughly his age (50).
In no way does this reflect any dissatisfaction with Mauro. It is difficult to explain how this is with a guy who is like a Sphinx: in for a penny, in for a pound though. It would make the time go by much easier with someone he could correspond with more often. I'm not asking you to be a pimp for anyone; still, I can only imagine the loneliness he has endured. I know it is hard to imagine times desperate enough to cause me to look back on this as the good old days, no matter what the song by Carly Simon said.
Time to get this in the mail, but I've got a question to ask on J's behalf. The picture you sent of him from the Internet was sent off to Mauro, so now he would like to have two or three more for his family and friends, if you wouldn't mind sending them. Tempus fugit (time flies), or something like that.
Much love and regards,
James
P.S. Additionally, would like a picture of Luis Gonzales, DC #M35784, for comparison purposes. Thanks.
Letter 73
August 10, 2011
Dear Mom,
Hello from the Land of Eternal Bliss. I am seriously starting to acquire distaste for whatever bungling sub-humans are keeping me here past the six-month-mandatory minimum. It is like I'm a clown for the guards' amusement now. "That's just James making that racket, don't pay him any attention," they seem to say. So, how are you? Well I hope. About the only new information I have came from a nurse filling in for another one on her day off. I may have internal hemorrhoids. I'm just glad it is only that and not anything really bad. I do want out but not that way!
As I wait with few expectations (the better for not getting too disappointed) for a reply from my classification officer, a number of things are occurring now in my mind/on the compound. I asked Mr. Goodwin when I could expect to be transferred. Anyhow, I say this out of love/respect for being here: I feel like Jane Goodall. You'd honestly not believe some of the stuff I see that goes on here if you saw it. I'm faced with a question every behavioral researcher needs to answer when presenting their findings: Did removal from a society cause/lead to the displays witnessed, or were they incipient to begin with? Either way, it comes down to this: I'm being cultivated like a mushroom here.
I'm afraid to rock the boat too much, so I'm only sending notice of my readines to get moved to Mr. Goodwin. If I don't get a satisfactory response, then I'll move it up the food chain, but right now I can't afford to play with it that way. Along with my other needs, could you possibly find out what the hold-up is for me? I'd really appreciate it if you would. I mentioned other needs, well, possibly wants would be a more fitting term. You will note that, once again, my balance has crept toward the red side of the ledger. Any help would be greatly appreciated, and also remain solely for my benefit alone regardless of where I end up.
Speaking of ending up, the food cart just rolled in the door. This ought to be interesting, even to me. The meals have gotten steadily smaller and worse, now one meal = 2/3 of one served a month ago. It isn't even food though, and that is what I can't understand. Okay, food is getting more scarce and sometimes tainted. That isn't a reason to cut back on what we get; it's already slim pickens enough. I'd better stop before I ring a bell of truth.
All considered, I'm actually not in too bad a position, that is, if I didn't need to eat to stay alive.. I've made peace with myself for the most part, and two out of three shifts don't regard me as any kind of security threat, with the odd one being the 12-8 shift I'm mostly unavailable for. They treat all smurfs as scum.
This morning I was reminded of my place at the bottom of the pecking order. A lot was happening at once, with breakfast and laundry supposed to be picked up and carted off, and my attempts at getting my area inspection-ready. All this going on when an officer walks in the door and yells "Rec" at the top of his lungs. Discombobulated in the extreme now, I turned away while J was shook down prior to the door opening. The door shut, and I didn't immediately spot the wrong, that our laundry and breakfast were still inside our cell. I tried getting the attention of a guard, but it is like getting a rhino's attention with a feather. I yelled, but not anywhere near as loud as "Rec" was yelled, and I had a valid reason to; the laundry needed to go out to be washed. Might as well be a belch in a hurricane wind for all it got me. Three or four guards finally noticed but all they did was laugh at me and threaten me with their spray. You know,I think I would not be able to hold my head up walking anywhere if I knew in my heart that sort of thing was amusing to me. I didn't get sprayed, but I also didn't get the laundry out either. May Friday will be better. That's the next time the laundry operates.
Well, that's my poison pen(ning) for this week. Wish I had some news to relay...it all looks good on the other side of that cold steel door to me. I wouldn't raise much of a fuss if they transferred me to the worst prison inFlorida. I'm a short-timer and aim to keep it that way! J is in one of his moods; distant and non-talkative. Im going to pry and counsel him.
Like a certain animated swine says, Th-th-th, that's all folks!!
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Hello from the Land of Eternal Bliss. I am seriously starting to acquire distaste for whatever bungling sub-humans are keeping me here past the six-month-mandatory minimum. It is like I'm a clown for the guards' amusement now. "That's just James making that racket, don't pay him any attention," they seem to say. So, how are you? Well I hope. About the only new information I have came from a nurse filling in for another one on her day off. I may have internal hemorrhoids. I'm just glad it is only that and not anything really bad. I do want out but not that way!
As I wait with few expectations (the better for not getting too disappointed) for a reply from my classification officer, a number of things are occurring now in my mind/on the compound. I asked Mr. Goodwin when I could expect to be transferred. Anyhow, I say this out of love/respect for being here: I feel like Jane Goodall. You'd honestly not believe some of the stuff I see that goes on here if you saw it. I'm faced with a question every behavioral researcher needs to answer when presenting their findings: Did removal from a society cause/lead to the displays witnessed, or were they incipient to begin with? Either way, it comes down to this: I'm being cultivated like a mushroom here.
I'm afraid to rock the boat too much, so I'm only sending notice of my readines to get moved to Mr. Goodwin. If I don't get a satisfactory response, then I'll move it up the food chain, but right now I can't afford to play with it that way. Along with my other needs, could you possibly find out what the hold-up is for me? I'd really appreciate it if you would. I mentioned other needs, well, possibly wants would be a more fitting term. You will note that, once again, my balance has crept toward the red side of the ledger. Any help would be greatly appreciated, and also remain solely for my benefit alone regardless of where I end up.
Speaking of ending up, the food cart just rolled in the door. This ought to be interesting, even to me. The meals have gotten steadily smaller and worse, now one meal = 2/3 of one served a month ago. It isn't even food though, and that is what I can't understand. Okay, food is getting more scarce and sometimes tainted. That isn't a reason to cut back on what we get; it's already slim pickens enough. I'd better stop before I ring a bell of truth.
All considered, I'm actually not in too bad a position, that is, if I didn't need to eat to stay alive.. I've made peace with myself for the most part, and two out of three shifts don't regard me as any kind of security threat, with the odd one being the 12-8 shift I'm mostly unavailable for. They treat all smurfs as scum.
This morning I was reminded of my place at the bottom of the pecking order. A lot was happening at once, with breakfast and laundry supposed to be picked up and carted off, and my attempts at getting my area inspection-ready. All this going on when an officer walks in the door and yells "Rec" at the top of his lungs. Discombobulated in the extreme now, I turned away while J was shook down prior to the door opening. The door shut, and I didn't immediately spot the wrong, that our laundry and breakfast were still inside our cell. I tried getting the attention of a guard, but it is like getting a rhino's attention with a feather. I yelled, but not anywhere near as loud as "Rec" was yelled, and I had a valid reason to; the laundry needed to go out to be washed. Might as well be a belch in a hurricane wind for all it got me. Three or four guards finally noticed but all they did was laugh at me and threaten me with their spray. You know,I think I would not be able to hold my head up walking anywhere if I knew in my heart that sort of thing was amusing to me. I didn't get sprayed, but I also didn't get the laundry out either. May Friday will be better. That's the next time the laundry operates.
Well, that's my poison pen(ning) for this week. Wish I had some news to relay...it all looks good on the other side of that cold steel door to me. I wouldn't raise much of a fuss if they transferred me to the worst prison inFlorida. I'm a short-timer and aim to keep it that way! J is in one of his moods; distant and non-talkative. Im going to pry and counsel him.
Like a certain animated swine says, Th-th-th, that's all folks!!
Much love and regards,
James
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Letter 72
August 03, 2011
Dear Mom,
Just want to brief you on the latest here. However, before I get carried away with letting you know how I feel about the general deprivation and mistreatment here, how are you? Hopefully not too busy or stressed. It would only make sense, especially regarding those of us with upcoming release dates, to funnel us into more reintegration-oriented programs. Somewhat like mainstreaming in the schools. That is just one of my ideas, and I think many facilities already have that policy enforced. To be more on point, they are not letting me know yet one way or the another about any plans they have for me post close management.
The latest policy I know of, having the Colonel's finger prints all over it, is one that came up against overwhelming opposition from the crowd that can't leave here. The guards have started going into our laundry bags and taking all the t-shirts out. This cannot be good for those who recently arrived or those without a good chance of leaving. I would appreciate it if you could do what you can to reverse this most recent nonsense. It even precludes itself: For the entirety of the 8-4 shift, we are required to be in full dress uniform which includes wearing a t-shirt. How can we be in full uniform when part of it is against policy? Boggles my mind to think of this!
I'm hoping you are able to interpret this, as what I don't let put out there to be read and scrutinized could fill the Library of Congress. This is not a gray area, or one I'm able to infringe on every so often. This is more of a concrete hard near-law that I would be wise to avoid if possible. This is the third version of my letter, as I needed to practice restraint of pen (and tongue.)
All I want is for relative peace to surround me but that seems contrary to all these needlessly punitive/restrictive policies being invoked.
Just received you letter and was very happy to hear from you, as always. I don't have it on hand or I'd respond to several points you made in it. In any event, the day was not all bad today. I saw the guy from the education department and he gave me some work from two out of three classes I asked for. The third isn't allowed as it has a great deal of outdoor activity associated with it. Ah, now I've got it...
J has certainly kept me pacified and on the rare occasions he has gotten excitable I've been able to do the same for him. It is great that it's working out that way, I think.
Okay, to answer some points I've been ruminating about. Some parts I've left out until I talk with J, but the rest speak for themselves. First up, it's not that I'm not interested in learning Spanish so much as how time-limited I am for various reasons having to do with medicine hangovers. The main reason J has not gotten representation for his case in Tallahassee Florida
The glasses work great. You don't realize what a huge handicap not being able to see is until you can't see. My vision has been restored to its former acuity, thanks to you. Regarding the closing paragraphs of your letter, one of the things hard/impossible for someone not here to understand is how narrow our focus gets. By locking us in a cell 6' by 14', our world essentially collapses to what we can see.
So now I'll see if J has any input before I close. (The following is a note from J)
Dear Sharon,
I don't mind if you send word to me through James. I know you are a married woman and your decision is the right thing to do.
About hiring an attorney from outside, in this case or any case would be wonderful, but I think that I can make the appeal go through with a little bit of money paid to a paralegal. Hiring an attorney will cost me several thousand dollars I don't have.
Now please listen to this: I'm a man who's sentence was Life or 25 years minimum mandatory, eligible for parole after 25 years. I've already served 29 years on the 25 and this means that my freedom is in the parole commissioner's hands. With a good lawyer, I can seek a conditional relief with the condition I go back to Cuba not to ever return to the U.S. U.S.
That was J through me. I got so drained with the constant changing and interpreting all I could do after I wrote that is fall right to sleep. Above reads the first of his revisions in the master plan he's got for getting back to Cuba
There are interesting morsels of gossip going around here now. Many close management inmates know for a fact that a plan to phase out all the C.M. III inmates is in the works, which would make it silly to extend my confinement beyond six months. Those rumors likely have been distorted out of all proportion to the truth, however, and are unsubstantiated. Well, I can envision an interesting day ahead, might as well get moving. Please read this carefully, as I didn't include all that is happening here. I'll strike again soon.
Much love and regards,
James
Letter 71
August 01, 2011
Dear Mom,
Hope you are well and reasonably stress-free. I continue to put one foot in front of the other, eventually leading back to a free society. In answer to your most likely unspoken question, I haven't seen the state classification officer yet, although it is likely going to be this week as he only comes this way two times per month.
Many questions hang on when he sees me. I guess he is a bit like one of Elliot Ness' group of untouchables, as he has unlimited authority in the state of Florida and answers only to Uncle Rick himself. That is my understanding of the situation, possibly wrong though it may be.
At any rate, I appreciate very much the things you are doing for me. J is mailing out a letter to Renelle, detailing what he needs done would be my best guess. I've been answering his questions about syntax and usage/spelling, but don't feel it is my place to pry further.
I believe I've seen the last of the ground-shaking changes I'll be cooped up in here for, barring unforeseen complications. It is really not difficult to do as I'm told, and if I keep my commentary internalized. If not for certain more sadistic officers here, this would be an ideal way to do time.
Don't have a lot of time to finish this, as the light has been on in the cells now over a half hour (for master roster count), and due to go out shortly.
Much love and many thanks,
James
Dear Mom,
Hope you are well and reasonably stress-free. I continue to put one foot in front of the other, eventually leading back to a free society. In answer to your most likely unspoken question, I haven't seen the state classification officer yet, although it is likely going to be this week as he only comes this way two times per month.
Many questions hang on when he sees me. I guess he is a bit like one of Elliot Ness' group of untouchables, as he has unlimited authority in the state of Florida and answers only to Uncle Rick himself. That is my understanding of the situation, possibly wrong though it may be.
At any rate, I appreciate very much the things you are doing for me. J is mailing out a letter to Renelle, detailing what he needs done would be my best guess. I've been answering his questions about syntax and usage/spelling, but don't feel it is my place to pry further.
I believe I've seen the last of the ground-shaking changes I'll be cooped up in here for, barring unforeseen complications. It is really not difficult to do as I'm told, and if I keep my commentary internalized. If not for certain more sadistic officers here, this would be an ideal way to do time.
Don't have a lot of time to finish this, as the light has been on in the cells now over a half hour (for master roster count), and due to go out shortly.
Much love and many thanks,
James
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