May 16, 2001 10:07 p.m.
Oh, Prison Life indeed! How are you? Good, I hope. I was avoiding writing you because I didn’t want to infect you with my funky mood. But I couldn’t continue to not write you, so here I am.
So much nothing has happened. Can’t lie, I was disappointed to learn that the book is not selling, because you did so much work, and it makes me feel lonely, like a failure. I thought for sure that my family would have bought copies at least. That’s so very discouraging and I don’t want you guys to feel like you’ve wasted time and resources.
More bad news, I’ve not received the books. The mailroom has been on some stupid stuff lately about invoices, so I don’t know what’s going on. I think if you report them to the main office they’ll leave us alone. They denied another guy’s paper for the same reason, but that’s bull, nothing is shipped from those stores without an invoice, you know?
And they get away with so much because people don’t listen. This is probably one of the most corrupt industries in our country. Oh, this guy will probably write, please don’t think that I just go around handing out your address, but people ask about me and the book, and you, and the back-story, and everyone has a story. I try to be discerning…but this guy’s tales of mistreatment are unreal, and I don’t see him enough to have relayed the story. He’s probably going to die in here from malpractice, so he’s no threat, but I figured you’d want to at least hear his story.
More Bad, we went on lockdown this morning for only God and Warden Scott know how long! They found a knife over here last week. Came back today with the professional search squad and found like 13 more, one that looked like a sword! So we are locked down. I knew it was coming, but I thought I’d have moved by now. Just my luck, I’ll miss out on the library job because I’m on lockdown.
The good news is, I’ve got a little food stored up and I’ll have plenty of time to write.
Sleepy now, much more to say but it’s been a long, stupid, day! Sat in the gym for hours in my boxers being cursed out and freezing. Then I come back (9am to 5pm) to find my mat gone along with my sheets and blanket. My leg hurts, I missed my doctor’s appointment…Tomorrow has to be better! And worst of all, I don’t have, want, or need a knife. I’m tired of paying coward’s debts.
Love,
P.S. Oh yeah, college started today. I missed that. But my uncle asked about the book. Still haven’t received my property.
May 22, 2011 8:59 p.m.
One of those days! Naw, nothing fouler than the norm, but it’s been a doozie.
Finally drug out of bed at noon and made myself workout, but I haven’t done much else besides lay around. Crazy too, because I made a “to do” list and kinda just loafed around. I was supposed to write you, (I’m on that now), edit those blogs, write more of the book out and write more of the short story I’m working on. I did write more of the short story, but I do better at writing horror late at night when it’s quiet and my imagination can be delightfully wicked.
That’s what happened last night. I was writing and I kept seeing a jeep full of teenagers cut off an old Ford on a country road. I couldn’t shake the image, so I started writing. It’s coming along. That’s how most of my short stories develop, I see the characters and they won’t let me rest. Crystal, Rochelle, Chris, and Brennan kept me up until almost four in the morning, but I got a lot of very good writing done. Plus, when I get back to the book, it’ll flow.
Good and bad news on that. Good news: I came up with the remainder of the book and wrote it out (summarized). Bad news: it’s going to take a lot of writing. I’ve got 89 completed now, pre-edit. I’m guessing I’m looking at 300 plus pages. I’ve done it before, though, and I can’t cheat the story. I just can’t.
I keep stressing about stamps. I’ve got some, and I probably won’t need to write anyone else but you, but there’s no telling how long this stupid lockdown will last. They told us 30 days. Could be shorter, could be longer, depends on if they find any more knives. Hopefully they won’t and we’ll be up by the next Monday, but I can’t underestimate the stupidity of my fellow inmates. They are pretty damn stupid.
The humidity is likely a factor in my laziness. Friday and today it was super sticky and thick. I was so tired after working out! This stuff is like a blanket, draining your energy. Chilly at night, hot and muggy during the day. Ick!
My celly is all right. He’s not an idiot and that helps. He pretty much stays in his bunk so he’s out of my way. I’m four times more active that he is.
Right, I can only have “money” in my trust fund. No, no checks or paper money. We call commissary items “money.” Like if someone owes me $3.00, they might give me three strawberry sodas – 35 cents each ($1.05), an apple pie – 65 cents and five chili soups – 25 cents each. All together that's $2.95. You see? However, there is paper money in here, but it is illegal. Doesn’t matter if you get caught with $200.00 or $2.00 green money, you’re out of here.
Wait, let me back track. You were referring to the celly I had that owed money? Oh, him. No, sometimes dudes will have someone on the outside deposit money in another inmate’s account for one reason or another. In this instance, the dude who put money in my old celly’s account probably wanted to buy more than his allowed $85. So he put $60 in the other guys account with the intention of paying the guy $15 to buy him $45 worth of commissary. But my old celly only bought his $15 and didn’t pay the guy his $45.he left it in his account. That’s a no win situation though. It’s all against the rules.
When no one sends money, my account stays empty. The money I make from cakes is really how I survive since family is so off and on. The major drawback is that the cake income is mostly stuff I don’t use so I have to trade it out, which is a hassle. I pray for the day that I can support myself. I could do well on $50 a month along with my hustle, and live great for $100. I won’t give up hope though. If I can get my uncle to get me a subscription to Writer’s Digest I’m going to consider some of those contests. Entry fees, though. Soon.
Kats get drugs from guards mostly. Sometimes from people that come to visit, but mainly the guards bring it in. They get paid extreme amounts of money for it because it sells so high. Like when I left, from 5 to 7 ½ grams of regular weed cost $10. In here, 7 ½ grams will bring you $75 to $100.
Oh, thanks for the encouragement, but I’m pretty good about sticking to my guns. Getting high becomes less and less appealing. That chapter in my life is over. I had a lot of fun but I accomplished nothing. Now I have to work twice as hard. I won’t smoke my future.
Speaking of bugs, when there’s time, could you look up some information about daddy long legs (something with illustrations if possible). I want to know more about my pet and the related species. Is it a “true” spider?” Is it true that they are highly poisonous? Female and male characteristics?
Think I told you that I 4.0’d again last term. Unfortunately, this term is screwed already Psychology will have to wait, it seems. Stupid lockdown.
Well, better wrap it up. My next letter will be a long one. Till then, oodles of joyous thoughts of you!
Love,
P.S. Joe’s blogs are awesome.
Blog - Lord Knows
“Lord Knows.” More than just words in a Tupac song, the truth. The Lord does know, and if you think that he doesn’t…
For so long, too long, I thought that I could hide from God, sneak around Him, do things my way, and live my life the way I wanted to. But as I lost more and more, as my life fell into shambles around me, the realization became blindingly clear that without God I am truly a lost lamb wandering, blundering and stumbling into the devil’s traps and snares.
It’s funny because we sing songs about Santa Claus knowing about being naughty or nice, but we don’t mention that the Lord knows. Well, I know that He knows and it’s changed my life tremendously.
I can’t explain it, I’ll try though. It’s like, when you know you’re doing wrong, that feeling of guilt or shame that hovers over your head…yeah, I got more than enough of that and decided to change my ways. Period.
The streets welcomed me at the tender age of 11, and I didn’t run the streets, I sprinted through them. By the age of 17 I could pinpoint the headlights of any Crown Victoria, Caprice, 5.0, Camaro, and Impala through the rearview mirror. Any car that a law enforcement officer might drive, I knew it front and back, headlights to taillights, daylight or night time. And that was something I was pretty proud of, felt like I was one step in front of the law. Maybe I was. However, I wasn’t smarter than God. Lord knows.
There comes a point in life when you get tired of running, tired of looking in the rearview mirror, looking over your shoulder, or at least I did. I got tired of running from the law, running from my responsibilities, running from my potential, and running from God. Even after my incarceration, I continued to drink, smoke, steal from the kitchen, running from reality, running. Run long enough, you get tired. You can run yourself to death, collapse on the side of the road, or stop, get your bearings and begin to walk toward your goals, because you can’t outrun God. Lord knows.
My former cellmate was a complete loser, in every sense of the word. He was unclean, unkept, unmotivated, and uninspired. He lied for no good reason, refused to get up and go to work, or shower, always hopping up at the last minute, running around the cell in a collared shirt and boxer shorts (not cool anywhere, definitely not in prison) like a chicken with his head cut off. He’d gamble obsessively with money that didn’t exist on teams he didn’t know anything about. Then he’d talk about his “Christian brothers” and how he just strayed a “little” from his “walk.” He played dangerous games, and kept playing until his life was in danger then caught out (left under the protection of a Sargent) owing nearly $80 unpaid. I’m glad I didn’t have to live with him anymore, but it’s sad that he thinks he’s out run his problems, that he’s gotten away. He’s too foolish to realize that the Lord knows.
The Lord always knows, and knowing that he knows, I no longer carry the shame and guilt from doing wrong but instead, catch myself smiling up at the heavens as I recognize my blessings. It’s easier to do the right thing, so I do, and I glow, because I know that the Lord knows.
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