Jason writes a long letter during lockdown

February 1, 2012

I had every intention of coming in and writing you a nice long letter, but it almost never works the way that we expect it to, does it?

I was working out earlier and I think I strained a muscle in my left shoulder.  I heard it.  So did the guy standing by me.  It sounded bad, but hopefully it just sounded bad.  Anyhow, it’s just a dull pain, but it’s very uncomfortable.  Could be worse.  I could have torn a rotator cup or whatever and I could be in excruciating pain.  Getting better and better at counting my blessings.

Not much going on this way.  I want to respond to you last two letters, but I’m going to make this letter short so I can ley my body rest.

I am writing though.  Been writing lyrics and writing the letters to my kids.  It’s amazing how good writing those letters has been for me.  And as I get more comfortable opening up to my kids, I find out more about myself.  It’s cool.

Learning a bunch in Spanish class too!  Things are pretty good.  Look for something longer than this soon.

Love,

February 8, 2012

Well, the long awaited and much anticipated lockdown has arrived!  I’m relieved, too.  I’d grown weary of people asking about, talking about, speculating…and I need the “me” time.

Yesterday and today, I mainly rested, worked out and got rid of a bunch of stuff.  With the hard part out of the way, I can attack my writing full force tomorrow morning while it’s still quiet.

Fortunately, it’s still pretty cool which makes for good lying in bed, bundled up and reading.  Unfortunately, it’s a little too chilly to do much else.  Ah, but one must count blessings.  I prefer the chill to the sweltering heat that the next lockdown will fall in.

Although I hate the title “convict,” I’ve stored up plenty of provisions, and should glide through the next couple of weeks without a problem.  Too many people will be in a sad state in the next few days.  My celly is one of those people.  He went to commissary and bought coffee, cherry Dr. Pepper and two soups.

Well yesterday, I cooked for us both, today, I gave him a soup but soon he’ll be on his own.  He made a choice and although it feels wrong, I see that there is a difference between kindness and foolishness.  Plus, he is a hateful young fella which doesn’t do much for my sympathies.  He has destroyed items before throwing them out of the cell so that no one else can use them.  Why?  If you’re throwing something away and someone else can possibly make use of it, great.  I don’t understand that type of evil logic.  Some people have to learn the hard way.  Humility is a lesson best taught by suffering.  It was a year and a half ago that I got caught without any food for a 27 day lockdown.  There were nights when I felt so weak I couldn’t sleep until breakfast came.  Then I can’t stomach the peanut butter that is in every sack, every meal.  It is an awful place, that’s a given, but once can do things to make it tolerable.  Only a fool would put himself in a position to have to wait on those miserable little wet brown bags to ease the hunger pains.  A fool I’m not.

Safe to figure you’re still very busy.  Busy is beautiful.  As you know, I stay pretty busy in here, but I long for the day that I can be busy out there.

Recipes dance through my head, visions of my determined fare, smiling over a grill full of shrimp.  And it’s not the fare that I seek.  Not at all.  I want to put the work in, gain the experience, perfect my craft, become a master chef without all of the pomp and fan fair.  Instead of guest appearances on talk shows, I want to cook for kids’ sweet sixteen’s or marriages, or graduations, any happy occasion.  I want to make food that people stare at before eating, not wanting to spoil its beauty, yet anxious to taste its bounty.

My boss actually came up with an idea about my restaurant.  She said I should call it “The First Resort” and offer a healthy savory menu, then one page of high calorie indulgences.  Sounds great!  What moved me though, is that she believes in me enough to be at home thinking about my future.  That’s the big thing.  People see that I have a future.  That is beautiful!

She said she’s reading my gook, got 70 pages into it and forced herself to put it down, mainly because she was so angry.  I guess for someone who never knew the old me, being around the new me, it’s frustrating to see all that I’ve endured, to relive the hell that I created for myself.

And people are really beginning to ask about the book.  Let’s hope that they are buying it.  I’m giving away the info enough.  One guy said that his mom told him that she contacted BookCrafters and “they” said they didn’t have that book.  I told him that was a lie before I realized what I was saying. (Jason’s book Prison Life InsideOut can be purchased through www.bookcrafters.net or other online bookstores.)

My boss is purchasing another copy for the library.  Let’s also hope that it brings in more interest.

I’ve compiled all of Joe’s blogs and put them all together for some of the other Wilbur Smith fans.  I know that they’ll enjoy his story as much as I do.

Speaking of Wilbur Smith, I plan to read Birds of Prey and A Sparrow Falls, not in that order.  Right now, I’m half way through R. A. Salvatore’s Icewindale Trilogy.  Drizzt, the dark elf, has won me over.  He reminds me of myself, trapped in a world that I despise, different from everybody, seeking the freedom of the surface, seeking through the lies.  I also have the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  Gonna try to knock it out, but it started out slow and I put it down.

Relativity is so powerful.  I think that’s the key to reaching people, the ability to relate.  Others who have a purpose, who know that this place is not where they belong tend to gravitate towards me, as if seeking a leader, a spokesperson, someone to lead the charge.  It’s crazy.

Well, gonna write some to the kids, then snuggle up with my book.  As always, I send you all of my love!

Love,

 

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.

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.