Before I eat today's surprising breakfast (it's the same), and while we are on politically connected friends who may benefit from the prison system not being changed; one of the inmates said in dialogue, which even this skeptical pen has difficulty absorbing, that Ms. Bush's family are directly connected to prison food delivery or food manufacturing. I just hope it's not the mystery meat! That would be a National scandal! Once Americans tasted, smelled, looked at, or even just walked by it; it would become mystery “meatgate” or “baloneygate” or “tonguegate”. I mention what the inmate said because if buttoned toilets and orange bedspreads make sense to these people - there may be a bigger political scandal. If it's not Ms. Bush (she seems so nice) let's at least get the last administration looked at. I'm sure its fingerprints or continued political financial rewards will be found out by an effective journalist examining who other than the salaried “suits” do not want to change this status-quo system. By the way, my button flusher shut off in reasonable time.
In case I may have lost you during today's early morning thought process… Well I've played a word game, exercised, ate breakfast, straightened up my room, walked about the fence limits of my Ponderosa cell, checked the other door knobs for toilet paper centers (I can't help it) and only 23 ½ hours left to read and write to you.
Some days not much happens in solitary confinement. I started reading "Sole Survivor" a mystery novel about a mysterious plane crash. A funny thing happened today. Although it doesn't seem to be a damp or cold day, I have become a freezing monk. For the first time, I am draped with my blanket because I am so cold. I don't feel sick, I'm sure I am not. But the sight of me writing to you covered with a blanket, or reading with a blanket has even resulted in some comments from the guards as they pick up lunch trays. I don't think this could be a result of weight loss, but one never knows. My window is blackened so no sunlight passes through. One of the guards sympathetically asked, "Are you going fucking crazy?" I simply responded that I was cold. Unfortunately, I have to wait to push the button for hot water tomorrow at breakfast. The interesting observation of the button used to get cold and hot water from my unique button-kitchen-bathroom unit is that it is instant and it shuts off immediately. We all have experienced those institutional faucets that you press and you almost make it to the water before it shuts off. Not this one, the second your finger is off the button, the water stops. To utilize it, one finger pushes while the other hand washes or fills up a milk container. Forget about mixing hot and cold unless you have a bunk mate who hasn't read that sexual attack brochure. It's either very hot (1 Hour) or all cold (23 hours). Today, I hope it gets warmer. Maybe the heat in the rest of the building was shut off for the long weekend. I feel like a family cat left at home when the family goes away for the weekend without the ability to adjust the thermostat.
At least they left an automatic feeder (egg, oatmeal, mystery meat and today uncooked frozen French fries). See, I told you it was cold today.
Chapter 11 – “For Lack of a Nail”
While I am doing a poor impression of "Orange Sitting Bull" I am reading this Sole Survivor book. Once again that cracker-jack education department probably is unaware that there are about 6 suicides in the opening 100 pages. Another subliminal message brought to you by the Bureau of Prisons - "The Bureau that doesn't give a damn what you think because we can do whatever we want to whomever we want because no one gives a damn about those whom we control. "That public service announcement should be on its advertisements. Hey, what an idea, privatizing prisons and letting prisoners and their families, like college, choose the one which has the lowest rate of return. Believe me, think outside of this box (no pun intended); a prison monopoly is still a monopoly, and it's not working as it is.
Memorial Day has always been a tender day in my life. Since the Marine Corps, and having lost some close friends and Marine brothers in Vietnam, I normally golf alone pretending they are with me and laughing to myself about things they would do or say during the round. Well, the traditional tournament has been cancelled this year, and I invited them to spend the time with me, here in my cell. Because of our lifetime friendship, they told me no way will they come; they'll wait until I get out. Those are my friends and I can't blame them. On a more serious note today, I honor those who gave their lives so that I can hope to defeat governmental "employees" who have chosen to conveniently forget the difference between right and wrong. Without these fallen heroes I could be living in a totalitarian system with no hope of restitution and vindication.
It seems that a few Spanish inmates have arrived because of some disciplinary problem in population. Their "property" has been an issue for the past few days. The system can't locate their "property" and the inmates are hysterical. That's all they are talking about, and the solution is, of course, wait until Tuesday when a counselor can help straighten it out. I do not have an opinion or comment on how long it will take to find the "property". When you are reduced to so little, your "property" becomes all that defines you in here. From headset music (which I would eliminate) to personal effects, one would think the property would travel with the prisoner instead of disappearing into a system run almost entirely by the criminals who are put inside here. You figure this logic out. I am going back to reading. Dinner must be only three hours away.
Well, much is happening. First, the Chaplain came by and said he was in a hurry because it was a very beautiful day outside. So much for his consolation. He did also tell me that he looked up my case, and the government's position seemed to be correct from what he had read. He also had jury duty again next week. Hopefully, this will be his final moment of tenderness. Also, he can't help me with a phone call. Total visit time was one minute. I feel better again. Where can I purchase one of those Muslim prayer rugs?
Speaking of Muslims, on the commissary form, from which inmates can purchase items weekly, is pork-free Dove soap. This list and prices are pretty interesting for any reporter who might like to follow the money on this monopoly. Isn't there some sort of law about price gauging when a hurricane or tragedy occurs thus forcing people to pay more than others normally would?
Call me a masochist, but I'm trying the phone attempt again tonight. If I don't keep trying they can say it was available and I didn't use it. I'll not let them slither under a rock on this issue. Over 24 days without contact due to incompetence, disregard or arrogance. This call was not permitted once again!
Today we did have two visitors to the area. "Good morning" the first woman said, "What are you here for?" As I hurriedly attempted to respond, she was gone. Following behind her was a doctor or at least someone in a white lab jacket. He looked at me, and he was gone. At least in a zoo they throw you some peanuts or make faces. I guess I should be pleased that unlike the insensitive Chaplain, they didn't try to tell me what they thought of the government's case. Is it not the task of any leader to try to uplift rather than to devastate?
During the past three weeks I was able to clean and disinfect my little cell to where I felt it was not overrun by transmittable diseases and rodents. Well policy is policy. Today I had to be moved to another cell. My cell was for one inmate, this one is for two. Nevertheless, I just saw this room for the first time. My God, I have just literally removed one 45 gallon trash bag of oranges, paper, old food and old clothes. The walls are covered with filth and mold. I will be cleaning for the next few hours.
For the sake of your personal enjoyment, I have been moved directly across from the fully tattooed Illustrated Man. This is the methadone user. I'm sure after I clean my cell and after I settle in, I'll get to meet the "neighbors".
No time to do anything other than try to clean-up my little section of the world. This cell has not been cleaned or (even paper-Mache′d) for months based on the amount of garbage left on the floor. I'm afraid I have a place which may have very spoiled mice or rats.
When a cell is vacated, shouldn’t it be standard operating procedure to clean it up somewhat? No kidding, I really removed a full 45 gallon garbage bag and there are excessive amounts of mold on the walls. The button-flusher works so I guess I should be happy for that.
Psychologically, this cell movement doesn't do much for one's centering. If they