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Day 40

Tuesday, March 14, 2000

Well, today is the second tuesday of the month, which means DRC to those who have been in work release for a misdemeanor, halfway through their sentence and without disciplinary action. That used to be me, but not any more. Most likely, Dave and Paul, probably Ogre as well, all got to go home today. If so, then to them, good luck and stay out of truble.

I, however, am still in the hole. I am in the dark now, writing by the light shining in the one sqquare foot window in our steel door. I'd guess that it's about 6:30 PM, and all my cellmates are sleeping, or trying to. I gave up. I don't see how these guys can sleep ALL DAY. Try as I might, I can't do it. I just toss and turn and think. And think. And THINK.

And all this thinking is starting to drive me insane. It would be different if I had someone to talk to, but I don't. All four of my cellmates either know each other, or know common friends, and all are from "the street". I'm not. Therefore, I'm never included in their conversations and I get laughed at, anytime I try to say anything. It gets real old, real quick. The only time I'm included in anything is when there's only three people playing cards or Dominos, and they need a fourth. Then I can count on Rocky saying, "Hey Internet King! Get yo' ass up here and play Spades!" So I do, which is fine because I like Spades and Dominos. Only problem is we're not supposed to have them in the hole.

In our defense, though, the guards never searched those that brought in the games, so we can hardly be blamed. Besides, what are they going to do? Throw us in jail?

The guards in this place seam to be anticleanliness. Every meal of every day we ask for a broom, mop, and a bleach bottle to clean our cell. Every day we are denied. This place is filthy, and we cn't do anything about it. The tabl is sticky with spilled food and drink; there are crumbs and trash on the floor, not to mention dust and dirt.

I don't remember if I mentioned that there' a hole in the wall leading outside. There used to be an exhaust fan there, but for whatever reason, it's gone. Now there's just a metal grate covering a one square foot hole outside. The metal grate prevents us from escaping, assuming we're all yoga experts able to contort our bodies allowing us to fit through a one square foot hole in the wall, located two stories up in the air. It does not, hoever, prevent the entry of bugs. That just adds to the enjoyment of the dirty room. Today I asked the day shift guard for a broom. Without saying a word, he slammed the door in my face. Later he came in and I asked him to mail a letter fr me. Again he looked at me, then slammed the door. This afternoon I asked AGAIN for a broom or mop, and he AGAIN stared at me and slammed the door.

This asshole is obviously deaf and mute, so I'll call him Officer Keller, as in Helen Keller. Guards like him are a prime example of the brainless attudes wtha badge that treat good men like murderers and wear on our sanity.

I have three friends that are jail guards in other counties. Alan, Nate and James, and after this experience, I'm going to ask them if it's the same where they work, or if out county is a breeding ground for the monsters.

So here I sit in a dirty bug infested cell, where five men drive up the temperature just by being here, and then they turn up the heat at night. It gets so hot in here we can't sleep. Other cells have their doors propped open to let air cool it down, but not us. We're in the hole. We get to live in Hell with a temperature to match.

Every night I pray for peace, that the guards and the conditions won't get to me, won't change who I am, yet I can feel what it's doing to me. I can feel the frustration and anger as it swells up inside me, just like they WANT it to. They WANT me to be bitter. They WANT to break me. That's why I can't let them. And although my mouth waters for the sweet taste of revenge against these bastards, my mind tells me the best vengeance is to not let them get to me. To rise above it and be happy nonetheless.

From this point of view, it sounds impossible. They have tried to ruin my life from the inside out. Yet, they cannot take away my wonderful wife and my two beautiful daughters. They cannot take away my knowledge and my skills. When I get out, I will find another job. Hopefully in my hometown so I can leave this place behind. That is my hope and dream.

That is what is keeping me going.

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