March 9, 2010 12:03 midnight
Now, I’m going to try to write neater, because my aunt says that my handwriting is impossible to read. So….this is me trying. I feel that it won’t last though. Once my mind gets to flowing, I write much faster and that’s when it gets out of control.
How are you? How have you been? I swear, sometimes I feel like such a crappy pen pal. Please try to understand that I think about you all of the time. Really. I just go through so much on the daily, it’s nearly impossible to keep a positive mood, and I think it’s selfish to write the people you love while in an ugly mood. Because moods are infections and contagious, especially with people you care about. So, forgive my sporadic writing. Believe it or not, my days are somewhat hectic (so busy), and by the time I get in the cell at night, collect my thought and relax, all I want to do is read a few pages from a book, pray (not always in that order) and sleep. Then, what’s crazy, I only sleep for three or four hours, and back at it.
But I’m here now. My mind could be anywhere in the world, but it’s here with you. (: So much bulldoody has taken place in the past few weeks. This is a truly evil place. It seems that the devil has free reign in here and causes havoc at every chance.
In the past week we’ve been
locked down, they’ve found four cell phones and three or four ounces of weed—just on my cell block.
Try as I might to stay on the higher ground, there is always a downward force, a current trying to suck me under. It’s going to be hard for me to adjust to telling you all about this place. It is not the pouring out of my soul that bothers me, it’s acknowledging the ugly. I feel like by putting it into words, I give it life, you know?
Anyhow, in the past week we’ve been locked down, they’ve found four cell phones and three or four ounces of weed—just on my cell block. Everyone is watching everyone else. I try to stay out of the way, so as not to get caught up in the tidal wave and drown.
One guy got run off, some knives have been found, and after the actual event, life continues as if it never happened. Everyone turns a blind eye, not because it’s the right thing to do, but because minding other folks’ business will get you killed.
It is not the pouring out of my soul that bothers me, it’s acknowledging the ugly.
Really, it drains me to talk of
such things sometimes.
It has snowed a few times down here too. Once on All Star Weekend, then again a few weeks later, and the snow stayed on the ground for three days!
Folks down this way aren’t accustomed to dealing with ice and snow, so you can imagine what kind of chaos that was. People didn’t show up for work, stuff was shut down. Although the snow was pretty, I don’t want to see anymore this year. I love the cold weather, but it hurts my knee now.
Speaking of stupid people…my celly is one of the stupidest people that I’ve had the misfortune of living with. Sure, he has the I.Q. of 78, but I assumed that it was due to his not being able to read, write or speak English very well. Not the case. He’s just stupid. Point blank. I feel sorry for his kids and his parents. His folks have given him everything and he managed to destroy it all. It frustrates me to watch people who simply don’t care about life, take down the people that care about them. This dude lives every day like it’s his last, with no regard for others. For me, it’s frustrating, because I strive so hard to do what’s good, to survive and cope while this dude just wakes up and does nothing to improve his situation now or in the future.
In other news, my leg has been acting up. I’ve not been scheduled for surgery yet, though. The leg is strong, but there’s still something wrong, very wrong. However, just the other day, I had to realize how far I’ve come from a year ago. Rome was not built in one day. I went from not being able to pedal a full rotation on the exercise bike in October to 5.7 miles and 321 calories burned on level 16 (random hills). I felt like Lance Armstrong. (:
Fondly,
P.S. Okay, I remembered a few things (if you don’t mind). This guy has nobody and he asked me to see if I could get him the mailing address for a friend.
Also, I need some images or photos if you can? The images I need are crawfish, catfish, alligators and soft shell turtles. Sounds crazy, but I’m having this dude draw something for me and I need pictures with details.
Thank you so much!!!
April 11, 2010 11:16 p.m.
How are you, lady? As always, I apologize for the delay in my returning letter. So much goes on in here that I often lose trace of reality and my imagination. All the time, I think I’ve written people back, because I’m thinking about that person, and I compose the letters in my mind while doing other things. My scrambled brain confuses my phantom letters with the real ones, still unwritten.
Blah, blah, blah….it’s always something in this Godforsaken place. How I maintain is obvious, but it still amazes me that one can remain hopeful in a place full of broken and ruined dreams.
There is so much to respond to, don’t think I’ll make it through it all, but I’ll try.
You asked how I cook.
You asked how I cook. Well, it’s one thing when you work in the kitchen, but in your cell, you really can’t cook. You just manipulate food. I have a hotpot that boils, so I can put beef tips, butter, seasoning, peppers and a little water to simmer until it makes a gravy, then pour hot water in a pouch of rice, let it cook and you have seasoned beef with rice and gravy. They sell a good variety of food in the commissary. Instant potatoes, chicken breast meat, chicken and rice, summer sausage, tuna, mackerel, chili, spam, ground beef pouches, V-8, candy, juices, seasonings, all kinds of chips, cheese, hot sauce, peppers, tortillas, ranch, hasenero spread…
Hey, you know what? I need another small favor. You did a great job with the images you sent. Any you see like that or
cartoons, I’d love to have them. I know ink is expensive, so please don’t go out of the way. Also, there are some scenes from the movie “The Princess and the Frog,” where an alligator is playing jazz or something. If you can get any images of any of the animals playing instruments or dancing?
Even though I know you don’t mind doing stuff for me, I’m so prideful, I hate asking. Thank you none the less. (:
So much stuff has been going on here, I’ve not been much of the cheerful, high spirited Jason that you know, another reason I’ve put off writing. My old celly and I were bumping heads, and that’s never cool, but especially when your celly has a big Rambo knife in the cell. I was stressed and frustrated and….this stupid pen is skipping…goodness! My nerves can’t take this!
Okay, I have to buy a pen off someone tomorrow and answer all of your questions. But I’m going to get this letter out. You know how special you are to me. Just please continue to be patient with me? Take care!
Fondly,
P.S. Oh yeah, I’m in a different cell block now. You don’t have to print new labels though, just scratch out the old and write the new next to it. I hate all the trouble you go through, but I adore you for it! (:
Blog
The Human Gun
What’s a gun’s purpose? Guns do just one fatal service, they hit and crumble you up until you’re worthless. Each gun is made perfect and modified to murder/protect, at your discretion, aim at the chest, face or the neck. Guns are man-made tools used when life is undone, yet I’m wondering if I’m not a gun?
I never asked to be a weapon,
so I don’t understand
Seventy-six inches of bone, carbon and tissues, born with issues, mis-loved, mis-handled, rubbed the wrong way and mis-used. Abused within my sternum/my trigger, I pop at the slightest insult, like elderly knuckles with arthritis. My verbal assault is hot lead spinning at high velocity. Gross emotional wounds I inflict, my atrocities, my paranoia make me empty rounds in all those close to me. I’m so confused, man or object, which am I supposed to be?
I don’t need clips. I unload when I’m hurt or pissed. Murky thoughts can seldom stop the anti-mirth that I spit. A blast from a nine millimeter cannot be undone, that and steel are the differences between me and a gun.
The differences are few, the similarities are great, both can tear a man to shreds, both are inspired by hate.
I walk around with one in the chamber, no safety, cocked back, look at me the wrong way, I go crazy. Innocent bystanders get shot all the time, because the bullets leave my mouth before thought hits my mind. With smoke drifting from my barrel/my spine, I know I’m guilty. The courts parade me, read my priors to the jurors to show that I’m filthy.
Imagine myself invisible, but my own slugs shoot me to the company of murderous thugs. Misbehave and become a slave to cell blocks and graves, chasing flashing lights, gold and ice, Air Maxers and Jay’s (tennis shoes).
In a daze, I give my chamber a spin, it’s Russian Roulette, apply pressure on the trigger, hear a “clack” then a “click.” No hollow tips for breakfast this morning, I yawn a shell casing, still hot. Sulfurous in my throat, bitter, hell tasting.
Sometimes I’m nickel plated, other times gun metal grey, right now, I’m coal black, glistening in the light of day!
My power is tempting, but please approach me passively. Try to be aggressive and you might end up a casualty. Tragedy surrounds me, I become the casket too, angry at my father. Look what he put Momma’s bastard through.
I was molded by the hands of God, not the hands of man. I never asked to be a weapon, so I don’t understand. Why they carved me a new number, then they sat me on the shelf. An attempt to save mankind from me or me from myself? The human gun….
My verbal assault is hot lead
spinning at high velocity.
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