August 26, 2011
Dear Renelle,
Hi, and Jesus sends greetings as well. I feel I've got to "tell" someone of my experience just past--so here goes: I'm in my cell reading the 10th of the 10-in-one collection by Mark Twain, trying not to get over-excited about the next step in the process.
When the guard told me to "get dressed Class-A," I thought sure I was headed for a visit with the Col., classification officer and state classification officer, but a trip to see an eye doctor instead. My disappointment was mitigated when I realized the doctor could make me out a fully valid RX for readers. I thought hard about the character I would assume to him, as it turns out, needlessly. He fussed with this and that, muttering to himself about working with stone-age tools and so on.
The only time he caught me unawares was when he shot a puff of mist of some kind into my blind eye. Immediately he apologized, saying, "I had to be sure." The upshot of the visit, and subsequent groping returning to my cell, is that I'm getting bifocals. The top will help with really far-away things, and the bottom to read with.
The only time he caught me unawares was when he shot a puff of mist of some kind into my blind eye. Immediately he apologized, saying, "I had to be sure." The upshot of the visit, and subsequent groping returning to my cell, is that I'm getting bifocals. The top will help with really far-away things, and the bottom to read with.
At one point in the exam, the nurse/assistant told me she needed to put dilator drops into my eyes; then when she was just about to do it, she told me I might feel a tiny burning and be disoriented. I jerked my head away and asked how "tiny" a burning--I've only got one eye I can see out of. I'm not a robot and my spare parts are extremely valuable, to me at least.
So that botheration is out of the way, now if I have a visit with the I.C.T./State team, I'll be truly happy--blind, but happy. It doesn't have the appearance of being that fortuitous of a day, though. No matter, I just hope they didn't draw the process out eternally like they can. My mental faculties are getting quite the workout lately. I was reaching into my locker for some more paper and pulled out some stale bread! It wouldn't be quite so bad, I've got no clue how long it was in there.
Our dorm guard/housing officer just told me that they're taking a big group in I.C.T.on 8/25, so I'm more at ease in that respect. Thank whatever forces are in control I didn't miss out on that, no matter how good a reason. I'd rather be blind and free than sighted and caged.
It seems a pity to use the last S.A.S.E. left to mail such a short letter, so I'll wait until I.C.T./State, hopefully. Safe to say my mind had grown concerned about missed opportunity, until being reassured by our hausen-kop that it wouldn't be held until tomorrow, that is. I hope you're noticing the words I'm using they serve a self-explanatory purpose in signifying my growing offendedness at the gestapo tactics employed in my locality. Tomorrow, I should (I need to be careful about shoulding on myself) be able to officially serve notice that my 1/2-year hunger strike is drawing to a close. They're so petty here, you need to be on your A-game all the time here. In point of fact, Jesus was "trimmed" for his smurf-bottoms today when all the laundry was returned to us. They aren't the single pocket type, but the highly sought 4-pocket ones they don't issue to Close Management (C.M.) smurfs now.
On a bit brighter note, have you ever marked that in the same way clothing goes in and out of style--T.V. programs do as well? I suppose a case could be argued for this next being a complaint. I cannot understand for the price of my soul, the how/why of the wooly unwashed majority here passing time shouting their deepest/darkest back and forth cell to cell. Beyond that, sometimes it includes cells in the adjoining wings of the building, even. I hope one day for an answer to be revealed, as for now it doesn't make the least bit of sense. Then, the ones yelling out want to clam up and play at being angry. Hah! A hell no fury greater has than I, once I start rollin'.
Just got a very encouraging letter from two people who've been through both highs and lows with me and still claim me, shockingly. My mom and my aunt (in a condo made from stone-ah) in Arizona. I'm writing fast so I can beat the setting sun. My mom says you two are planning to come to this cow-town for a visit on the one-th, and I hope I'm able to contain my mud-slinging until I have the chance to run it past you first.
My aunt just keeps dealing with heartbreaking crises and loss. I know where she finds the strength to, but it seems her branch of the family tree has been severely and harshly afflicted with griefs to the body. She gets the strength to deal with all that from her parents (you met my Grandpa Goldman).
Anyway, out of room, out of light--almost out of time.
Here is the rest of the story. I miss Paul Harvey. Tell you who else I miss though you may feel different about him, Howard Cosell. Sure, the guy was about as abrasive as possible--but as far as announcing went, he kongsized talent among the plebian pygmies.
I never will forget a football game he was doing the play-by-play for, with "Dandy" Don Meredith as his "new" sidekick. As per his usual, Howard went off into fantasy land during some otherwise dead air, and Don was increasingly visibly agitated. He let him go another minute before bursting out to say, "Shut up, Howard--no one cares! They're all making trips to get more beer or use the toilet now, so just shut your mouth."
The game had an unscheduled commercial break then. When they came back, it was like Cosell never had anyone with him, his removal was so thorough.
I never will forget a football game he was doing the play-by-play for, with "Dandy" Don Meredith as his "new" sidekick. As per his usual, Howard went off into fantasy land during some otherwise dead air, and Don was increasingly visibly agitated. He let him go another minute before bursting out to say, "Shut up, Howard--no one cares! They're all making trips to get more beer or use the toilet now, so just shut your mouth."
The game had an unscheduled commercial break then. When they came back, it was like Cosell never had anyone with him, his removal was so thorough.
There is a reason I recalled that long-ago event. In the same way the commentating career of "Dandy" Don was cut short by his own comments, I think I heard that the F.D.O.C. secretary resigned after disputing with Uncle Rick about the budgetary allotment. I'd really appreciate knowing more about it, as this is an issue a bit closer that usual for comfort.
I'm finding myself routinely in the unenviable position of being able to go on with the vainly blithe presumption that all is like it was as recently as '09 even. This realization is having a powerful pre-emtively disconcerting effect on my senses, partly my sense of context. Added to my innate knowledge of right/wrong or good/bad being overtaxed, is the question I've faced up to after denying it all my life up until now: why couldn't I have been stupid and happy instead of having to know why all the time?
--Newsbreak--I'm upgraded from C.M. to general population status (?), though I didn't have the opportunity to meet with State and tell him where I'd like to finish up at. I'm told by the institutional team that the State representative will be able to see me before Monday. Now that is about as official as can be; ironically, I don't feel much different. Sort of anticlimactic, truthfully. Now, I really need my wits about me, though, as it would be tantamount to a breakdown if I snatched defeat out of the mouth of victory at this stage!
The program this station is currently offering has episodically concluded. You are now returned to the regularly-scheduled programs.
However, though I don't know if this bodes ill or well, I was just seen by the State Classification guy today as well--who predictably was unable to be sure about where I'll finish out my sentence, but I don't mind too much as long as they sell coffee where I'm at.
The fact that I saw him on the same day I was made official is a very good sign, though, that I'll end where I want to. Now, anything is possible to happen on any weekday. Though I hope I'll be here for your visit on the oneth, I've done my time and am ready to move on from here. It is a very conflictory development, compressing further my needed preparation for travel. 'Tis a good thing, truly.
Somehow I'll have to recover from the shock of being separated from all these mensa candidates. Don't know how, though. I'll be thinking about doing a piece on having a divided mind and negotiating with it until my next letter. Until then, I'll be like the hare in Alice's Wonderland.
Your very late friend,
James
--Newsbreak--I'm upgraded from C.M. to general population status (?), though I didn't have the opportunity to meet with State and tell him where I'd like to finish up at. I'm told by the institutional team that the State representative will be able to see me before Monday. Now that is about as official as can be; ironically, I don't feel much different. Sort of anticlimactic, truthfully. Now, I really need my wits about me, though, as it would be tantamount to a breakdown if I snatched defeat out of the mouth of victory at this stage!
The program this station is currently offering has episodically concluded. You are now returned to the regularly-scheduled programs.
However, though I don't know if this bodes ill or well, I was just seen by the State Classification guy today as well--who predictably was unable to be sure about where I'll finish out my sentence, but I don't mind too much as long as they sell coffee where I'm at.
The fact that I saw him on the same day I was made official is a very good sign, though, that I'll end where I want to. Now, anything is possible to happen on any weekday. Though I hope I'll be here for your visit on the oneth, I've done my time and am ready to move on from here. It is a very conflictory development, compressing further my needed preparation for travel. 'Tis a good thing, truly.
Somehow I'll have to recover from the shock of being separated from all these mensa candidates. Don't know how, though. I'll be thinking about doing a piece on having a divided mind and negotiating with it until my next letter. Until then, I'll be like the hare in Alice's Wonderland.
Your very late friend,
James
No comments:
Post a Comment