Jason's book Prison Life InsideOUT is now available at http://bookcrafters.net. It is also available as an ebook on amazon.com.
March 29, 2011 9:51 p.m.
Yup, another long un.
Today seemed to drag on FOR-E-V-E-R! But it’s finally drawing to a close. I’m tired too. Still not feeling so hot, worried that I may have some virus and my immune system is fighting it back and making it seem less than it really is. It’s more of an irritation than anything.
I’ll be glad to get this exam out of the way tomorrow so I can put more into the completion and rewrite of this book. As you can most definitely tell, it’s heavy on my heart and mind. Anxious, anxious, anxious!
Tomorrow morning is my library appointment. Instead of reading someone else’s novel, I’m going to check out The Writer’s Market, if they have it, or maybe that’s not what I need. But something on strengths and formats, you know. I don’t so much care about the market itself. I just want to produce great work.
Today while reading, I realized a mistake I’ve been making with my dialogue and correcting it is going to add several pages to what I already have.
I am looking forward to rewriting the material because I want to get it to you so you can share my excitement. BUT, I’m not looking forward to rewriting the material because it means I have to rewrite it. Frown now, smile later!
We went to commissary…well, I went to commissary today. Those people were out of so much stuff, it’s amazing. I didn’t get $30 worth of stuff that I had on my list! Whoever orders and inventories doesn’t know what they’re doing. The commissary should never be out of that much stuff!
Anyhow, I got most of what I needed, which was a blessing. My uncle’s money had not hit yet, but hopefully it will. Still, I’m going to try to send those legal pads back by the end of the week. Unfortunately, I have to wait for them to call me down and sign the withdrawal slip from my account.
Contrary to what I expected, most people paid what they owed! I’d assumed that I’d get about 2/3s of it, so I’m cool. Going to be super busy though, doing cakes, writing, working out, studying. It’ll all come together.
Bought a couple of large envelopes so that I can send you those long blogs or whatever they are, that I wrote on lockdown. Probably send them and this letter off Thursday morning—give you a few days rest from me.
No, seriously, although I want to send you something every day, right now I have to be conservative with my postage. The rumor is that the Hispanics are about to do something. What? I don’t know, I just hope I’m nowhere around when it happens. Everybody is stocked up for the lockdown that’s sure to follow but no one knows what the lockdown is going to follow.
Part of me is beyond caring. If they want to kill each other, whatever. But part of me is sick of being punished for other people’s stupidity. Even though I’d get plenty work done on a lockdown. I enjoy the freedom of moving around, going to therapy, school, eating my vegetables…
We’ll see. All I can do is pray on it. My worries won’t change anything. If the warden wasn’t so busy walking around with his chest out, he’d see that he doesn’t have a clue, or any control of what’s going on in this unit.
Let him tell it, he’s on top of it all. He’s full of empty promises and hot air. He hasn’t kept one promise he made when he got here giving all his speeches about “being men.” What a joke. Men honor their word.
Night, night for me.
Blog – Just A Number
When will my pain be enough?
When will my suffering prove adequate?
When will my remorse me worthy?
How can a group of men and women, humans, determine how long it takes, how many years one must be confined, embarrassed, stripped of his dignity, snatched from his loved ones, abandoned by his family, forgotten by everyone before he’s learned his lesson?
It’s true, some never learn. Others learn immediately, others still, after a few years, enough loss, enough misery, they are humbled, into the realization that “I cannot do it on my own. I’m not Superman.”
Because that’s where most of us make our biggest mistake, believing that we can take on the world, solve all the problems, pay all the bills, feed all the kids, love all of these women…live forever.
Unfortunately, when you are trapped in a box of powered concrete and iron, blocks and bars everywhere you look, ignorance running rampant, hatred in the air like pollen, the underlying scent of decay, death and desperation ever present, it feels like you are stuck in forever, yet hardly alive.
You lose the god complex and find God. You fight physically until you realize that you can’t afford to expend the energy demanded by fisticuffs when you are engaged in a perpetual mental and spiritual slugfest. You humble yourself. You cease to lust for everything that you want, and strive to earn everything you need. You simplify your life, and in doing so come to the revelation that happiness is found not in material, but in mentality.
Sounds like I’ve got it all figured out, huh? But what do I know? I’m just a number.
Sincerely,
#1361892
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