Letters From Prison: Day 40

Day 40

It’s weird sleeping in here cause no matter what you dream about you always wake up to the nightmare that is your reality; I’m a convict, on a cot, in a cell. About once a day I get this overwhelming feeling that I’m trapped. The cloister phobics loose it first in here. I use to be cloister phobic until I convince myself that it is just all in the mind. I am literally trapped in this tiny space all day with no fresh air. So bye bye to quiet. They made my celly and I move today to downstairs where all the rest of the people are. It’s a full house on this floor. Besides all the noise the other thing that sucks is we are in pitch dark at 10pm-it’s not that horrible but I must abruptly stop writing or reading and go directly to sleep. It’s loud down here-now I see why the CO’s in SHU treat us like animals-the sounds. So I got your letter last night. I hear you loosing it a bit. I pray now that the pieces you loose God finds, fixes up and gives them back to you. We will both be alright because of his mercy for his kids. Anyway there was finally some progress in my investigation. I got interviewed and it went normal. I pretty much told him exactly what I told you. The main thing is I don’t feel unsafe going back out there in general population. So well I still could be in the SHU for up to 90 days but I really doubt I’ll be in here for more than 3 or 4 weeks and that’s only because of how slow things go with the BOP (Bureau of Prison). I at least don’t feel forgotten in here anymore. So I go back to my hole where I live on the top cot and wonder if after being in here so long that I’ll have to readjust to the general population. I know I’ll have a fresh start and new perspective. No more having such a kind heart toward the latin population cause in here they’re bad minus the Pisa crew that I became friends with. Bunky farts every 2 minutes ultra rotten cheese cause he only poops once a week. Explains to me how he wasn’t sleeping every time I don’t flush pee from the extremely loud toilet but he was snoring violently. I finally says “oh, you were just resting your eyes and making horn noises with your nose?” . He continually claims he doesn’t snore when actually he wakes me up every day with it. Yes I am learning tons of patience in here. Sorry to hear that Bob, Bike and the grands were so self center on our anniversary when you needed them the most. You must have had no idea why I wasn’t able to call you that day. I am in love with you and will not abandon you like this again. Anyway another reason his gas reeks is because he saves food from meals, unrefrigerated for 12 to 14 hours. When I first got in a cell with him I told him I was sick and he said what most dudes say to me “that’s okay I don’t get sick”. He’s been sick the last 8 days-people are weird man. Anyway I didn’t go out for my one hour cage dwell today cause I’m still trying to avoid sweating at all costs this week due to no shower due to no shower shoes. Yesterday I got so bored I almost freaked and celly gave me a Maxim magazine to read. At first I refused and asked if there was actually good reading material-he says he only gets it for the reading. Well it IS good reading and always just one of those unattractive Pamela Anderson types for just a few pages in the middle so whatever-I thought I’d tell you. If it upsets you check one out one time at the stores-it’s basically just the cover and those few pages that’s annoying. If anyone sends me a mag or paperback then I will have reading material otherwise I’m just laying here staring at the ceiling while celly and everyone else in here is either reading or listening to their headphones which I also don’t have (just the jimmy rigged speaker). Anyway so while celly was out I washed my socks and undies for these 4 days in the low flow sink that we had to jam a straw in. This is tough though-you know how much I hate dealing with gross things. Anyway on a brighter side that was a funny note from Alex dancing the night away. So I read your letter again and you got me trippin boo. God wants you to have times of boredom and loneliness. It is this time to have a deep, intimate relationship with him. Remember how us being all alone together in Washington made us grow more close than if we had people near? You have this time to draw closer and have that personal intimacy that being lonely really brings. That time I spent in Reno all alone was the closest I ever was to God. Well you know all this but your letter cried out to me and I would be heartless to not offer some helpful words. The first time I read your letter I just assumed you were either venting or informing me of the feelings you had inside. I was just gonna hear it that way but this is a different form of communication then when I was there and you just wanted me to listen and hush. Now you have no way of knowing that I was hearing you like “I hear you babygirl” unless I write something about it so I hope you take it as I really hear you and care. I wish I could be out there to comfort you about me being in here. God can give you more comfort than I ever could and Paul McCartney never stops farting the smell of butt as he wears only his tighty-whiteys all the time. Since we are locked in an air tight closet 23 hours a day together and it’s every 2 minutes I can taste it and it has given me a sinus infection. Oh he drinks old milk that has been out since yesterday (stopped keeping them in the toilet). I am trapped up here near the ceiling and the smell never leaves-Help Me Lord God Help! I have stopped myself many times from saying something because what’s he gonna do hold them in and hurt his stomach. I treat others how I want treated and that would suck to have to hold my gas. So I keep silent and deal and get headaches from the hardcore aroma. They aren’t standard farts-they smell like butt. Sorry to write so much about it but it is impossible to ignore. It invades my being. Keeps them rotating about every 2 minutes since last night. Have I mentioned that you gotta yell super loud through the doors to a CO who just happens to walk by to get things like TP, forms, info etc. 9 times out of 10 you gotta ask again cause they forget in a matter of minutes, They shake their head yes but never return. So yep he forgot. I told my bunky that it’d be funny to start pounding on the door and freaking out about getting that form. Just to make a huge production so that they don’t forget. Well I just became a little more insecure. Somehow this gay guy who goes by J-Lo and who use to work in the kitchen with me ended up being put in the SHU and somehow got a job as the SHU orderly which means he mops outside our cells in the hallway. Problem is these cells have a grilled window about the size of 3 of my heads stacked up but skinnier. There is a large fluorescent light in the cells so from the hall you can see everything inside the cell. Well just walking by the CO’s or whoever are able to see our penis’s urinating and our butts being wiped. Inmates can see each other doing this from across the hall through windows. So now we have a homo lurking around the hall in the name of cleaning. The rest of the kitchen workers have got to be thinking it’s connected cause there is only about 20-30 people in the hole so the odds that we would come in here right around the same time has got to be rare. There gonna give me hell at work about this. I am Job from the bible-especially when I had that rash all over and was itching it with a major headache and fever in the hole in prison with farty. Oh just great, now J-Lo is washing our window and made eye contact w/ my nutsack. Back in the kitchen the white shotcaller guy who put me in here would come up to me at work and say that J-Lo was checking me out which he IS a starer. Well the day before I came in here he came and told me that he told J-Lo to stop staring at me. Now this extremely overweight gay Native American is in here washing my window wtf is up with that-totally violated-not safe using the toilet anymore-yeah so this is death row. This is beyond maximum security. I have this visualization of the kind of man I want to be when I get back into the world. It’s like Charles Ingles meets Brett Meador…on LSD of course J. I should be out in GP in no time. Don’t think me trying to get out of J unit wasn’t necessary-it really was-I haven’t written all things-not any bodily harm on me but I’ll tell you later. You’ll be proud of my wisdom with more then one unmentionable. Was still unnecessary to come to the SHU though.