Life with a celly is so unpleasant

July 13, 2011   HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  10:25 PM

Dear Birthday Girl!

Well, I hope and pray that you had a great one! You see, I know the birthday of someone I love was coming up but I wasn’t sure so I asked for the calendar. At least you know that my heart is in the right place.  I’m sure you did something fun and pleasing.

Seems like time is flying by so fast.  No, not the day to day, but the overall.  Once the summer is past, only the festive months remain in the year.

Life on your end sounds as if it’s keeping you busy and weary, which is good.  Nobody cares about your hard earned money like you do.

The kids had a blast, so that’s a plus. It always moves me to read about how active your grandkids are, although it pains me some because I miss my own so much.

More of the same this way.  HEAT!  Intense, stupid, hateful heat.  It was so hot today that a guard came by checking to make sure everyone had a fan. I guess they’ll provide one for those without fans.

And while I‘ve tried to deal with my celly and we’ve had our moments where it seemed like it could work, he is still a moron and if I had to live with him too much longer, I would end up beating the hell out of him. Yes, I know it sounds violent and harsh, but hear me out.

I told you about the talk we had. He made a bunch of promises and quoted scripture and all that. Then when I came back from visit, he’s pacing the cell, cursing like a sailor. Yeah, the “lying bitch” who was working the cellblock had taken his ID card because he was masturbating on her while she swept up in front of our cell. Wait. She is only the fourth woman in the past two weeks to tell this “lie” on him. According to her, he was sitting at the foot of his bed, right at the bars, waist eye level, “naked, stroking an erection.” Now, this is common behavior in this place, just like it’s common that he keeps denying it. What is not common is that he keeps slipping out of the cases. Perhaps he has some dark angel on his side? The point is, he’s a sexual predator. Every night, I wake up to some female telling him to stop or asking for his ID. And every time, he swears he wasn’t doing anything. He even told me that he has jock itch and he scratches, and that’s what the problem is. This is because I was born yesterday.

Last night, I woke up to pee and I see his foot hanging off of the top bunk and out of the bars. I can hear him moaning and 75% of me wants to hop up, snatch him out of the bunk and kick his testicles into his lungs. 25% of me knows that I’ll regret it when I get charged with assault. And I know that we are men and we are on lockdown, allowed no privacy or alone time, but there is such a thing as self-control. This pervert has none.

The cell is only six feet wide and maybe ten feet deep. It’s not a lot of space for two people, especially when one is stupid and has no respect for personal space. He insists on being arms length from me where I could easily shatter his jaw. I’m in my bed, he’s a few feet away sitting on the toilet. I’m at the desk, he’s pacing behind me, talking about stuff that I don’t care about in the least. And when he’s in his bed, he’s got his nasty little feet hanging down, constantly swinging, feet away from my face. You’re right, I could tell him about all the things he does wrong, but then I would never stop talking to him and he’s grown. Some stuff is just common sense. I made him wipe dried coffee off of the wall this morning and peanut butter off of the floor. I told him that he uses tissue like a woman and he laughed. It’s like living with a seven year old! This morning, he jumped on my leg, didn’t say excuse me and when I got up and said “have you lost your mother fxxxxxx mind!” he was on his hands and knees grinning like a fool, crawling under my bunk. “I’m tryna catch this salamander!” I almost slapped him but was distracted that he’d mistaken a skink or newt or lizard for a salamander which has gills. Idiot. He spent 30 minutes taping a piece of plastic with duct tape that is illegal, an hour fishing other people’s contraband trash off of the run, found a piece of rusted brillo that had been someone scouring pad for their toilet and he scrubbed his cup and bowl with it. He begged our neighbor for three soups and a sleeve of crackers then ate it all at once. That was three meals.

I’m sorry Jan. The man is a moron and I’m afraid I’m going to find him lusting on some of my family pictures, or lord forbid, my kids, and I’m going to pop his spinal cord like a potato chip. No, I am not perfect, but I am not a burden to my cellies. He’s too much.

So, that’s where I am, maintaining, glad he’s asleep and I have peace. I’m praying and thinking positive thoughts. I won’t disappoint you, but that doesn’t mean that I’m enjoying it.

Just wanted to vent a little. Thank you! And to wish you a very happy birthday, although belated.

Love,  

Blog - Words

I write, writing from my soul, the pen an extension of my thoughts, my thoughts a collection of ideals, flashing like a strobe, laser quick, pulsing, keeping me from sleep, flitting through my dreams like thousands of butterflies swarming in a nectar saturated frenzy.  The words lance the pages as fast as my pen can scratch them out, barely legible, indecipherable as hieroglyphics, yet holding profound truths… my truths, those which may be unwanted or unaccepted but never undone.

The son of mere mortals, yet my words live forever and with each expression my vision grows clearer.  So now I view the world from the third person, almost out of body, observing as a participant, experience wearing the guise of clairvoyance.  I can see what happens before it occurs, and deflate tons of pressure with gestures and words.  My gift and my curse.  Heartbreaks, peace maker, manipulation through articulation… I can heal, reveal or cause devastation.  In a world wrought of words, I am Almighty Jason.

Through devout contemplation, concentrating on more, I draw wings of words, find a current and soar.  With words to explore, I’m enraptured and captured, free with my hopes and a slave to my passions.  Actions born of intentions, dimensions unraveled, lying prone in a cell while my heart and mind travel.  No gavel, or jury or judge or indictments, instead children giggle sincere love in my likeness.

Escape … because fate is the first fruit of seeds planted, so I harvest my seeds in the joys of the planet.  I’ve been granted a gift which I share with the willing, converting those lost to fond and fulfilling.  My feelings are cherished, embarrassment?  Nay, the truth’s in my doctrine, righteous like when I pray.  Not near perfect, but fighting, a knight with his sword, with my friend, my dear pen…and my words.

Lockdown again

June 28, 2011

Yes, it did indeed get better! Had to tell the poor chap that it is very important that he give me my time alone. He’s kinda scared of me now, but I can’t help that, just as long as he stays out of my way. Paint me crazy because I don't want to be constantly surrounded by men.

Then, my uncle came Sunday morning, so that was a pleasant surprise! It was warm but breezy outside and as always, we got along great. My mom is supposed to come this weekend.

Had to write a grievance to get the mailroom to tell me that it’s going to cost $5.10 for me to mail the book 70 yards. Crazy! I’m pretty sure that they are scamming on the stamps, but I can‘t prove it.

Well, there’s more to write, and more to respond to, but I’m running right now. Still, you know where my heart is.

Love,

July 10, 2011 8:53 pm

Man, I’ve been thinking about you so much here recently and finally sat down to send you a few lines. Believe me, I’ve been wanting to write, but it’s been so stick-miserable hot, I’ve dreaded sitting up, sticking to every surface writing, but here I am.

Thank you for keeping the letters coming! You know you keep my spirits lifted and I’ve grown to depend on your love.

So much has taken place since I last wrote! It’s like I live in a bad reality T.V. program. Of course, we are on lockdown. AGAIN. Yeah, I know, it’s like every fifth letter is a notification of lockdown. With each day that passes, I despise this clown “running the show” more. And the bastard still has not replaced my property despite his promises. In my opinion, a man isn’t a man if he doesn’t keep his word.

The lockdowns don’t bother me as much as the person behind them, but even the officers are growing weary of his oppressive rule. They don’t want to be bothered with shaking us down and are giving a real halfhearted effort, which is good, makes it easier on us. The heat doesn’t help. I bathe so many times a day, I might as well just sit in a puddle of soapy water.

Loving the job, hating the time away from it though.

Had to have a heart to heart with my celly, made him quit smoking and acting like such a moron. He’s really not a bad dude, just needs guidance. Shame that I keep having to provide guidance to men nearly a decade my senior, but somethings can’t be helped.

My uncle came today! The frequent visits are great, but I know once the NFL lockout is over, he’ll be running with the Cowboys again. It’s cool. I’m grateful just to have him in my life, in any capacity.

Now that he knows he can send photos, he sent me nearly sixty pictures. Mainly of South Beach (where he was following the Mavs during the NBA finals), San Francisco, where he was with the Rangers in the World Series, from the NBA All-star weekend, and of the Dallas Cowboys traveling and practicing. I got a few really cool pictures of D. Wade from the Miami Heat speaking to Rev. Jesse Jackson, Dwight Howard of the Orlando Magic, Kobe Bryant, Shaq, T.O., Ocho Cinco and some others, plus some really good family pictures. His photography of nature, like Joe’s, is awe-inspiring.

He thinks a cookbook is a good idea. I’ve already come up with 47 recipes, not including sweets. I love a challenge.

I see a few people are buying the book. That’s cool. It’s slow but better late than never. My cousin bought a few copies, as did my aunt for some HCC campuses in Katy and Spring Branch. I can never repay you for where you’ve brought me mentally and emotionally!

A very revealing letter came from my mom. I guess you were right. I’ll do my best to reassure her that I’ve never stopped loving her and I never will. We’ll work through it. She and my brother should be here this weekend, but I won’t hold my breath. I do hope that they come, but that’s all I can do is hope.

Being as how it’s lockdown, I began reading The Sound of Thunder (Wilbur Smith) and couldn’t put it down! I didn’t know it was the sequel to When the Lion Feeds. Excellent books. And I see that there are several more. I will make it my mission to read them all!

It was so honest and relative. That’s what I love in a book, the power to make me relate. Although I’ve never been to Africa, mined gold, or hunted elephant, I understood the ups and downs and internal struggles of the characters. A masterful storyteller!  Kopje, Donga and Mehneer are words I didn't understand. Ask Joe if he’d be kind enough to translate again? Please. I mean, I used context clues, but I want it from a pro.

I miss my blogs, too. I truly enjoy them and the adventures within. The Spider Story and A Car Full of Monkeys are my favorites (intoafrica2012.blogspot.com). Or should I say “favourites”?  Don’t fret about the blogs. I know I’ve been inactive on them, but there are at least three darn good ones recorded in my head. I’m just waiting for a nice rainy day so I can comfortably scribble away.

My uncle was able to send 24 legal pads without static from the gates of hell (mailroom), so that’s a blessing. It’s going to cost me $5.10 to mail the book, so I’m just waiting to go back to the commissary whenever we come up.

Well, I hope that catches you up. My sheets are damp under my body and I can’t stand it. Sorry. Still, I love you dearly and will be thinking of you. And writing.

Love,

P.S.  I need a calendar of birthdays so that I don’t forget.

If you have time, I know you are very happily busy, could you see if you can find any workouts that are Maximum Intervals but require no weights or bands? Something that I can do in my cell and burn a lot of calories? There is one called Insanity, but it’s only on DVD as far as I know. Thanks. Trying to get stronger. My workout doesn’t challenge me anymore.

  

Blog - The Running Man

All last night, I ran.

Didn’t sweat much, but I definitely ran, chased by one nightmare, then another.  No, not nightmares with mutant clowns or blood thirsty psychotic panda bears.  Real nightmares, the ones that seem so real that you awake still feeling the pressure, disoriented, then relieved.

The scariest part of it all is I realized that I was just confronting my own demons.  And no matter how many times I woke up during the night, looked at the clock and dozed back off, I still drifted into yet another set of events that were impossible and heartbreaking.  The ones about being stuck in prison forever are always bad, although too close to my reality.  Plus, I hate spending sleep time, valuable time that I could be free, dreaming about prison.  But I can manage those dreams.

It was the first nightmare that set the tone for the night and left me upset even after I woke.  My ex-wife, who has proved herself evil in every possible way, was the monster. I was free, and the woman refused to let me or any of my family have any contact with my children, even going so far as to continually move, relocating so that I could never track down my babies, but sending hateful, taunting emails that shattered my mother, wilted my aunts and broke me down so thoroughly that I felt a hatred so pure and raw that I had trouble praying clearly this morning.

Yet I prayed.  I gave it all away in exchange for a new day, devoid of human monsters and impossible circumstances.  Oh, I’m surrounded by the worst people and awful situation, but in reality, I can navigate through dark around evil.  In my dreams, I’m still at the whim of my subconscious.

The beauty of it all is that I can so easily rid myself of ill outlooks, ill attitudes, foul emotions, like shrugging off a filthy coat, letting it fall to the floor and walking away from it.

Sometimes we stay cocooned in the darkness for so long that it hardens, becomes a shell, cutting off our light, trapping us within our own chaos.  It’s harder to break out of that shell, but it can be done.  Anything can be done, if you believe.

Am I some sort of holy roller?  No, but I believe.  I don’t even call myself a Christian.  A title or label is not necessary for me.  Who am I trying to convince?  I have a relationship with God, it is what it is.  No lightshows, no fancy or heavily worded proclamations.  I can’t recall seeing His face, but I see His hand all of the time, reaching down to help me up, to stay me, to steady me, to push me forward.  His touch has become familiar, causing me to glance to the heavens with a knowing smile.

At my most destructive point in life, I embraced the saying, “Hated by many, loved by few.”  Though, in hindsight, I can only remember one person who hated me.  Me.  Now, having learned to love myself, it’s more like “Loved by many, and I love them, too.  No room in my heart for hate.”  Honestly, I can’t think of one person that hates me, and I don’t hate anyone, not even my ex-wife.  Oh, I dislike several people, disgusted by some, but only because I see the evil that they do and spread amongst others, infecting the good with malice and doubt.  Misery loved companionship, hence the state of the world.

Some of the people dearest to me are not big on God.  Fortunately, God is big on them, people so blessed and special that the Devine is clearly visible in them.  How funny that God doesn’t even abandon those who have abandoned Him!  And He continues to work through them.

Sure, times have been hard, (mostly my doing), and I’ve doubted as I’m sure many have.  A spark of faith is all it takes to kindle the flames of hope.  Hope is worth chasing.

So when I’m not running from myself, I’m running towards what my potential may earn.

Why race myself when I can pace myself.  Tonight, I'll run again, but on my terms.  I’ll run towards my goals.

It's not easy having a celly

June 20, 2011 2:36 a.m.

Hello! Sorry, I meant to write earlier but I was so tired that I lay down around 7:30 p.m. Yeah, heat on top of the long hours on my feet at work. But it’s pleasant to be working, and in the A/C most of the day.  Once I get used to the schedule, I’ll be fine.

Glad to hear from you today!  I finally got moved again, so I’m not in the cell with that particular idiot, though I’m sure they’ll give me something equally distasteful in the next few days. At the moment, I’m by myself, which you know, is ideal for me.

Up early so I can pick up my hypertension meds and I have a lay-in for some blood work at 4 a.m. Yeah, horrible time, but I’ve skipped it twice now so…just makes for a long day.  I’ll maintain.

Got a visit from my uncle this Saturday.  Always a pleasure. You guys really restored my faith in good people!  He’s so busy all the time, I almost feel guilty for the time he takes for me. And you have kept pretty busy as well!  That’s good, because you seem overjoyed when busy, which is cool.

If I failed to thank you and Joe for the spider stuff, allow me to thank you.  And thank you for all that you do!  That was indeed useful info, and what I had was cellar spiders.  Of course, I had to leave them behind in my old cell.  Right now though, my time for pets is limited.  I barely have time for myself.

Cool card you sent!  I think it might have riled the Warden’s feathers a bit, but he’ll be okay. Hasn’t said anything to me about it.  I really don’t care how he feels.  He still hasn’t replaced my property yet, so we’ll see.

I do intend to do some writing here in the coming days.  Right now I have no down time at work due to putting book jacket flaps in the back of the books and cataloging the 102 new books we just received.  And my free time is “zero” until I get in a groove, but bear with me.

Unfortunately, I’m sitting in the infirmary and away from your letters, but I’ll make it a point to go back and respond.  The living conditions are much better where I am now than where I was, so that’s another plus. I don’t mind accepting my blessing in doses.

Well, I hope I’ve eased your mind.  I know that you worry about me, Mom.

Love.

P.S. Sure I’m forgetting something, but you know where my head and my heart are.

June 25, 2011 3:09 p.m.

Well, my joy was short lived.  Yeah, I know.  Imagine how I feel.  You know, I try to be optimistic.  I really do, but… I hold so much inside.  It seems like I’m the only one with any understanding, with any consideration, and it’s frustrating.

Again, they’ve put an idiot in the cell with me.  I wish I could just stay at work.  Really.  You try to be nice to people, and I know this dude has enough snap to know what he’s doing…makes me want to beat the hell out of him.  I’m sorry, it’s true.  Maybe that’s all some people understand.  I won’t, but it would make me feel better.  I’ve been in the hot dayroom all morning until just minutes ago.  That’s half of the day.  Yet, I come to the cell and it looks like a Chinese Laundromat.  My clothesline is hanging full of his wet and still dirty clothes.  It’s against the rules to have a clothesline up before six p.m.  Everyone knows that.  Then he’s sitting in here on the toilet in his boxers, writing a 60-page letter.  More so because I’ve given him all day to himself, and I’d like to have some time to myself, too.  As of now, I’d have to ask him to move so I can pee, or workout, and I’m not into asking permission, especially in my cell.  Of course, I could tell him to get his stupid ass out of my way before I beat him half to death, but that would get me sent to lock up.

I told him he can use my radio, so I don’t mind him wearing my headphones, at least he’s not talking to me.  He never shuts the hell up.  The point is, it isn’t going to work.  I can’t stand to have someone on top of me all the time.  And he’s a “cluck.”  A “crash dummy.”  He can’t think.  Stupid people infuriate me.  He comes in saying that he’s a “Christian.”  But he chain smokes, justifying it with “we all have fault.”  Well, when you choose to smoke your food, it’s your fault that I won’t feed you.

Jan, I know it sounds like I’m ranting, but a man needs time to himself in this place or you’ll go crazy.  A man needs to be alone with his thoughts, be able to use the bathroom, workout, bathe, write, work, whatever, in peace, without somebody constantly two feet away from you, especially someone you have nothing in common with.  Part of me wants to tell him “get the fxxx out of here and don’t come back until rack time,” but I don’t want people scared of me anymore.  I just want to be left alone.  In here, it’s a common courtesy to give your celly alone time, that’s understood. Yet, I work ten hours a day, leaving him about five hours to himself and he still insists on being in here right on top of me. Can’t win for losing.

I’m frustrated and pissed right now.  Maybe, hopefully I’ll feel better later.