October 23, 2011
Dear Mom,
As this is likely the last letter I write you at my current age and before our visit I would like to include some informative facts that, as far as I know, the administration won't tell you. Unfortunately, my brain is being held hostage by alien beings now so that fact has trumped all others. Hopefully, all is well and on track and on schedule for the visit. I've got much to say about being incarcerated thus far.
Without dwelling on the negative aspects and particulars, let me just claim that at this point I'm of the opinion that if I'm released and unchanged any further I'll be a clearly undisputed victor/miracle. As that isn't likely to occur though, I will further perfect my budding ability to be as inoffensive in speech and action as I'm able in the time I've yet to be incarcerated. I still need to ask around about how visitation is conducted, here particularly, but one thing is likely to be more true than anything else: I had all my head/facial hair shaved off after being here ten days because I lost a bet and I'm just starting to grow it back...so please don't be shocked by my looks.
Besides which, I received a letter from Dad/Thailand in which he asked questions revealing a wider range of feeling than I'd given him credit for showing, even privately. Please forward my response to him...thank you. Otherwise, I'm going to presume we will be watched even more closely here than in a straight D.O.C. camp with the reason being the prevalence of drugs and abuses of them by most of the inmates here. However, hopefully this will reach you before making the drive for the visit, and to let you know one last thing I've been told by the top staff here; apparently, there is a machine in a room you go through on the way out with the ability to instantly transfer money into any inmates account.
At times, it is good to be able to be as relaxed as I can wisely be in here. As always, much love and regards, you aging son,
James
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Letter 92
October 19, 2011
Dear Mom,
Responding to your letter of October 16th is a task so complex in form that I may not be able to adequately answer all the topics this caused to come to my mind. I will explain as best I'm able, though. I've had no sleep to speak of for more than 48 hours now, I'm still afflicted with being unable to breathe like others, and, to top it all off, witnessed during a fire drill early this morning the guards being totally lost as to what to do! Keystone kops routine, badly. So, hopefully you are well and your back issues aren't troubling your mind much.
Though I've already expressed how I'm doing, I'll lay it out as plainly as possible for the impaired censors: I'm sick and don't feel secure with these idiots and their keys in charge of my well being. I'd belabor my point more stressfully but can't come up with a method for truly being forthright about these morons. What it comes down to, after the cosmetics are removed, is the job they do works best when all is as expected; throw any tiny bit of a crisis at them and they are completely clueless, however.
Basically, the largest adversity I face comes down to the spelling of the word "acceptance:" I tend to spell the word "exceptance" instead; I mean, they sound alike, right? Things like waking us up from sound sleep (here I refer to others) to be crowded into a narrow hall for 45 minutes inspires in me a spirit of complete cooperation...NOT! If there actually were a fire we would all be cooked through in the time it took them to act.
About the classes, I've got virtually no chance of switching into some actual educational ones until/unless I'm through with the Therapeutic Community course. What I have in mind to pursue as a method for providing income for myself is a writing career. I don't expect to be taken as the greatest thing since sliced bread at first. That will occur in stages...or not, as fate has it in store. I'm not looking for access to large amounts of cash in any case, as I feel that would be detrimental to both my recovery and my life.
I've already stated my position with regards to recreational reading material but may have ignored the issue unintentionally. While I am getting more free time, others are getting more seriously re percussive. I deal with it writing letters, as I've got no other option than passing the huge jagged kidney stone represented by this issue. I'm ahead of the learning curve on that, I suppose.
Likely the biggest rub here is the fact that due to the rapid turnover rate the only real information I'm exposed to comes from counselors nearly senile...they remember prohibition, in some cases, and so forth. They are unqualified, and in many cases just wrong, for the tasks set before them. So you see the state of my state, hopefully. A large and growing source of dissatisfaction/unrest with me. I don't likely have anywhere near their experience in the field of counseling, but I do know when I'm being jerked around. It is probably difficult for the counselors too, having to adjust themselves to the current generation of addicts/alcoholics/criminals.
My former celly is no longer my celly. He had a pre-existing medical condition that he had just begun to be treated for at South Florida, was moved here and promptly forgotten. I wrote Renelle about it more in depth and she will get that letter about the time you get this. I need to tend to the business of cleaning this cell better than it is so I don't seem slovenly. That is the approximate size and shape of the situation with me, for now.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Responding to your letter of October 16th is a task so complex in form that I may not be able to adequately answer all the topics this caused to come to my mind. I will explain as best I'm able, though. I've had no sleep to speak of for more than 48 hours now, I'm still afflicted with being unable to breathe like others, and, to top it all off, witnessed during a fire drill early this morning the guards being totally lost as to what to do! Keystone kops routine, badly. So, hopefully you are well and your back issues aren't troubling your mind much.
Though I've already expressed how I'm doing, I'll lay it out as plainly as possible for the impaired censors: I'm sick and don't feel secure with these idiots and their keys in charge of my well being. I'd belabor my point more stressfully but can't come up with a method for truly being forthright about these morons. What it comes down to, after the cosmetics are removed, is the job they do works best when all is as expected; throw any tiny bit of a crisis at them and they are completely clueless, however.
Basically, the largest adversity I face comes down to the spelling of the word "acceptance:" I tend to spell the word "exceptance" instead; I mean, they sound alike, right? Things like waking us up from sound sleep (here I refer to others) to be crowded into a narrow hall for 45 minutes inspires in me a spirit of complete cooperation...NOT! If there actually were a fire we would all be cooked through in the time it took them to act.
About the classes, I've got virtually no chance of switching into some actual educational ones until/unless I'm through with the Therapeutic Community course. What I have in mind to pursue as a method for providing income for myself is a writing career. I don't expect to be taken as the greatest thing since sliced bread at first. That will occur in stages...or not, as fate has it in store. I'm not looking for access to large amounts of cash in any case, as I feel that would be detrimental to both my recovery and my life.
I've already stated my position with regards to recreational reading material but may have ignored the issue unintentionally. While I am getting more free time, others are getting more seriously re percussive. I deal with it writing letters, as I've got no other option than passing the huge jagged kidney stone represented by this issue. I'm ahead of the learning curve on that, I suppose.
Likely the biggest rub here is the fact that due to the rapid turnover rate the only real information I'm exposed to comes from counselors nearly senile...they remember prohibition, in some cases, and so forth. They are unqualified, and in many cases just wrong, for the tasks set before them. So you see the state of my state, hopefully. A large and growing source of dissatisfaction/unrest with me. I don't likely have anywhere near their experience in the field of counseling, but I do know when I'm being jerked around. It is probably difficult for the counselors too, having to adjust themselves to the current generation of addicts/alcoholics/criminals.
My former celly is no longer my celly. He had a pre-existing medical condition that he had just begun to be treated for at South Florida, was moved here and promptly forgotten. I wrote Renelle about it more in depth and she will get that letter about the time you get this. I need to tend to the business of cleaning this cell better than it is so I don't seem slovenly. That is the approximate size and shape of the situation with me, for now.
Much love and regards,
James
Letter 91
October 16, 2011
Dear Mom,
Had to take a break from my involvements as I've got an overwhelming habit of being promoted up to the level of my incompetence, and don't desire to be another idiotic inmate.
Other than the smaller and easily broken ties keeping me grounded, most all is well with me. How are things with you? Well, hopefully. Apparently, I chose the wrong place to get peace, as the T.V. is loudly showing a football game to this zoo full of stupid people. I recall at one point many moons ago I liked watching football...seems like so much has happened internally that "the thrill is gone" to quote B. B. King.
All is much better here, as far as anger and violence go. There are unavoidable incidents with other inmates and guards, but usually much milder than anything at a D.O.C. camp because of the simple fact that no one wants any possibility of trouble here Now, I've stated that to lead into this: Although I believe you are doing all you possibly can to insure my stay here is a comfortable one, I need to tell you that I need some more money in my account, please.
Feel free to disregard this request if you want, or if you sent money this past week and I don't know it, as I can't disentangle myself long enough to get a report from the canteen. Be not deceived, GEO Corporation is in this business to make money...prisons and jails being the biggest legal business in the state. The almighty dollar is the end-all, be-all here, much as it runs at odds to what I've seen of the staff here.
Words alone fail to underscore completely the urgency of this request, for lack of a more fitting word. What I need more than even that is an opportunity to get to the canteen and find out the state of the funds available to me. In the coming week I will be more than caught up with my obligations here and have time to do as I want for a change and I've got additional requests to help me pass the time legally.
The first of these is, I arrived here with only the contents of a small grocery store bag to start out with...no books. The library here has a very limited number of books that I have access to and I've read all of them. What I would like is to get books from Amazon.com like you got for me at Suwannee. Also, possibly, a subscription to the Rolling Stone magazine as a birthday present.
This letter began under my mistaken belief I had a bigger chance to get it done and ready to mail, but that was when I still thought it was an hour earlier than it is. Forgive me for rushing to complete this. I've got it figured out...for the donation of only $52, you will make me a satisfied individual who won't introduce or entertain any topic with money in it for the rest of my 45th year. Of course, I'll go longer depending on if I'm able to get loose from all the schoolwork they've got me doing long enough to make it to the canteen. My celly says hi. I've got to go now.
Much love and regards to all,
James
Dear Mom,
Had to take a break from my involvements as I've got an overwhelming habit of being promoted up to the level of my incompetence, and don't desire to be another idiotic inmate.
Other than the smaller and easily broken ties keeping me grounded, most all is well with me. How are things with you? Well, hopefully. Apparently, I chose the wrong place to get peace, as the T.V. is loudly showing a football game to this zoo full of stupid people. I recall at one point many moons ago I liked watching football...seems like so much has happened internally that "the thrill is gone" to quote B. B. King.
All is much better here, as far as anger and violence go. There are unavoidable incidents with other inmates and guards, but usually much milder than anything at a D.O.C. camp because of the simple fact that no one wants any possibility of trouble here Now, I've stated that to lead into this: Although I believe you are doing all you possibly can to insure my stay here is a comfortable one, I need to tell you that I need some more money in my account, please.
Feel free to disregard this request if you want, or if you sent money this past week and I don't know it, as I can't disentangle myself long enough to get a report from the canteen. Be not deceived, GEO Corporation is in this business to make money...prisons and jails being the biggest legal business in the state. The almighty dollar is the end-all, be-all here, much as it runs at odds to what I've seen of the staff here.
Words alone fail to underscore completely the urgency of this request, for lack of a more fitting word. What I need more than even that is an opportunity to get to the canteen and find out the state of the funds available to me. In the coming week I will be more than caught up with my obligations here and have time to do as I want for a change and I've got additional requests to help me pass the time legally.
The first of these is, I arrived here with only the contents of a small grocery store bag to start out with...no books. The library here has a very limited number of books that I have access to and I've read all of them. What I would like is to get books from Amazon.com like you got for me at Suwannee. Also, possibly, a subscription to the Rolling Stone magazine as a birthday present.
This letter began under my mistaken belief I had a bigger chance to get it done and ready to mail, but that was when I still thought it was an hour earlier than it is. Forgive me for rushing to complete this. I've got it figured out...for the donation of only $52, you will make me a satisfied individual who won't introduce or entertain any topic with money in it for the rest of my 45th year. Of course, I'll go longer depending on if I'm able to get loose from all the schoolwork they've got me doing long enough to make it to the canteen. My celly says hi. I've got to go now.
Much love and regards to all,
James
Letter 90
October 12, 2011
Dear Mom,
I'm so glad to hear from you. A number of topics are currently taking up much needed room in my already crowded-to-capacity head. I will respond, hoping it is received in the spirit it was written in. Starting with likely the most misunderstood of all events in my recent history...my attacking another man in "a fit of rage."
Let me state somewhat too late that although surely angry back
then, the attack took place more as a result of not having any of my medications for at least a week prior to the event. A fact I am sure has been omitted from all documentation regarding the matter. As I stated, though I was angry at the time, I wasn't anywhere close to being angry enough to attack someone with a weapon! I didn't have any control, crazed as I was...all I could do was observe and hope for the best.
Onward, hopefully forward. I believe any further show of contrition on my part would only lead to added mental problems for me and still the other man would be in the same condition he is in. I've had time to devote a bit of serious thought and attention to this matter, and as of now, this is both what I think and how I feel. I'm unable to state my conclusions any more plainly than this, and sadly, yes, it did require an event that serious for me to regain an iota of control over my fate.
I can exercise telepathy-by-mail; you are asking how much actual control I have as a prisoner. My answer to that is practically none. I do expect to be released in the near future, however, and be released with many fewer problems than I arrived with.
On to vastly more pleasant subjects; specifically, Renelle's physical and mental plagues. I feel I've got a better perspective than you have regarding what it is actually like having a manic disorder, not being solidly or entirely free of idiosyncrasies myself. So, yes, I know fully well how much of a trial we are sometimes. I applaud you for realizing that whatever the situation that befalls us, we are at least partly blind to our responsibility for having caused it.
As for the leukemia, I'm going to have to content myself with being happy it hasn't debilitated her more profoundly. I can get a sense of where she is sometimes by the letters she sends me.
About the reliability of letters left in my wake finding me, the letter dated October 7th is the second one I've received at South Bay, which leaves one unaccounted for. Which I'd say is better than I've got a right to expect as I'm still on record as being in the first dorm they moved me into three moves ago! If you sent any letters my way while I was still intransit, it is likely they are lost forever.
I'm also happy Jesus is so much closer to gaining permanent freedom. He discussed in detail his plans and options, although my ability to understand them in limited. I doubt the fact that his plans will move forward on the timetable he has in mind, but without any pertinent details, they are fairly sound...in my estimation. He is a really good guy, but tainted by three decades of needlessly being in prison. This is how I view his case.
Now it is Thursday morning and hopefully this will go out today; if not, it will be three more days before you receive it. The free-floating stress has an effect on even the more "thuggish" population here. While getting breakfast, a guy behind me did his level best to get me to do something to him...even going as far as insulting my intelligence and education! I politely suggested we take up the subject again when we were away from the officers/staff to which he declined. Shockingly.
I'm so glad you were finally able to straighten out the phone situation! Now I know if for some reason I really need to contact you quickly I will be able to. I just hope that the need never arises. As far as the mail goes, all the letters I get have to make the rounds of every dorm in the prison to find me, as I'm not where I'm on record as being...but also not listed as having left the institution either.
If you talk with Renelle, tell her I'm cooking something up worthwhile. I have to go to a pointless class now.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
I'm so glad to hear from you. A number of topics are currently taking up much needed room in my already crowded-to-capacity head. I will respond, hoping it is received in the spirit it was written in. Starting with likely the most misunderstood of all events in my recent history...my attacking another man in "a fit of rage."
Let me state somewhat too late that although surely angry back
then, the attack took place more as a result of not having any of my medications for at least a week prior to the event. A fact I am sure has been omitted from all documentation regarding the matter. As I stated, though I was angry at the time, I wasn't anywhere close to being angry enough to attack someone with a weapon! I didn't have any control, crazed as I was...all I could do was observe and hope for the best.
Onward, hopefully forward. I believe any further show of contrition on my part would only lead to added mental problems for me and still the other man would be in the same condition he is in. I've had time to devote a bit of serious thought and attention to this matter, and as of now, this is both what I think and how I feel. I'm unable to state my conclusions any more plainly than this, and sadly, yes, it did require an event that serious for me to regain an iota of control over my fate.
I can exercise telepathy-by-mail; you are asking how much actual control I have as a prisoner. My answer to that is practically none. I do expect to be released in the near future, however, and be released with many fewer problems than I arrived with.
On to vastly more pleasant subjects; specifically, Renelle's physical and mental plagues. I feel I've got a better perspective than you have regarding what it is actually like having a manic disorder, not being solidly or entirely free of idiosyncrasies myself. So, yes, I know fully well how much of a trial we are sometimes. I applaud you for realizing that whatever the situation that befalls us, we are at least partly blind to our responsibility for having caused it.
As for the leukemia, I'm going to have to content myself with being happy it hasn't debilitated her more profoundly. I can get a sense of where she is sometimes by the letters she sends me.
About the reliability of letters left in my wake finding me, the letter dated October 7th is the second one I've received at South Bay, which leaves one unaccounted for. Which I'd say is better than I've got a right to expect as I'm still on record as being in the first dorm they moved me into three moves ago! If you sent any letters my way while I was still intransit, it is likely they are lost forever.
I'm also happy Jesus is so much closer to gaining permanent freedom. He discussed in detail his plans and options, although my ability to understand them in limited. I doubt the fact that his plans will move forward on the timetable he has in mind, but without any pertinent details, they are fairly sound...in my estimation. He is a really good guy, but tainted by three decades of needlessly being in prison. This is how I view his case.
Now it is Thursday morning and hopefully this will go out today; if not, it will be three more days before you receive it. The free-floating stress has an effect on even the more "thuggish" population here. While getting breakfast, a guy behind me did his level best to get me to do something to him...even going as far as insulting my intelligence and education! I politely suggested we take up the subject again when we were away from the officers/staff to which he declined. Shockingly.
I'm so glad you were finally able to straighten out the phone situation! Now I know if for some reason I really need to contact you quickly I will be able to. I just hope that the need never arises. As far as the mail goes, all the letters I get have to make the rounds of every dorm in the prison to find me, as I'm not where I'm on record as being...but also not listed as having left the institution either.
If you talk with Renelle, tell her I'm cooking something up worthwhile. I have to go to a pointless class now.
Much love and regards,
James
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Letter 89
October 10, 2011
Dear Mom,
I have yet another endless request to ask of you: I've just had the byzantine record-keeping of this place explained to me by my celly and found that I don't have nearly as much socked away as I thought. I don't wear socks. Since I don't, I traded them away. Anyhow, easy as it is for me to get continuously caught up in wordplay, I need to occasionally make a plainly comprehensible request for more in my account...please. Thank you very much, even if you decide not to send anything now.
Knowing that the countdown has begun is enough for me to tie my hopes to, as in less than a year I could be relatively free to do as I please. At the current rate, that is. Although the "here" is preferable by far than any other prison I've been in, no one wants to be here. We smurfs are doubly punished: The first way is by being incarcerated; the second and more demanding way, of course, is to be funneled through these programs for self improvement like we are.
This creates tremendous friction and even enmity between the counselors and smurfs, with some of the counselors taking on attributes of Gargamel. If I weren't directly involved, it would be funny. As it stands though, it isn't. At hand are also the following situations: Our microwave no longer works due to overuse likely, resulting in no one trying to replace it on a holiday and no way to heat up anything which leaves me stymied for a cup of hot coffee tomorrow morning. I suppose that, since I've gone as long as a year without any coffee at all, this currently shouldn't even represent a mild difficulty. They ought to be mindful of facts; specifically, that a microwave cannot be run continually and used to dry the occasional batch of laundry successfully.
We do quite a lot of our own washing and have nowhere for it to dry, as our cells are crowded and the guards come in and randomly take away any clotheslines we have. So, we adapt and use the microwave! It is a real hindrance to maintain an acceptably hygienic area...the guards are shooting themselves in the foot.
At least I laid in some siege supplies before the money dried up, so my celly and I are good for a week or ten days. I understand he was put here (prison) against his expectations and with no one to do anything for him on the other side of the gate. So, what I do is hire him for little jobs and pay him in food he won't ask for. That way, it is a win-win situation. He gets to keep his pride unblemished and I get a watchdog.
I just had a startling thought...I may have already passed up the last opportunity today to drop a letter in the mail. If I have, it isn't the crucial event I make it out to be, as the mail doesn't move on a federal holiday and will get to you just as quickly if mailed tomorrow. Anyhow, this is a glimpse into something of my personal world. Hopefully, you are still solid/stable mentally and emotionally and not scarred as I am.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
I have yet another endless request to ask of you: I've just had the byzantine record-keeping of this place explained to me by my celly and found that I don't have nearly as much socked away as I thought. I don't wear socks. Since I don't, I traded them away. Anyhow, easy as it is for me to get continuously caught up in wordplay, I need to occasionally make a plainly comprehensible request for more in my account...please. Thank you very much, even if you decide not to send anything now.
Knowing that the countdown has begun is enough for me to tie my hopes to, as in less than a year I could be relatively free to do as I please. At the current rate, that is. Although the "here" is preferable by far than any other prison I've been in, no one wants to be here. We smurfs are doubly punished: The first way is by being incarcerated; the second and more demanding way, of course, is to be funneled through these programs for self improvement like we are.
This creates tremendous friction and even enmity between the counselors and smurfs, with some of the counselors taking on attributes of Gargamel. If I weren't directly involved, it would be funny. As it stands though, it isn't. At hand are also the following situations: Our microwave no longer works due to overuse likely, resulting in no one trying to replace it on a holiday and no way to heat up anything which leaves me stymied for a cup of hot coffee tomorrow morning. I suppose that, since I've gone as long as a year without any coffee at all, this currently shouldn't even represent a mild difficulty. They ought to be mindful of facts; specifically, that a microwave cannot be run continually and used to dry the occasional batch of laundry successfully.
We do quite a lot of our own washing and have nowhere for it to dry, as our cells are crowded and the guards come in and randomly take away any clotheslines we have. So, we adapt and use the microwave! It is a real hindrance to maintain an acceptably hygienic area...the guards are shooting themselves in the foot.
At least I laid in some siege supplies before the money dried up, so my celly and I are good for a week or ten days. I understand he was put here (prison) against his expectations and with no one to do anything for him on the other side of the gate. So, what I do is hire him for little jobs and pay him in food he won't ask for. That way, it is a win-win situation. He gets to keep his pride unblemished and I get a watchdog.
I just had a startling thought...I may have already passed up the last opportunity today to drop a letter in the mail. If I have, it isn't the crucial event I make it out to be, as the mail doesn't move on a federal holiday and will get to you just as quickly if mailed tomorrow. Anyhow, this is a glimpse into something of my personal world. Hopefully, you are still solid/stable mentally and emotionally and not scarred as I am.
Much love and regards,
James
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Letter 88
October 9, 2011
Dear Mom,
How are you? Well, hopefully. I'm doing alright and hopefully getting up to speed here in this college that few are graduates of. I'm basing this letter on both the premise that the sooner I get it started the sooner I'll be able to mail it, and the hope that it won't be irretrievably lost in the cell I'm in now. I don't have time to include all that is happening around me, the things that I've set in motion purposefully or otherwise. I'm likely to be interrupted by those inscrutable Mensa candidates at least once, so please bear this in mind if I start to wander.
I don't know if you know this, but the days for visitation are on the weekends and holidays. I'm unsure of the hours, but this schedule conveniently allows for a visit on my birthday! It is difficult to keep my focus on the information I need to be sure you have as there is a tsunami of noise coming at me from outside the cell right now...the natives are (always) restless!
Some, my celly for example, are more tolerable and good-natured than the vast tide of thuggish idiocrats all around me. As I stated, my celly is an exception. At first, before I knew him I mean, he seemed a quietly reserved individual. But when I thought to baffle him into insensitivity with my brilliance his intelligence began to show through. He is younger than me but I don't know how old he actually is...as one learns not to pry for information that is not forthcoming.
In any event, tomorrow starts the next phase of my progression away from the realm of inmates and guards. I'm unsure of just how to approach this final bit of nonsense that seems to be going on here. None of my former stratagems will work for me in this situation. I have to at least make a showing and once involved some useful knowledge might spring loose from me. It is like when you would take me to see Dr. Philpot as a child...all would be well until the nurse called me Jimmy, at which point I knew I would get an injection. Remember how I loved those?
Last night I had a strange dream. I dreamt I was on the North Bahamian blob-sled team. Blob sledding was different from other kinds of sledding in that in a blob-sled run four team members had to maintain streamlined positions without benefit of a sled. Hence, the blob sled. The second night here I did not get a chance to shower so I had a nightmare of being eaten alive by ants.
They are going to dim the lights soon so I will finish this tomorrow. It is tomorrow but I let the fact that it is Columbus Day totally slip my mind and thereby have another day to wrap this up. Also, I let slip the fact Dad is now another year older as well. I'll send him a belated card when I'm better situated myself. It doesn't appear as if the smurf population will get today off from anything but that isn't a huge thing as we barely are active at all. And so it goes, for now.
Of utmost importance, I feel, is not working toward graduating from the program but in figuring ways to avoid running afoul of the many personalities so deeply entrenched in being in a program. That will require tact, strategy, and diplomacy on my part, far more so than the actual assignments. The worst misfortune I continually worry about is that my letters get misplaced before they are mailed. So, that leaves me with a need to contact you with information I consider important enough to have written down, but then need a filing system to keep track of it. I'll tell you of some other oddities in the way this camp is run in another letter, or face to face. For now, since this letter has information you may need in it, I'll drop it in the mail. I look forward to seeing you.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
How are you? Well, hopefully. I'm doing alright and hopefully getting up to speed here in this college that few are graduates of. I'm basing this letter on both the premise that the sooner I get it started the sooner I'll be able to mail it, and the hope that it won't be irretrievably lost in the cell I'm in now. I don't have time to include all that is happening around me, the things that I've set in motion purposefully or otherwise. I'm likely to be interrupted by those inscrutable Mensa candidates at least once, so please bear this in mind if I start to wander.
I don't know if you know this, but the days for visitation are on the weekends and holidays. I'm unsure of the hours, but this schedule conveniently allows for a visit on my birthday! It is difficult to keep my focus on the information I need to be sure you have as there is a tsunami of noise coming at me from outside the cell right now...the natives are (always) restless!
Some, my celly for example, are more tolerable and good-natured than the vast tide of thuggish idiocrats all around me. As I stated, my celly is an exception. At first, before I knew him I mean, he seemed a quietly reserved individual. But when I thought to baffle him into insensitivity with my brilliance his intelligence began to show through. He is younger than me but I don't know how old he actually is...as one learns not to pry for information that is not forthcoming.
In any event, tomorrow starts the next phase of my progression away from the realm of inmates and guards. I'm unsure of just how to approach this final bit of nonsense that seems to be going on here. None of my former stratagems will work for me in this situation. I have to at least make a showing and once involved some useful knowledge might spring loose from me. It is like when you would take me to see Dr. Philpot as a child...all would be well until the nurse called me Jimmy, at which point I knew I would get an injection. Remember how I loved those?
Last night I had a strange dream. I dreamt I was on the North Bahamian blob-sled team. Blob sledding was different from other kinds of sledding in that in a blob-sled run four team members had to maintain streamlined positions without benefit of a sled. Hence, the blob sled. The second night here I did not get a chance to shower so I had a nightmare of being eaten alive by ants.
They are going to dim the lights soon so I will finish this tomorrow. It is tomorrow but I let the fact that it is Columbus Day totally slip my mind and thereby have another day to wrap this up. Also, I let slip the fact Dad is now another year older as well. I'll send him a belated card when I'm better situated myself. It doesn't appear as if the smurf population will get today off from anything but that isn't a huge thing as we barely are active at all. And so it goes, for now.
Of utmost importance, I feel, is not working toward graduating from the program but in figuring ways to avoid running afoul of the many personalities so deeply entrenched in being in a program. That will require tact, strategy, and diplomacy on my part, far more so than the actual assignments. The worst misfortune I continually worry about is that my letters get misplaced before they are mailed. So, that leaves me with a need to contact you with information I consider important enough to have written down, but then need a filing system to keep track of it. I'll tell you of some other oddities in the way this camp is run in another letter, or face to face. For now, since this letter has information you may need in it, I'll drop it in the mail. I look forward to seeing you.
Much love and regards,
James
Letter 87
October 5, 2011
Dear Mom,
First and foremost, please accept my profuse apologies for thinking the worst case scenario of you. Now, moving beyond my humiliating evident need to grovel...let me also state that I had forgotten about your telling me about your plans to attend the reunion; but I'm really glad it worked out so well for you. I'm quite busy, with being moved into and out of dorms here. Three times I've been unsettled and counting. At any rate, hopefully my business is behind me and it will become less chaotic for me now.
The "shakedown" is still an act I must endure daily through the week with the only difference being that now we are fairly able to tell when they are doing it and act accordingly. It is really too bad about the searches being daily but at least they aren't random and arbitrary.
About the educational opportunities here...I've been forced into a box that is shrinking on me while being filled with toxic gas. That is the best way of describing what it feels like to be in this "Therapy Community" program. Although, today I had the highest score out of everyone in the morning class as far as knowledge about different ways drugs affect people. Sad that I know that information through experience rather than book-learning. Still, there is little point in forcing me to relive parts of my past in the class; but to get out of it would mean being sent to another institution so I think I will just man-up and do it.
I'm especially happy that you and Jesus got in contact. He really is one of a kind. I ought to send him another letter soon. I'm going to let the craziness abate here more first, though. I'm proof-positive that lightning will strike many times in the same location. I mean, as far as getting a celly I get along with.
It is easier and better here by far compared to any other prison I've been in, and a bit sadly even better than Suwannee with Jesus. Although my opinion is that due to no fault of his own, much of the world remains the same for him as it was during the 1980's when he began the sentence he has now completed. I feel, after speaking to him, that it is a miracle he functions and relates to others as well as he does considering what he has been through. I feel especially pulled to be a voice for those not in a position to have one and to make the words count for something of value in places like the capital. That is more of a reality than we know, I believe.
I have to go to my classes now so I need to put this on hold. Now we smurfs in the class are told collectively by the counselors and peer-therapists that we represent the brightest, sharpest group to enter the program as far as anyone can remember...period. High praise indeed, if not empty flattery.
I need to start thinking about exit-strategy more and how to come out of experiences wiser than I entered into them. Not just surviving but truly overcoming and even mastering on occasion. Otherwise, the knowledge/experience I've got counts for nil only because I'm not able to demonstrate it outwardly. So I'm able to string random words together to put in the mail...big fat deal is how I feel I rate at this point journalistically by the world's views. I do feel I've calmed down considerably during the time I've been in prison, whether that is naturally occurring or due to the environment. I'm unsure about this.
Before I wrap this up, I'll do my best to answer some questions you asked me: No, this isn't anything like the South Park series on T.V. although it is always cold here because the entire facility is indoors. Air-conditioned, relatively clean and well maintained....but not wet from either rain or snow. The guards here are cut from a better fabric than the ones at the D.O.C. camp, generally, and are much more aware and responsive to the needs of the individuals. This also means that it is much more difficult by far to talk them into or out of something. I'm sure I don't know all the loopholes yet and don't intend to find out either, as knowledge of that kind is more dangerous to me than useful. Everything was taken from me.
Much love and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
First and foremost, please accept my profuse apologies for thinking the worst case scenario of you. Now, moving beyond my humiliating evident need to grovel...let me also state that I had forgotten about your telling me about your plans to attend the reunion; but I'm really glad it worked out so well for you. I'm quite busy, with being moved into and out of dorms here. Three times I've been unsettled and counting. At any rate, hopefully my business is behind me and it will become less chaotic for me now.
The "shakedown" is still an act I must endure daily through the week with the only difference being that now we are fairly able to tell when they are doing it and act accordingly. It is really too bad about the searches being daily but at least they aren't random and arbitrary.
About the educational opportunities here...I've been forced into a box that is shrinking on me while being filled with toxic gas. That is the best way of describing what it feels like to be in this "Therapy Community" program. Although, today I had the highest score out of everyone in the morning class as far as knowledge about different ways drugs affect people. Sad that I know that information through experience rather than book-learning. Still, there is little point in forcing me to relive parts of my past in the class; but to get out of it would mean being sent to another institution so I think I will just man-up and do it.
I'm especially happy that you and Jesus got in contact. He really is one of a kind. I ought to send him another letter soon. I'm going to let the craziness abate here more first, though. I'm proof-positive that lightning will strike many times in the same location. I mean, as far as getting a celly I get along with.
It is easier and better here by far compared to any other prison I've been in, and a bit sadly even better than Suwannee with Jesus. Although my opinion is that due to no fault of his own, much of the world remains the same for him as it was during the 1980's when he began the sentence he has now completed. I feel, after speaking to him, that it is a miracle he functions and relates to others as well as he does considering what he has been through. I feel especially pulled to be a voice for those not in a position to have one and to make the words count for something of value in places like the capital. That is more of a reality than we know, I believe.
I have to go to my classes now so I need to put this on hold. Now we smurfs in the class are told collectively by the counselors and peer-therapists that we represent the brightest, sharpest group to enter the program as far as anyone can remember...period. High praise indeed, if not empty flattery.
I need to start thinking about exit-strategy more and how to come out of experiences wiser than I entered into them. Not just surviving but truly overcoming and even mastering on occasion. Otherwise, the knowledge/experience I've got counts for nil only because I'm not able to demonstrate it outwardly. So I'm able to string random words together to put in the mail...big fat deal is how I feel I rate at this point journalistically by the world's views. I do feel I've calmed down considerably during the time I've been in prison, whether that is naturally occurring or due to the environment. I'm unsure about this.
Before I wrap this up, I'll do my best to answer some questions you asked me: No, this isn't anything like the South Park series on T.V. although it is always cold here because the entire facility is indoors. Air-conditioned, relatively clean and well maintained....but not wet from either rain or snow. The guards here are cut from a better fabric than the ones at the D.O.C. camp, generally, and are much more aware and responsive to the needs of the individuals. This also means that it is much more difficult by far to talk them into or out of something. I'm sure I don't know all the loopholes yet and don't intend to find out either, as knowledge of that kind is more dangerous to me than useful. Everything was taken from me.
Much love and regards,
James
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Letter 86
October 7, 2011
Dear Renelle,
How are you? I haven't received word from you since I was at Suwannee, which hopefully indicates only that you have been scrambling and didn't have time to write. At any rate of progress, I continue to adjust to the nonsensical ways of being here. More about that further on.
Today I've got a more important event on the horizon, namely moving out of the part of the class taught at the farthest part of this place which requires much walking to get to. Let me explain what I understand about this "Therapeutic Community" program, please. For no other reason than that someone between here (me) and the government wants to pad their expenses, I've been put into a program offering "increased knowledge of what makes one tick."
I am resistant, yet feel that the wise course of action is not with active resistance, or "bucking" as it is commonly called. Being stuck without viable recourse in the program is a risky way of getting my sentence shortened, though. If I get the totality of requirements met for completion, I'll be the proud bearer of a piece of meaningless paper. If I don't for any reason fully complete all the requirements they haven't even finished putting together, a consequence of some type of administrative action will result...up to and including a likely D.R. for "failure to comply," etc. So, what I mean by that is, I'd better guard myself well. Though this is the best one I have been to, it is a prison with all the connotations thereof.
On the lighter side, I'm putting together something like a chronicle of my life as I recall so far, which I hope will be informative to others in a widespread way. At the present stage, it is little more than one of my ideas to provide me with an income after my release. I find it difficult to keep my thoughts ordered enough to compose them in hard copy. Also, it is tough for other practical reasons to keep them ordered and together. I'm entertaining ideas for a tentative title; so far the front-runner is "A Life As Such."
Now we remaining smurfs, coming out from far darker prisons that were equally as restrictive, have essentially endured the waiting trial-phase of orientation of the program and have completed it to be dispersed to whatever dorm they move us to for further study.
As I stated, it isn't difficult, particularly as we are a "pioneer group," which translates as lab rats, so we aren't expected to be perfect. I know all of the material being taught but don't want to appear too smart as I will get labeled. Dumbing-down isn't quite as difficult here, as the others are likely all at least at G.E.D. functioning level; but it is still tricky if I forget.
It is harder to remain compliant to what I'm told are requirements now, as I don't have any way of knowing beforehand what they are. I'm understandably a bit nervous due to the hands being attached to different bodies here, each with the capability of deciding I'm not acceptable and writing a D.R. that would stick to me, thus sending me deep into the panhandle on the next thing moving and back to a far worse C.M. (close management) than I've been through as of yet. That is the price for my being here...constant concern that it will happen.
Otherwise, as my sentence continues to wind down and I become more acclimated to the pace of this environment, I don't have much I'm currently willing to print here...the knowledge I've got is that sensitive. I'm hoping to see you on or before I turn another year older in prison; I'll turn 29 on the end of the month. I seem older chiefly as time passing is about the most subjective natural occurrence there is, in my opinion. More about that in a following letter.
As of now, Friday, October 7th, the mail has been passed out and most here received some. I, however, remain abstinent in that regard. Along with my commentary on the seemingly different rates time passes, I'll include some on the people (et.al.) I've come to know/socialize with during the time when my options have been harshly limited. However, it may not be in the same letter as I tend to be inclined to verbosity and embellishment, which only works for me if I'm paid by the word. I've got what amounts to an astounding but selective recall.
In our class this morning,I asked a question relating directly to overcoming our addictions that is still a "stumper." It was a two-part question that in my estimation was way too advanced for even the highly educated counselors here. The first part: What recently discovered chemical is only found in brains of addicts/alcoholics This chemical is the only proven determiner as to whether an individual will become an addict/alcoholic. It is called "THIQ" for an abbreviation of Tetrahydraisoquinlan. Like apples...how about those! I've indisputably got the most knowledge of addiction in all of it's splendiforous forms, but lack a certain amount of the type sense a program like this is installing/instilling in me. In other words, I know the answers, but the questions elude me. Oh well, I don't claim perfection...yet.
The program purports to teach a way of thinking differently, but though it may actually provide a new mental map, the individual has the responsibility for the interpretation of it. So, the burden is on our shoulders; indeed, has never been gone. What the program is offering us is to learn to use different muscle groups in an alternating way, so as to make it seem easier to carry.
On to more practical matters. Due to the schedule during the week, we don't get much latitude for visitation. The days visiting is allowed are both Saturday and Sunday, which I don't know if you already know or not, so I'll go ahead and give you the spiel: Although I don't know the hours by rote, I'm sure they are less restrictive than while I was at Suwannee. I've looked at the calendar and my birthday falls on Sunday this year, so, if not before then, hopefully you will make a brighter spot in this grim, dark time I'm enduring by visiting me on my birthday. By the way, I've talked with people who tell me it is possible to visit on both Saturday and Sunday consecutively.
Now I've been locked in for "count", a sometimes endless series of the guards mistakes/blunders/fumbles. During this part of the day I'm most powerfully reminded of how little I control my short-term destiny. We smurfs have to remain sitting on the bunk we are assigned, even when there is no one watching for the reason they might be. The part I don't understand is why according to the code they must operate within, we aren't permitted anything that might be a distraction. I mean, it's their job, right? I'm sure if I asked all the smurfs statewide, 100% of them didn't ask for incarceration...so my point is why are we held accountable for what we can't control? I haven't witnessed any D.R.'s handed out for non-compliance with count procedure yet, but it may only be a matter of time. What do you think?
It is difficult for me to understand other aspects of incarceration as well...guess I shouldn't concern myself with things as circuitously inscrutable as the reason employed by the prison system in Florida. Here though, the typical officer is much more mentally stable than would be true at a D.O.C. camp, so there is more of a streamlined feel to the day-to-day operation of the prison as a whole.
I'm sure there is a hypothesis contained in this information somewhere. I've now had all the weekend to "tweak" this to mail it out, but what that translates to is that I've gotten involved in the making sure I'm up to speed here instead. So, the result is a rather sub-standard effort on my part...again. Once a habit or pattern becomes deeply ingrained, they require a willful and concerted effort to break out of. Such is the bane of my existence.
Also encompassed under the heading of "banes" would be the extremely distracting and idiotic qualities of the behavior of others. Few indeed catch my bitingly dry sense of humor. This morning as I was finishing up in the shower area in the dorm here a guy walked behind a column to finish the cigarette he was smoking. I moved some clothing I'd washed so it wouldn't smell like smoke and he said, "you're okay." I said, "no, I'm not...I'm in prison." He looked at me like I'd just sprouted another head in front of him.
Your temporarily subjugated friend,
James
Dear Renelle,
How are you? I haven't received word from you since I was at Suwannee, which hopefully indicates only that you have been scrambling and didn't have time to write. At any rate of progress, I continue to adjust to the nonsensical ways of being here. More about that further on.
Today I've got a more important event on the horizon, namely moving out of the part of the class taught at the farthest part of this place which requires much walking to get to. Let me explain what I understand about this "Therapeutic Community" program, please. For no other reason than that someone between here (me) and the government wants to pad their expenses, I've been put into a program offering "increased knowledge of what makes one tick."
I am resistant, yet feel that the wise course of action is not with active resistance, or "bucking" as it is commonly called. Being stuck without viable recourse in the program is a risky way of getting my sentence shortened, though. If I get the totality of requirements met for completion, I'll be the proud bearer of a piece of meaningless paper. If I don't for any reason fully complete all the requirements they haven't even finished putting together, a consequence of some type of administrative action will result...up to and including a likely D.R. for "failure to comply," etc. So, what I mean by that is, I'd better guard myself well. Though this is the best one I have been to, it is a prison with all the connotations thereof.
On the lighter side, I'm putting together something like a chronicle of my life as I recall so far, which I hope will be informative to others in a widespread way. At the present stage, it is little more than one of my ideas to provide me with an income after my release. I find it difficult to keep my thoughts ordered enough to compose them in hard copy. Also, it is tough for other practical reasons to keep them ordered and together. I'm entertaining ideas for a tentative title; so far the front-runner is "A Life As Such."
Now we remaining smurfs, coming out from far darker prisons that were equally as restrictive, have essentially endured the waiting trial-phase of orientation of the program and have completed it to be dispersed to whatever dorm they move us to for further study.
As I stated, it isn't difficult, particularly as we are a "pioneer group," which translates as lab rats, so we aren't expected to be perfect. I know all of the material being taught but don't want to appear too smart as I will get labeled. Dumbing-down isn't quite as difficult here, as the others are likely all at least at G.E.D. functioning level; but it is still tricky if I forget.
It is harder to remain compliant to what I'm told are requirements now, as I don't have any way of knowing beforehand what they are. I'm understandably a bit nervous due to the hands being attached to different bodies here, each with the capability of deciding I'm not acceptable and writing a D.R. that would stick to me, thus sending me deep into the panhandle on the next thing moving and back to a far worse C.M. (close management) than I've been through as of yet. That is the price for my being here...constant concern that it will happen.
Otherwise, as my sentence continues to wind down and I become more acclimated to the pace of this environment, I don't have much I'm currently willing to print here...the knowledge I've got is that sensitive. I'm hoping to see you on or before I turn another year older in prison; I'll turn 29 on the end of the month. I seem older chiefly as time passing is about the most subjective natural occurrence there is, in my opinion. More about that in a following letter.
As of now, Friday, October 7th, the mail has been passed out and most here received some. I, however, remain abstinent in that regard. Along with my commentary on the seemingly different rates time passes, I'll include some on the people (et.al.) I've come to know/socialize with during the time when my options have been harshly limited. However, it may not be in the same letter as I tend to be inclined to verbosity and embellishment, which only works for me if I'm paid by the word. I've got what amounts to an astounding but selective recall.
In our class this morning,I asked a question relating directly to overcoming our addictions that is still a "stumper." It was a two-part question that in my estimation was way too advanced for even the highly educated counselors here. The first part: What recently discovered chemical is only found in brains of addicts/alcoholics This chemical is the only proven determiner as to whether an individual will become an addict/alcoholic. It is called "THIQ" for an abbreviation of Tetrahydraisoquinlan. Like apples...how about those! I've indisputably got the most knowledge of addiction in all of it's splendiforous forms, but lack a certain amount of the type sense a program like this is installing/instilling in me. In other words, I know the answers, but the questions elude me. Oh well, I don't claim perfection...yet.
The program purports to teach a way of thinking differently, but though it may actually provide a new mental map, the individual has the responsibility for the interpretation of it. So, the burden is on our shoulders; indeed, has never been gone. What the program is offering us is to learn to use different muscle groups in an alternating way, so as to make it seem easier to carry.
On to more practical matters. Due to the schedule during the week, we don't get much latitude for visitation. The days visiting is allowed are both Saturday and Sunday, which I don't know if you already know or not, so I'll go ahead and give you the spiel: Although I don't know the hours by rote, I'm sure they are less restrictive than while I was at Suwannee. I've looked at the calendar and my birthday falls on Sunday this year, so, if not before then, hopefully you will make a brighter spot in this grim, dark time I'm enduring by visiting me on my birthday. By the way, I've talked with people who tell me it is possible to visit on both Saturday and Sunday consecutively.
Now I've been locked in for "count", a sometimes endless series of the guards mistakes/blunders/fumbles. During this part of the day I'm most powerfully reminded of how little I control my short-term destiny. We smurfs have to remain sitting on the bunk we are assigned, even when there is no one watching for the reason they might be. The part I don't understand is why according to the code they must operate within, we aren't permitted anything that might be a distraction. I mean, it's their job, right? I'm sure if I asked all the smurfs statewide, 100% of them didn't ask for incarceration...so my point is why are we held accountable for what we can't control? I haven't witnessed any D.R.'s handed out for non-compliance with count procedure yet, but it may only be a matter of time. What do you think?
It is difficult for me to understand other aspects of incarceration as well...guess I shouldn't concern myself with things as circuitously inscrutable as the reason employed by the prison system in Florida. Here though, the typical officer is much more mentally stable than would be true at a D.O.C. camp, so there is more of a streamlined feel to the day-to-day operation of the prison as a whole.
I'm sure there is a hypothesis contained in this information somewhere. I've now had all the weekend to "tweak" this to mail it out, but what that translates to is that I've gotten involved in the making sure I'm up to speed here instead. So, the result is a rather sub-standard effort on my part...again. Once a habit or pattern becomes deeply ingrained, they require a willful and concerted effort to break out of. Such is the bane of my existence.
Also encompassed under the heading of "banes" would be the extremely distracting and idiotic qualities of the behavior of others. Few indeed catch my bitingly dry sense of humor. This morning as I was finishing up in the shower area in the dorm here a guy walked behind a column to finish the cigarette he was smoking. I moved some clothing I'd washed so it wouldn't smell like smoke and he said, "you're okay." I said, "no, I'm not...I'm in prison." He looked at me like I'd just sprouted another head in front of him.
Your temporarily subjugated friend,
James
Letter 85
October 5, 2011
Dear Renelle,
I've really missed being able to send you letters on a regular basis, but it couldn't be helped with the way things have been going for me lately. Guess I could accurately be compared to a one-legged guy in a fight in terms of my business here for the last three weeks.
Before going on, how are you? I've missed seeing you for a medically hazardous length of time, as I had a tremendous deal of information to tell you but it was not wise to write it in a letter. Although I tried to maintain the viability of that information, it was all destroyed in the series of thefts while in transit to my ultimate destination here. This is a tragedy as parts of it could be of use in overturning my illegal sentence and cannot be retrieved. Oh well, you'd think I'd be getting used to being victimized by this point in my "time."
My time is beginning to be less chaotic now that I am past the initial thrust of the different way this prison is run, and hopefully I'm getting adjusted to the differential speed of this place. I direct your attention to the wording I used: Differential versus deferential. From one to the other is all the difference in the way this camp is run as opposed to a D.O.C. installation.
It's a difficult life being an incongruity spotter...I mean, a good example of what I refer to is a rather drawn out sort of back story, concluding with the fact that no one here in the smurf population wants to give any guard a reason to write a disciplinary report (D.R.) on them as they have the stories about what goes on in D.O.C. camps where they would be swiftly shipped to if they caught a D.R. I don't know what the following is caused by and will let it stand or fall as such. A group of smurfs was watching the movie I Robot the other night and I was waiting for an opening in the line for the microwave and mentioned that a difference between the book and the movie was that in the book one of the lead characters was a male. This resulted in a genormous controversy which included some derivative periodically of the interjection, "Why should I care?"
At any rate, I've been moved, again, to a dorm where all the smurfs in the entire dorm have two things in common at least: They are in some kind of program designed to insure a bigger budget more than anything else, and they've all got a relatively high custody level. The officers did their best to ignore the fact that I've got a low-bunk pass, and if they had succeeded I would be stuck doing my impersonation of a stroke-affected spider man for the time I'm here! The way these cells are made there are no handholds so I'm forced to just jump and hope for the best.
Now I'm nearly moved, and a thought occurred to me as I was making my final trip between the old dorm and the new one, loaded down with all I could carry. Even though I have plenty of water to draw from the well here, I still need to get it from a distant well. No specific reason, just because. This arrangement truly inspires prodigious amounts of cooperation from me. Now though, it is (hopefully) done. I can't wait to see who my new celly is...
Now I've met the celly and he is...me. To put a vague and inscrutable twist on the saying that names ourselves as the only beings that can alter our own fates...if you believe that stuff. Not to put too fine a point on it, anyhow. Significant alterations which have an effect on little ole me are being made and sorted through, prioritized, and passed down to the level where I become aware of them all of the time by all the people between the cell door and Tallahassee's government office. Viewed that way, I'm retaining at least a shadow of the power/influence I think I had. I'm more focused now on exit strategies than getting into anything.
It is a good thing and even providential that we are both who and what we are; which, in each of our cases I believe to be capable of a mind/body synergy that has far reaching effects not only on our inner worlds, but the one we have in common as well. I state the world we commonly share, and not that it is common here. I'm putting a collection together of some of the experiences I recall throughout my life in hopes that it will translate into a future book at some point.
Reminds me, I need to get to the library while there is still movement called to go. C-ya soon, with much information/talk,
James
Dear Renelle,
I've really missed being able to send you letters on a regular basis, but it couldn't be helped with the way things have been going for me lately. Guess I could accurately be compared to a one-legged guy in a fight in terms of my business here for the last three weeks.
Before going on, how are you? I've missed seeing you for a medically hazardous length of time, as I had a tremendous deal of information to tell you but it was not wise to write it in a letter. Although I tried to maintain the viability of that information, it was all destroyed in the series of thefts while in transit to my ultimate destination here. This is a tragedy as parts of it could be of use in overturning my illegal sentence and cannot be retrieved. Oh well, you'd think I'd be getting used to being victimized by this point in my "time."
My time is beginning to be less chaotic now that I am past the initial thrust of the different way this prison is run, and hopefully I'm getting adjusted to the differential speed of this place. I direct your attention to the wording I used: Differential versus deferential. From one to the other is all the difference in the way this camp is run as opposed to a D.O.C. installation.
It's a difficult life being an incongruity spotter...I mean, a good example of what I refer to is a rather drawn out sort of back story, concluding with the fact that no one here in the smurf population wants to give any guard a reason to write a disciplinary report (D.R.) on them as they have the stories about what goes on in D.O.C. camps where they would be swiftly shipped to if they caught a D.R. I don't know what the following is caused by and will let it stand or fall as such. A group of smurfs was watching the movie I Robot the other night and I was waiting for an opening in the line for the microwave and mentioned that a difference between the book and the movie was that in the book one of the lead characters was a male. This resulted in a genormous controversy which included some derivative periodically of the interjection, "Why should I care?"
At any rate, I've been moved, again, to a dorm where all the smurfs in the entire dorm have two things in common at least: They are in some kind of program designed to insure a bigger budget more than anything else, and they've all got a relatively high custody level. The officers did their best to ignore the fact that I've got a low-bunk pass, and if they had succeeded I would be stuck doing my impersonation of a stroke-affected spider man for the time I'm here! The way these cells are made there are no handholds so I'm forced to just jump and hope for the best.
Now I'm nearly moved, and a thought occurred to me as I was making my final trip between the old dorm and the new one, loaded down with all I could carry. Even though I have plenty of water to draw from the well here, I still need to get it from a distant well. No specific reason, just because. This arrangement truly inspires prodigious amounts of cooperation from me. Now though, it is (hopefully) done. I can't wait to see who my new celly is...
Now I've met the celly and he is...me. To put a vague and inscrutable twist on the saying that names ourselves as the only beings that can alter our own fates...if you believe that stuff. Not to put too fine a point on it, anyhow. Significant alterations which have an effect on little ole me are being made and sorted through, prioritized, and passed down to the level where I become aware of them all of the time by all the people between the cell door and Tallahassee's government office. Viewed that way, I'm retaining at least a shadow of the power/influence I think I had. I'm more focused now on exit strategies than getting into anything.
It is a good thing and even providential that we are both who and what we are; which, in each of our cases I believe to be capable of a mind/body synergy that has far reaching effects not only on our inner worlds, but the one we have in common as well. I state the world we commonly share, and not that it is common here. I'm putting a collection together of some of the experiences I recall throughout my life in hopes that it will translate into a future book at some point.
Reminds me, I need to get to the library while there is still movement called to go. C-ya soon, with much information/talk,
James
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Letter 84
October 04, 2011
Dear Mom,
Before I ask about how you are, I'll state that this is about the 10th time I've written you without mailing it/them. The reason I encounter so much adversity is plain: I don't have any stamps/envelopes and don't know anyone that does. Thus far I haven't been able to buy any out of the canteen as I have always had an appointment when our dorm has access to the canteen. So, I've got plenty to be upset about in that area.
Now, how are you? Good, hopefully. I've got more to state about that, and a favor to ask you too, but that will be a bit further into the letter. As far as how I'm doing, I likely could be compared to a marble out from a sling shot, bouncing off objects with seemingly no decrease in speed. This, due to the frequency of my call-outs to medical or mental health and counseling therapists.
To date, the call-outs have had the effect of increasing my stress level dramatically. If I'm late to one, I'll get a D/R (disciplinary report) and go straight back to C.M. (close management) at either Santa Rosa or F.S.P., both of which aren't the Floridian paradises of their brochures, let me assure you. It is pretty well guaranteed that none that stay here get into trouble of any kind as it is a fairly sure thing to be shipped off to a D.O.C. camp for getting even a single D/R as I understand it.
Possibly I've overstated the hazards here, but not by much or intentionally. So, let me put you up to speed on what I'm involved with. I'm in a program on weekday mornings called a "Therapeutic Community." Our group, I'm told, is the first to get any hard copy information books, which is both good and bad for us smurfs. Good, as we are freer to work at our own pace, and bad as it can never be fast enough.
As I stated, the call-outs have had a crippling affect on me and my week in the T.C. program simply because this past week I was supposed to be present at five classes. Because of being called away, I only attended two. I missed a lot of important information, as well as being able to express what I feel I need and want out of it.
Excuse my distractedness please, knowing that it is born out of my need to eat opposed to my disinterest in continuing this letter. I have to move quick at times now to have a better chance at getting a tray of decent food. Which, by the way, is 100% better here than in the other prisons I've been to. The portioning is still hit and miss, though. I'm exempt from working in or with the food because I'm still a "close custody" inmate, but expect that will change when the officer/staff here realizes I'm not a threat or anything like that. All considered, I'm in a much healthier environment, after all the initial breaking in is over.
The part of the camp that I like the most is, especially considering it is a South Florida location, that there is no mandatory recreation yard! I was interrupted again...but this time for a very much needed reason: A call for the canteen. Now, among the many items I have secreted through people here, I've gotten to know a bit of their backgrounds. I don't have to eat what comes in on the trays to get full or reasonably close to it. Thank you for the money in my account, most definitely! Shoot, if it keeps on like this the rest of my sentence will fly by before I know it.
Now, for the part I referred to earlier on. The favor I'd like to ask of you is to be a spy for me...sort of. I'd like to find out as nearly as I'm able to how Renelle really is. I'm not comfortable asking her directly because she could be a lot more ill than she lets me know. I'm a grown adult now and have suffered my share, at least, so I can handle whatever news occurs. Please don't let her know of my concern. It is only that the world will be a more unfeeling place by far without her presence in it that leads me to inquire about her health.
I've got another favor to ask, one that you indicated on prior occasions that you would be willing to do. I'm including a letter to my former celly, Jesus, and hope you will be able to locate the camp he is at and forward it to him. Okay, I'm about out of room to write here so I'll let you get back to your life. Thank you very much.
Much love, and regards,
James
Dear Mom,
Before I ask about how you are, I'll state that this is about the 10th time I've written you without mailing it/them. The reason I encounter so much adversity is plain: I don't have any stamps/envelopes and don't know anyone that does. Thus far I haven't been able to buy any out of the canteen as I have always had an appointment when our dorm has access to the canteen. So, I've got plenty to be upset about in that area.
Now, how are you? Good, hopefully. I've got more to state about that, and a favor to ask you too, but that will be a bit further into the letter. As far as how I'm doing, I likely could be compared to a marble out from a sling shot, bouncing off objects with seemingly no decrease in speed. This, due to the frequency of my call-outs to medical or mental health and counseling therapists.
To date, the call-outs have had the effect of increasing my stress level dramatically. If I'm late to one, I'll get a D/R (disciplinary report) and go straight back to C.M. (close management) at either Santa Rosa or F.S.P., both of which aren't the Floridian paradises of their brochures, let me assure you. It is pretty well guaranteed that none that stay here get into trouble of any kind as it is a fairly sure thing to be shipped off to a D.O.C. camp for getting even a single D/R as I understand it.
Possibly I've overstated the hazards here, but not by much or intentionally. So, let me put you up to speed on what I'm involved with. I'm in a program on weekday mornings called a "Therapeutic Community." Our group, I'm told, is the first to get any hard copy information books, which is both good and bad for us smurfs. Good, as we are freer to work at our own pace, and bad as it can never be fast enough.
As I stated, the call-outs have had a crippling affect on me and my week in the T.C. program simply because this past week I was supposed to be present at five classes. Because of being called away, I only attended two. I missed a lot of important information, as well as being able to express what I feel I need and want out of it.
Excuse my distractedness please, knowing that it is born out of my need to eat opposed to my disinterest in continuing this letter. I have to move quick at times now to have a better chance at getting a tray of decent food. Which, by the way, is 100% better here than in the other prisons I've been to. The portioning is still hit and miss, though. I'm exempt from working in or with the food because I'm still a "close custody" inmate, but expect that will change when the officer/staff here realizes I'm not a threat or anything like that. All considered, I'm in a much healthier environment, after all the initial breaking in is over.
The part of the camp that I like the most is, especially considering it is a South Florida location, that there is no mandatory recreation yard! I was interrupted again...but this time for a very much needed reason: A call for the canteen. Now, among the many items I have secreted through people here, I've gotten to know a bit of their backgrounds. I don't have to eat what comes in on the trays to get full or reasonably close to it. Thank you for the money in my account, most definitely! Shoot, if it keeps on like this the rest of my sentence will fly by before I know it.
Now, for the part I referred to earlier on. The favor I'd like to ask of you is to be a spy for me...sort of. I'd like to find out as nearly as I'm able to how Renelle really is. I'm not comfortable asking her directly because she could be a lot more ill than she lets me know. I'm a grown adult now and have suffered my share, at least, so I can handle whatever news occurs. Please don't let her know of my concern. It is only that the world will be a more unfeeling place by far without her presence in it that leads me to inquire about her health.
I've got another favor to ask, one that you indicated on prior occasions that you would be willing to do. I'm including a letter to my former celly, Jesus, and hope you will be able to locate the camp he is at and forward it to him. Okay, I'm about out of room to write here so I'll let you get back to your life. Thank you very much.
Much love, and regards,
James
Friday, October 7, 2011
Letter 83
September 25, 2011
Dear Mom,
It has been a truly Herculean effort to get stamps/envelopes without any money here yet. Otherwise, all is well indeed. How are you getting along? This no-stamps deal is about one of the few things that could cause me scarring, mentally and over time. Someone was gracious enough to lend me a small amount food-wise or I would really be up against a wall.
Anyhow, I find that if I dwell on past mistakes and errors it only makes it easier to stay as I am with no mental improvement. This is where the real struggle takes place. I've gone over the figures again and again only to be re confronted with the ugly fact of need. My celly is a decent sort of guy, so I was able to copy down prices for the bare essentials and came up with the following: For $50-$100, I can be "indoors comfortable." For an additional $60, I can get new sneakers and new gym shorts.
Although there is much posturing and empty bravado going on here, none are willing to make anyone angry enough to get them put on the bus out of here as we are all D.O.C. refuges and know this to be a good camp. And, although the prices are a bit higher on some foods, overall they average out to the same...with added variety, no less. This change up keeps the same foods from getting tired and stale. Very similar to a baseball pitcher who has a good change up and can then keep his numbers in better standing/average.
I've still been writing plenty of letters but I have no way to mail them. I will tell you the best way to see that I have at least a way to send and receive mail: Either a cashiers check/money order complete with my name and DC number sent here, or there is a service provided by Access Secure Deposits at inmatedeposits.com on the net.
I would enjoy keeping you up on all the latest except for two stark facts: All the latest may include lies or half truths, and my schedule is compressed so much that it is approaching critical mass! What with getting settled and not revealing any fractures/lies, i.e., my hotly burning rage at the system for the injustices that put me here, I can ill afford to let my guard down at all.
Otherwise, it is a pretty ho-hum routine here. Write me when you can. I need to establish the fact that I'm here in actuality.
Much love and regards
James
Dear Mom,
It has been a truly Herculean effort to get stamps/envelopes without any money here yet. Otherwise, all is well indeed. How are you getting along? This no-stamps deal is about one of the few things that could cause me scarring, mentally and over time. Someone was gracious enough to lend me a small amount food-wise or I would really be up against a wall.
Anyhow, I find that if I dwell on past mistakes and errors it only makes it easier to stay as I am with no mental improvement. This is where the real struggle takes place. I've gone over the figures again and again only to be re confronted with the ugly fact of need. My celly is a decent sort of guy, so I was able to copy down prices for the bare essentials and came up with the following: For $50-$100, I can be "indoors comfortable." For an additional $60, I can get new sneakers and new gym shorts.
Although there is much posturing and empty bravado going on here, none are willing to make anyone angry enough to get them put on the bus out of here as we are all D.O.C. refuges and know this to be a good camp. And, although the prices are a bit higher on some foods, overall they average out to the same...with added variety, no less. This change up keeps the same foods from getting tired and stale. Very similar to a baseball pitcher who has a good change up and can then keep his numbers in better standing/average.
I've still been writing plenty of letters but I have no way to mail them. I will tell you the best way to see that I have at least a way to send and receive mail: Either a cashiers check/money order complete with my name and DC number sent here, or there is a service provided by Access Secure Deposits at inmatedeposits.com on the net.
I would enjoy keeping you up on all the latest except for two stark facts: All the latest may include lies or half truths, and my schedule is compressed so much that it is approaching critical mass! What with getting settled and not revealing any fractures/lies, i.e., my hotly burning rage at the system for the injustices that put me here, I can ill afford to let my guard down at all.
Otherwise, it is a pretty ho-hum routine here. Write me when you can. I need to establish the fact that I'm here in actuality.
Much love and regards
James
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Letter 82
September 19, 2011
Dear Mom,
My education continues in the way of prison conistry. I have much to tell of it; unfortunately, due to an extremely slimy person/group at South Florida Receiving Center I no longer have any stamps, envelopes, or paper to mail any of my letters. I was burgled and robbed on two separate occasions while there. The first was because I had a half-decent celly that I definitely did not want to have any problems with. We had to share a locker but I had the only lock, so I didn't use it out of consideration for him. I was robbed while eating and taking my medications, which can be a rather lengthy affair. When I returned approximately two and one-half hours later and found I had been burgled, my situation started going from bad to much worse. I did what is expected and reported the theft immediately to the dorm officer but I was brushed off and discounted. When I persisted, I was put in handcuffs and "talked to" by another officer including threats of violent bodily harm if I still persisted. That, though, is in the past and I fully realize there is not a viable method of recovering the losses that is practical.
As you are likely aware, I'm now at South Bay, which is run far differently from any of the D.O.C. hell-holes I've been through. So, for the needed funds transfer, you need to go to http://www.secureaccess.com/. It will be in my account immediately. Also, remember how badly messed up my PIN was for the phone? They use a different system here entirely and you put money in the phone account at the same site as you do for any spending money. The site should have adequate instructions to guide you through it. The money left in my D.O.C. account has to come here from Tallahassee so it could be months before I receive anything. I didn't have much left, maybe $14 is all.
This, unfortunately, is all the room I have for this distress (post) letter.
Much love,
James
Dear Mom,
My education continues in the way of prison conistry. I have much to tell of it; unfortunately, due to an extremely slimy person/group at South Florida Receiving Center I no longer have any stamps, envelopes, or paper to mail any of my letters. I was burgled and robbed on two separate occasions while there. The first was because I had a half-decent celly that I definitely did not want to have any problems with. We had to share a locker but I had the only lock, so I didn't use it out of consideration for him. I was robbed while eating and taking my medications, which can be a rather lengthy affair. When I returned approximately two and one-half hours later and found I had been burgled, my situation started going from bad to much worse. I did what is expected and reported the theft immediately to the dorm officer but I was brushed off and discounted. When I persisted, I was put in handcuffs and "talked to" by another officer including threats of violent bodily harm if I still persisted. That, though, is in the past and I fully realize there is not a viable method of recovering the losses that is practical.
As you are likely aware, I'm now at South Bay, which is run far differently from any of the D.O.C. hell-holes I've been through. So, for the needed funds transfer, you need to go to http://www.secureaccess.com/. It will be in my account immediately. Also, remember how badly messed up my PIN was for the phone? They use a different system here entirely and you put money in the phone account at the same site as you do for any spending money. The site should have adequate instructions to guide you through it. The money left in my D.O.C. account has to come here from Tallahassee so it could be months before I receive anything. I didn't have much left, maybe $14 is all.
This, unfortunately, is all the room I have for this distress (post) letter.
Much love,
James
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)