Let's go back to the paper Mache′ Olympics. I have only been in two solitary confinement rooms to date, so my frame of reference is honestly limited. If these two cells are typical, it might be cheaper and certainly safer (when heat comes in the winter months) to exterminate instead of empowering the inmates to individualize and to protect their cells from nocturnal rodents with hardened toilet paper.
I'm going to submit my request form now that the stand-up head count is over. By the way, counts in prisons for obvious reasons, are conducted three, four and sometimes up to six times a day. I think the count is for the prisoners, but it could be mental stimulation for the professionals who work here. After dark, although secured by at least six electronically locked doors, they frequently turn on the cell lights to make sure you haven't decided to check-out in the middle of the night. Unless they have counted the rolls of toilet paper and believe that they can be weaved into an escape rope from nine stories up, where could an inmate go?
Yet, who am I to question the procedures of a tip-top organization devoid of any administrative lapses or complaints? I am going to submit the forms. I'll report as the events unfold. Why do I think there is a future story coming?
To ensure a story or a response of appropriate merit, I requested a non-gay straight barber nail appointment and toilet paper preferably white to go with my decor. Let's see the response. My form has been sticking out of the door for a few hours. As soon as someone takes it and responds, I'll share it with you. They intently watch over us here.
By the way, during these painfully long challenges that I am enduring, I wanted to thank you for being there. Without you, I would have been in solitary with no one to speak to.
Eating is an unusual experience in solitary. Much time and thought are consumed wondering, imagining, and even planning about meals. Yet, when it arrives, first you have an approximate time of day reference and coupled with the conciseness of the meal (dare I say, small) … it's over in minutes. Ten or fifteen white spoonsful and a drink of water from the milk container and the meal is over.
Prior to returning to my newest vampire mystery book, I was asked today by my attorneys about the law library availability to prisoners in order to prepare themselves against the governmental prosecuting attorneys.
The law library is a 10' x 12' cage with about fifty old legal books with a sign that reads: please stop ripping out pages. If you need Xerox copies contact Ms. Andrews to get on her "list". Fortunately, I missed that "list". The only two times I've been in there, I was handcuffed. One of the times was the seven step swan dive by my favorite counselor and her imaginary friend Al (you remember Mrs. Andrews, et.al.). I imagine that when the Warden contacts me (no phone list yet) to discuss the observations of a former Warden he will probably assign Ms. Andrews to effectuate change. Yesterday a very bright, serious and worried stock broker went into the law library to research from the one old computer that is also in the library. I was finishing my shower and waiting my normal hour to be removed and I observed the following dialogue:
"CO, how do I get on the computer?" "Oh, you have to have a password to get on it". "How do I get a password?" "I don't know but I'll put you on the "list". An inmate has a limit of only one hour in the library, unless the guards like the inmate.
As I walked by, his eyes met mine, and I told him to try Disney character passwords or Three Stooges names. They would be the most 'appropriate' ones. He laughed, and I hope I returned reality to him, if only for a moment.
I'm sure that I mentioned it previously, but one of the reasons I have been placed in solitary confinement is because of another Federal rule. I am therefore placed in solitary for my own protection, because I had previously been a warden in a State penitentiary. As long as I stay in this institution, solitary confinement is my only placement. I can also never go to the general population due to my non-criminal status. Only convicted criminals can be housed in the general population. Does anyone else see the flaws in this bogus incarceration for purported civil contempt? No electronic bracelet for someone telling us the SEC is broken – just throw him into solitary.
After receiving the booklet on "how to handle sexual-prison attacks", I must confess, solitary at least meant I sleep without fear.
Six CO's have walked by my note sticking out of the door and I guess it will be picked up before bedtime. I still wait for a phone call. I'm sure the Warden won't let me down. I know my wife is told every day by the prison telephone operator that inmates can call home every day. The operator said, "I guess your husband just doesn't want to call". How helpful that dialogue is to assuage concerns for those family members awaiting contact!
It's bedtime and my request for white toilet paper (obviously it's all they have) and a hair appointment have not yet been picked up to get me on the "list". In addition, I guess the Warden will be visiting me with a phone shortly before bedtime (Why shouldn't I believe that?). Well, so much for Warden professional courtesy.
The inmates seem especially aggressive tonight. There is a great deal of yelling, complaining, banging and arguing. The energy is a sad energy, so tonight I'll read and play some Bridge solitaire and my made-up Scrabble type game with pieces of paper. I'll play until the Warden comes. I'm sure he will respond to such a polite, professional and pragmatic note given after I exhausted his entire chain of command. I am sure that since no crime has been committed, his response would be the same as he would expect if the circumstances were reversed.
But, one of the inmates has been banging against the door for hours screaming for a phone. I think it’s being delivered to him as I write. Move over, Alice; is there room in that Wonderland hole for me? Do I have to become a fully irrational prisoner first before a phone is given to me?
Good news, I have learned of another sixty billion dollar high-technological solution to the toilet paper delivery problem. I was told, and I kid you not, "when you want toilet paper just put the inside cardboard center on your outside door knob". An intelligent retort to that is, “how do I get outside to do that"? I realize I have to be taken out of the cell in handcuffs with the cardboard center in my mouth to then try to put it on the door handle. Oh, yes, that's much better than asking. I'm sure this solution came about in a management meeting after the Warden discussed my phone deprivation. As long as I can put toilet paper centers in my mouth, I can avoid the toilet paper "list". Don't worry, the next time I'm going to do it their way and I'll report to you. In case you are wondering about my request, to have a sense of humor, intelligence must precede it. The toilet paper delivery CO said "White is the only fucking color we have". (He missed my attempt at humor) With a heavy heart and my eyes awaiting the Warden, I enter my third week in MMC.
Chapter 9 – Read Between the Lines
I guess the Warden or one of the staff members that diligently wrote down my phone issue is probably planning some sort of celebration or surprise for me. I must admit I have been "eyeing" the center cardboard of the toilet paper. How anxious I am to be able to work within the system the next time I need that roll. I keep reading and re-reading the orientation manual, and I find nothing about how to get out of your cell to put the cardboard center on the door handle. This could begin to better explain "making rounds". Those cardboard centers are "round". Maybe there is a higher level of intelligence and professionalism than I have been able to understand. If we could connect them with the strands of clothing that the other inmates use, could we possibly make kindergarten-type telephones with the string? I may have broken the communication code in this place. Maybe by walking around with toilet paper centers in my mouth while I am unnecessarily handcuffed, I can yell loud and demand more. Maybe that's what the others have been using? Had I had one in my mouth, would the Warden have respected my request? Does it have other uses that I foolishly may have ignored? What about this system for socks? If I put one sock on the handle, will I get the other? If I put the ripped pages of a borrowed book, will another arrive? My free-floating creative mind feels I may have broken the prison code here.
If I put the "center" of the toilet paper roll on the front of my jump suit,