I was just informed that the elevator was broken and they have cancelled all attorney and other visits until they get the elevator working.
I don't have the words to express my disappointment. I had so much I wanted to give, get and hear, and I felt so painfully isolated today.
Using the stairs, it goes without saying, is simply not permitted. Why not?
I'm sure my attorney is as frustrated wanting to get in, as I am waiting to receive a visitor.
I will wait, I don't think there is a "list" for this - so I do have some hope that it will not be too long.
This feels like childlike disappointment - almost a total let down. When you have been focused on a time goal, prepared for it, go to sleep thinking about it, an unexpected cancellation like this with no alternative plans for visiting is devastating.
Then your mind starts to wonder. When will they fix it? What about future visits? How long before I can communicate with anyone other than writing diary entries to myself? I do get them out daily. For the sake of my other inmates, I will not divulge the method. It is not fair to those who remain behind.
A broken elevator in this rigid system may require much more flexible solutions than the prison system is designed to handle. A broken elevator means no one has to work and no one has to move prisoners. I'm not suspicious at all of lazy guard ill-intent. But today I have unfortunately allowed that thought to slip in.
I will wait, and I will report in future writings when I find out what really happened.
A few hours have gone by and unfortunately it appears that I will not get to meet with anyone, exchange e-mails and give my writings to my attorney. I shouldn't let this bother me, yet I would be less than honest if I said it didn't hit me hard. I can take the cheap hits of stupidity - but I felt this one. It's a funny thing about disappointment sometimes you can accept it, but it doesn't assuage the initial wound.
Listening to these guards laughing, eating and being unconcerned about all of the disappointed visitors and attorneys shouldn't get to me. But they really don't care about these inmates and attorneys. They are not intellectually or spiritually capable of anything other than collecting their pay check, assuring their own job security, and they do not want to make the world better even by one or two acts of kindness. These rehabilitative thoughts are beyond their pay grade and emotional levels.
Here is further "elevator-gate" dialogue. It will require further investigation to get to the truth. As dinner was being delivered by one of the laziest and most angry guards CO Deliverance, I said, "Thank-you, have they fixed the elevator?" He yelled, "How the hell do you know about that elevator story?" I replied, "One of the guards told me because I was expecting a legal visit". He then said, "Take your fucking food, and don't talk about what isn't your business. You fucking mole."
I paused ... I hesitated to stare or scoff. I simply stared as a child in the presence of an alcoholic or abusive parent.
He concluded, "You want your fucking food, or I'll take it away?"
I only got rice and carrots for dinner. I wonder if the Captain or Warden knew the elevator was allegedly "broken" today. Remember a broken elevator means no work for the guards to do.
After almost eighty continuous hours of solitary since my last legal visit, I decided that today I would speak to you on two issues, which further symbolizes the silence of my days. One is the surround symphony of sounds and the other is my estimated caloric intake over the past twenty days. I continue to lose more weight. I can feel it. I shiver much too much.
The sounds I must confess are unique to my jail world and my sensibilities, try to imagine the following sounds continuing throughout your hours of solitude. There are no melodic rhythms just intermittently the following sounds. Some days one is dominant, often they seem to take turns. First, there is the Tourette syndrome guy yelling bizarre sounds and horror movie laughter at a sound decibel level off of the chart. Then there are two Jamaican characters who are housed very far from each other and yelling some sort of Hatfield-McCoy feud hours and hours at a time. I have no idea what they are saying. It definitely is anger, and when it begins and when it ends is a surprise to the silence of the ward in which I am housed.
Now appears my newest sound, which just arrived. This inmate has obviously beaten the telephone list problem. He spoke loudly and coherently for over 3 hours last night on the phone to a fellow gang member. This language was not as foreign as my Jamaican fighters, and it was at times translatable, "You know what I mean, bro"? The problem with his very loud telephone call was - there was no telephone! He is a pure psychotic imagining and carrying on to no one at all. I know this to be true because, as I said, the guards stand outside his cell laughing like children trying to understand a problem beyond their intellect.
Amidst these symphonic sounds, there is the hysterical "banger". He is the one trying to break down the door throwing whatever is in his room and pounding his fists for actually minutes at a time followed by eerie silence only to begin again. He's not as scary as "the crier" who actually cries at the highest and most piercing pitch moaning like in a horror movie. The surround sound effects are enhanced by the guards trying to ignore all of the above sounds by laughing and playing. These are some of the regular sounds I am exposed to during the evening hours as I try to go to sleep.
Only because my lonely cell is bolted and locked, can I sleep.
Chapter 4 – In Contempt? Or Contemptuous?
So many of these individuals are psychologically damaged and so very ill. It is tragic that this is the rehabilitation solution which best serves our society and them. Fortunately, they have the non-contacting mad-hatter psychologist or my inattentive counselor to guide them through their various issues and to return them to society, improved.
My caloric intake seems like an afterthought to these surround melodies, but during this questionable incarceration, I try to find some other things to report to you.
Although I believe "on paper", (like the legal visiting room availability) they serve an adequate caloric intake for prisoners to maintain their weight, I only eat about 700 to 900 calories per day. Let's once again try to go through a typical day, (estimated of course).
My breakfast has been exactly the same each day - one packet of cereal (90 calories), half-pint of milk (80 calories) and either a tangerine or a slice of some canned fruit (60 calories), Total calories = 230.
My lunch may include potato salad or macaroni salad (inedible because mayonnaise and unsanitary conditions plus heat heighten my fear of getting sick), salad (1/8 cup normally hot - I also pass). That leaves the rice and the vegetable and sometimes mystery meat. Estimated Total Calories = 300.
Dinner is pretty much the same except sometimes I do get a tangerine. My breakfast milk container is my cup for water at lunch and dinner. Estimated Total Calories = 300.
Some of the positive effects of my "visit" to observe the prison system is no snacking, a little more forced reading, more Bridge Solitaire than I'd like to say and more push-ups and sit-ups while I drown out the sounds and the loss of some weight. How much have I lost? I'm on the clinic "list" to be weighed.
As I wait to see if the elevator is "working" today, I know now that it is selectively working "depending” if the guards want to "work" themselves. I hope we can have an investigation just to help those who may never have the opportunity to question this type of power abuse.
Abuse of power by the SEC and one Judge is what placed me in this institution in the first place. I guess it is shortsighted of me to think that the same ethical