Jason has a Dream Girl

September 18, 2011 11:52 pm

Short and sweet! Just wanted to let you know that you are on my mind! I’m about to go to sleep. Long day tomorrow, but I’ll try to squeeze in a better letter than this one.

Also, I wanted to give you the info that I was sent when I wrote about the phones. Texasprisonphones.com 866-806-7804 or 866-963-7912 which is info I’m sure you already have. Other than that, they told me nothing, and I’ve tried to register your number through the phone. As always, TDC doesn’t make anything simple. Stupid. I call and a recorded voice tells me that the number is not on my approved calling list???

Anyhow, I’m too tired to try to figure it out. Know that I love you and I’m staying out of trouble. 

Love.

P.S. Hope you enjoyed your trip! I received the books! Thank you so much. I’ll save them for the next lockdown and enjoy them then.

September 22, 2011 9:59 pm

I know, I know, I promised a long letter. And I’m still promising it. The past days have been a circus! Oh, I’m fine, but I never have a moment’s free time while I’m somewhere that I can write you. And by this time of night, I’m exhausted.

The good news is, I’m staying busy! Plus, after I take this test Monday, I’ll be able to relax some.

Just wanted to let you know that you’re on my mind.

Love,

P.S. Still trying with the phone.

 October 1, 2011

Hey there, sweet, kind lady! Well, I finally find a free moment, a week later! Drama and politics, but I’ve survived.

Yeah, it’s been one thing or another, and my boss has put a large portion of the workload on me because she knows it’ll get done. Between work, working out, my cakes, and college, I’ve been swamped! Not to mention running a fantasy football league. Whew! Talk about more than I bargained for.

It could be worse. Busy is good. Seems like I’m always waking up and starting all over.

I see you’ve been busy as well! And you enjoyed the vacation. The pictures were cool! I’ve always loved nature, spent time outdoors and what not, but took it for granted, as I got older. The pics you send often keep me appreciative of how wonderful nature is.

My boss should be emailing you about the donation of the books that you’d asked me about. I wanted to make sure that it’s done where the State of Texas can’t screw it up. The mailroom seems to have layed off of me. Maybe she’s found a new victim.

Wow, so much with the phone already! I wrote in submitting the correct information, but they have not responded yet. I try to call every day and get the same response. I hate this place every day! Yet, I stay positive. You are a large part of that.

Got another letter from my father. (Feels weird calling him that). Honestly, I was ready to write him and hurt him the way he has hurt me, although I could only inflict a minute percentage of the pain he’s caused me. Then while as Mass last week, I was praying and started laughing. I knew that I wouldn’t write that ugly letter.

That night, a letter from him came and he was more open and sincere. Really, my heart goes out to the guy. He’s trying, and I’m glad that I didn’t attempt to hurt him because I’d been hurt. The last thing that man needs is for someone to kick him in the face. He’s trying, so I’m going to try, too.

My uncle came last Sunday. It was cool, as usual. It’s good to escape this madness as much as possible. I’m so thankful that he makes time for me. He’s fine, tired, travel weary, but fine.

Yeah, all the drama at work was caused by the regional director walking in one day while my boss was gone and deciding he didn’t want us in the library unsupervised around all those dangerous books. Well, the Major hates us and pounced, trying to cut us from 7 workers to 3. Fortunately, my boss wouldn’t go for it. She stood up to them, and showed them (made them watch 3 of us try to handle a crowd of 60) that it cannot be done by 3 workers. I was one of the 3 and not in danger of losing my job, but the pressure was still there. Ever since we’ve had to be on our A game, and we got in nearly 200 new books to inventory, catalog, label, shelve, and circulate.

I thank you for your patience. It’s just been crazy, but it’s trying to ease up. One of my co-workers got fired for mouthing off to the Major, leaving us with six, but I’m on top of my responsibilities.

Next Monday, there is no school, so I get a small break. I’ll still have to study, but with less pressure. I made an 80 on my first exam. That’s the lowest score I can ever remember. So I’ll have to ace the rest of my tests to keep my 4.0. Don’t fret, now I know what to expect. He threw a bunch of trick questions at us. Next time I’ll be prepared.

The blogs are coming. They’re in my head brewing. Probably this week they’ll find paper. I’ve got so much on my mind that I need to spill. The ones I’d started writing before…I lost two and went back to read two more and didn’t like them. Too angry.

Well, I’m going on and on. Of course you know that you’re in my thoughts and heart.

Love,

P.S. Have you seen that commercial for “Google Chrome”? Wow! Cool commercial, cooler program! I miss my kids. Did I tell you that the court dropped the case (child support) because my mom showed and Khristen didn’t? Yup.  After all that.

 

Blog - Dream Girl

My thoughts … whew.  My thoughts are never ending, a constant stream of everything imaginable ranging from concerns that I inhale all of those millions of dust motes and particles that I see so clearly floating in a ray of sunshine, to the gender of my creator, to what type of creature I was in my former life, to what my kids are thinking at this moment.  Anything and everything, non-stop, awake and asleep.

However, every night that I close my eyes to fall asleep, I see a beautiful woman in my bed.  Nooo, not this midget cost that I sleep on in this walk-in closet that I live in.  I mean, in my bed out there.

It’s a big bed, perhaps a king or queen size.  The sheets are not crisp and new with packaged creased in them, rather they are clean, worn just enough to be soft and inviting.  She is lying on her side with her back to me and although I can almost feel her lying on my arm, I can see her from behind and from above, also viewing myself.

We appear to be asleep, completely comfortable, uncovered.  She is wearing one of my T-shirts and I am wearing a pair of shorts.  She is never anyone that I know or recognize and she is always different.  Sometimes she is fair with brown hair, other times, more tanned with blond hair.  Often she is a tropical brown with straight raven hair, and sometimes she is any shade of caramel brown to ink black, but always beautiful.

That I do not recognize her does not bother me because I realize that we have not met yet.  But she is not just some woman lying in my bed.  She is the woman of my bed of life.  And I am beyond content.  I am happy.  This is how sleep finds me every single night.

Why am I never alone?  Even when I try to picture myself in that bed alone, she always pops up and I smile to myself.  Does this mean that I can’t be happy alone, or unless there is a gorgeous woman in my bed?  I think that unlikely.  But it does mean something.

Does maybe the fact that she is least often a black woman have something to do with my issues with the emotional abuse I’ve suffered in my dealings with black females?  Does the fact that even when she is plus sized, she is always in good physical shape a result of fantasy or due to my healthy lifestyle?  Does the fact that she is wearing one of my shirts mean some sort of sub-conscious statement of ownership?

Who knows?  Who cares?  I guess I do, but only for the moment.  I know that she brings me peace, puts a smile on my face and puts me right to sleep.  Even better, one day I’ll be able to thank her for helping me rest on so many countless nights and she’ll look at me like I’m crazy, probably even call me corny when I tell her that she’s the girl of my dreams.

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.