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Life Uncategorized

Love in Prison

MUNCY STATE PRISON

February 5th, 2025

Wednesday

9:55pm

They’re saying an inmate is dead. Either in the RHU or the Infirmary. 

There was no heat in here last night and everybody woke up freezing. It’s still cold, but apparently the heat is fixed. 

No news on who died (or if someone died). 

I had a visit with Stryder today–a video visit. His blood pressure was so high yesterday that he was in the hospital.

I feel like Zuko and I are dancing around the love conversation. She says we’re “madly in like” with each other, which is funny, but I want to tell her that I love her. I don’t know how she would react, though. Then I think: What would I do if I was being my truest, bravest self? 

I would tell her. 

“If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me

And just forget the world?

I don’t quite know

How to say

How I feel…”

February 6th, 2025

Thursday

12:43pm

I wrote Zuko:

On the radio this morning was “Sweet But Psycho” and then “I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It” lol. Reminded me of you.

A lot of things remind me of you now. I think about you a lot, and about how you make me feel–beautiful and sexy and wanted–even in this completely gross, unsexy place. To feel that way is unexpected and nice. I wonder if we’d ever have come across each other on the outside. I think probably not. You’re my silver lining, and I’m generally not a silver lining kind of person, especially about prison. So thank you. More about what I was to do when I get out of here: I want to write a book that sparks a global conversation about mass incarceration and women in America. How putting women in prison tears apart the fabric of society. How this country would look without prisons. That’s what I want to do. Here’s a quote that I liked from “Good Girl, Bad Girl:” [Grief quote about losing children]

I hope you have a good time watching your movie. I’ll miss you until then. The kiss earlier was nice. I liked your hand on my skin. I wish we could touch each other the way we want to. Grrrrrr…….oh well. I guess I should just be grateful for what we can do. I like spending time with you. It’s frustrating, though, to always want more… *sigh* You’re sexy as fuck, if I didn’t tell you that yet today.

“Pretty pretty please, 

If you ever, ever feel, 

Like you’re nothing, 

You are perfect, 

To me.”

2:35pm

Lockdown

3:33pm

The rumor is that somebody overdosed on J Unit.

6:06pm

They still haven’t fed us yet.

6:34pm

No dinner yet.

6:56pm

No dinner yet.

7:02pm

Truck pulled up outside.

Presumably with food.

7:12pm

Started passing out food to Unit.

February 7th, 2025

Zuko wrote me:

News: the dickbag in charge of the country said the US was gonna take over Gaza and the Palestinians can fuck off and he’s gonna rebuild it to be the Middle East Riviera.

Hey Beautiful, 

I fuckin miss you 🙁 At least we got a little time together earlier. *sigh* I love– You just walked by, cuz ou’re awake now, so I don’t have to frump at you 😛But I was gonna. Anyway, I love how you feel in my arms and how you feel on my lips. I’m really glad you keep saying, “Okay,” to me 🙂. And I’m glad I’m brave enough to talk to you and ask you things. I can’t get enough of you. Kissing you is…mmmmmmm. I can’t even put it into words. But it’s good. Really good. We compliment each other very well. Mmmmmmm 🙂. You’re a great kisser and you’re so fucking sexy. I hate having to stop what we’re doing all the time, but it’s better than getting busted. I agree with you, if we had the chance to do what we want to with each other, it would be fuckin amazing. We’re both very attracted to each other and we match each other’s energy. I love looking into your eyes and smiling together when we pause briefly and then kiss some more. You’re so gorgeous. “AI Goddess you” has nothing on the real thing, and I’m gonna enjoy every amazing moment I’m lucky enough to get with you. I love the real you 🙂Thanks for choosing to spend your time with me.

I’m honored to be your silver lining here 🙂You make life better, so thank YOU. And no, I very much doubt our paths would have crossed outside. I’m  happy I met you. You have a very special place in my heart. I like all the songs you share with me 🙂. And it’s cute that you think of me all the time…. You liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike me 😛 I think of you all of the time too, even in my weird toothbrush dreams. Lmao. I’m gonna look that up right now, cuz it’s fuckin weird and I’m a very curious person. BRB! Back. There’s no toothbrush in my dream dictionary 😐 womp womp *sigh* Anyway. I pulled a ramen hair off me during the movie…after I ate my lunch 😐. I’m gonna need you to control your body ma’am, it keeps getting on me. Just kidding! I want you all over me! 🙂I love the way you taste and smell and feel and look and even how you sound. 🙂That time you hit me with your sexy voice stopped my heart briefly 🙂. I want all of you all over me, all of the time. I never told you this, but I was so fuckin nervous right before we kissed for the first time. I got all my courage together and went for it, though, and I’m so glad everything went well. Well, it was amazing, actually. 🙂I can’t get enough of you. I wish we were alone together right meow. 🙂. Kissing, touching, looking into each other’s eyes, discovering each other together, and then falling asleep in each other’s arms. It would be nice waking up with you, too. I like seeing you in the morning, all sleepy, and then you see me and you smile 🙂. You’re really pretty. Oh ffs Bozark, you’re sleeping again. 🙁 How am I supposed to kiss you good night now?? I’m just messing with you, I know you need sleep to feel better. And please don’t apologize for being “off” when you don’t feel well., I understand. All I ask is that you tell me when you’re not feeling well so that I know what’s wrong. You kinda hurt my feelings the other night cuz you walked away from me when I was trying to talk to you, and I thought you were mad/upset with me cuz I did something wrong. I was sad and confused. 🙁Anyway, I missed you a lot today. Stupid fuckin lockdown. I’m sorry you missed your visit. 🙁I’m grateful for the time we got together. You taste and feel SO good. I’m glad you like my hands on you, cuz I like having them on you. Mmmmmmm….. 🙂 You’re allowed to touch me too, just so that’s clear. I need sleep. I miss you. 

Good morning.

I usually re-read stuff before I give it to you, but I don’t have time cuz you said, “Okay,” to coffee. 🙂

I wrote her back:

Hi Sexy, 

First of all, I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. Some days I just wanna stay in bed  and do nothing all day and I feel like my whole energy is off. I’m sorry. On those days I wish we could snuggle. I fuckin miss you too. I love your letters. I’m glad you’re brave enough to talk to me and ask me things too. I always want to know what you’re thinking. Thanks for letting me know what the dickbag in charge of the country is doing. I love it when you kiss me, it feels so good. I can’t get enough of you either, and I want more. Thank you for saying I’m gorgeous. You make me feel gorgeous and beautiful. I think you’re fantastic, and I love the real you too. I’m so glad we met. “I’m a sucker for you,” is playing on the radio. That’s how I feel about you. 

You: “You wanna get outta here?”

Me: “Yup.”

If it’s with you–yup. I love that you dream about me, even with your weird toothbrush troubles. Sorry my hair gets all over you. Believe me–I want all of me to be all over you too. I was nervous before we kissed the first time too, but then you smiled at me, and I was fine. You have a very cute half-smile that you do and it melts my heart. You’re so sexy. I can’t get enough of you. I feel like I said that already, but it’s true. I love that you like seeing me in the morning when I’m all sleepy–you’re incredibly adorable when you first wake up. 

Anyway, we are going to the library and I want to give this to you. 

I fuckin miss you.

4:35pm

I was standing in the bathroom with Zuko when Daisy was getting out of the shower, and when I got back to the cell, Daisy snapped, “You’ve turned into those people that we hated, hanging around in the bathroom all of the time. I wanted to get out and get dressed, but there’s an audience.”

I said I was sorry, but what I really wanted to say was, “No one is looking at you, miss. We’re obviously looking at each other. And I wasn’t the only one just standing around in the bathroom.”

Zuko got called into the psychologist’s office today and looked distraught when she came out, so I was hoping she would tell me what was wrong, but she didn’t want to talk about it. So that’s why I was in the bathroom. Plus it’s the only place we’re allowed to be when there’s no Common Room. This is prison, and literally 50 people share that bathroom. I hope this doesn’t turn into a big fucking deal. Jesus Christ, I hate this fucking fucking place. I feel like Zuko is the only good thing about this place. I used to feel that way about Daisy. 

Ugh. 

She’s been making comments every day about how I’m in “Daisy Withdrawal,” which is her passive-aggressive way of saying I’m not spending enough time with her. WE FUCKING LIVE IN THE SAME CELL. 

FUCK.

9:19pm

Jesus Christ.

This day just keeps getting worse. Zuko’s pissed at me. Fuck my life. I made the gargantuan mistake of swatting her leg because she made a joke and she FREAKED out. “That’s my bad leg, oh my God, you scared me, bla, bla, bla!”

Like–totally freaked out. 

Like……..dude.

You’re completely overreacting. 😐

I must have apologized a thousand times. She’s still not speaking to me. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

I hate this day.

February 8th, 2025

Saturday

1:52pm

Stryder visited, which was nice. Zuko finally forgave me, thank God. I had nightmares last night that I was little and my dad was sexually abusing me. 

Very weird.

I have nightmares when I’m upset. I was very upset that Zuko was upset with me. I’m using the word upset a lot. Apparently, they found my lost clothes over in C Unit, so I have to go get them when shift change is over. Then Zuko wants to hang out in the Common Room. I told Stryder that Zuko said that they are rivals now, and Stryder said, “Game on.”

Funny.

Zuko says she’s winning. She is. I’m very fond of her. I could barely sleep last night, and then this morning we were in the bathroom at the same time and she said, “Can this not be weird?” And then we talked and hugged and kissed and everything was okay.

Thank God. 

That was stressful.

February 9th, 2025

Zuko wrote me:

Yeahhhh, we’re gonna need to figure out that shower plan, cuz I was REALLY tempted to just get in with you. I want all of you. Badly. We won’t have room to do everything I’d like to do with you, but we’ll leave that stuff for the future. I’m gonna manifest all THAT. 🙂You, me, a nice big comfy bed and all the time in the world. I’d love to whisper all the things I wanna do with you while we’re sitting in Common Room to make you blush. And then you’d look at me with your beautiful blue eyes and say sweetly, “Okay.” 🙂

Good morning Beautiful 🙂

I was busy doing awesome stuff (with you) yesterday and didn’t finish this. Sorry. I’m slow. Good things take time and I’d like to think I’m worth the wait. 🙂 I really enjoy our time together. I like talking with you and listening to you tell me about your life. Thank you for trusting me enough to share yourself with me. I have a lot of fun joking around with you too. You have such a pretty smile (that you should really stop covering) and you have a really cute laugh. 🙂 You’re adorable and I can’t get enough of you Sprout. I’m madly in like with you 🙂 I haven’t seen you all morning 🙁 I miss you. I’m in a lot of pain today, so I’m guessing you’re feeling it too. I’d love to be snuggled up with you, right up against each other, my arm around you holding you close. Yeah, I just wanna hug and kiss you and be close to you. I miss you. I just saw you at Count to say hi and let you know I’m not going to lunch. I forgot I’m making pizzas for me and Bundo. You don’t want grey country “meat” anyway. Let me know if you want a sandwich or

something. 🙂I’ll make you something if you’re hungry. Okay, I gotta make pizza, do commissary stuff and write out those prop bets. Ya know–awesome stuff. 🙂

I have Puppy Bowl stuff on TV cuz PUPPIES!! 🙂Hopefully we get to chill some this afternoon. I miss you. I wanna hug and kiss you.

Activate: Awesome Stuff Mode! 🙂

I wrote her back:

Yes, we agreed, we’re going to have to figure out the shower plan. I always wish you could just get in with me. I want all of you too. Badly. About manifesting all the stuff for the future–Yes to all that. Good things do take time and you are worth the wait. Whether you’re writing me or doing all kinds of sexy stuff with me. You’re worth the wait. I really enjoy our time together too, and hearing about your life. You’re very smart and funny, and I can’t get enough of you either. Sprout–that’s adorable. I miss you all of the time.

How’d you do on your prop bets? 

And thank YOU for trusting ME enough to share yourself with me. I appreciate it a lot, especially because you have a hard time with trust. I liked our first date. Thanks for explaining football to me. I’m looking forward to that pool lesson. I hope I get to kiss you good night. Won’t it be nice when we can kiss each other whenever we want? 

Manifest THAT. 🙂

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Headaches, Assaches, and Sex deprivation

WOMEN’S CENTER

May 16th, 2018

Wednesday

Day 317

3pm

I’ve had a fucker of a day. Headache all day and super tired. I told my psych doctor about it and she told me to take vitamins B, C, and D. Big told me I could get them, but not when. I also need to pay some bills and get a money order to renew my license before June. Everything here happens so slowly. I saw Nickolai strolling the baby around the property today. I wonder how she’s doing. Kat wants me to make up some discussion topics for group tonight, so I have to do that now. 

7:30pm

Kat is taking us to Coudersport–me and Sugar Momma to my grief group and Tori, Jo, and Jolene to the meeting. Kat never drives–I wonder why she is taking us. Tori is doing much better today, and in more good news, she quit her job! She didn’t get into trouble though–she had Mr. Big and the Big Boss’s permission. My head is killing me. It was cold and damp today, but I wore my new dress from the Community Closet today anyway. It made me feel marginally better. Tori went to therapy today and it went well, I guess. Maybe Nikolai will go to the meeting and Tori will talk to her.

May 17th, 2018

Thursday

Day 318

1:30pm

We’re doing a budgeting group–super boring. Balancing a checkbook and such. We did Community Service earlier at the Community Building for 2 ½ hours and then had lunch, but I couldn’t eat because my head hurts so much. Yesterday, Elaine said during my group, “I’m so glad I don’t get my menstruals anymore!” out of nowhere–it was funny. 

It’s really nice out today–sunshiney and warm, but I can’t really enjoy it because of my head. I can’t wait to be off of this Hep-C medication, Mavret. The pharmacy called me yesterday to see how I was tolerating the medication, and when I told them I was headachey and tired, they said that those were the two most common complaints. 

Elaine and Brenda are making paper hats out of their fake checkbooks, and the rest of us are just sitting here, bored to tears. I wish we could plant some things in the garden instead of doing stupid groups inside…Sandra is still annoying everyone to death.

May 18th, 2018

Friday

Day 319

8am

I have another headache. Shocker. Mr. Big says I should drink more water. Double shocker. He’s probably right.

10:30am

Living Clean Book:

“Each time we recognize an opportunity for spiritual growth, we experience a reawakening of hope.”

“We ease the pain of living through spiritual principles.”

“Surviving our own lives seems impossible when we get here, but we learn, gradually, to face reality and make friends with the truth.”

“We can love our lives, find joy in being alive, and face the world with genuine excitement.”

“What we find is not that our Higher Power spares us the hardships of life, but that we receive the grace to get through them clean.”

“Humility and gratitude walk hand in hand. We practice saying what we are grateful for whether or not we feel it.”

“Part of learning is making mistakes. We learn as much by missing the mark as we do by finding our target.”

“In the same way that a small change in course greatly alters the destination of ships at sea, small changes in the way we respond to life can free us from old, repetitive patterns and open us to new ways of thinking and acting.”

“Accepting our freedom is a massive act of spiritual courage.”

1pm

Gawd. Sandra is still on her “I’m leaving!” kick. She also said, “I don’t need education! I done graduated!” when she was told we’re doing an “educational” group. 

Ugh. 

I’m losing my health insurance on Sunday. 

Ugh. 

Uh oh. Mr. Big just came out when Sandra spouted, “I have an ass-ache! Can I go lay down?” This is because she was told that Brenda was laying down because she had a headache.

Now Gert is trying to do a group on building each other up. Now people are saying nice things about each other–that’s nice. Sugar Momma is trying to quit caffeine and cigarettes at the same time, which is not going well. She stayed in bed until 11:30am. I wish I could do that. Elaine is trying to take over the group–it’s kind of funny. She keeps interjecting ridiculous things into the conversation that have nothing to do with anything.

Big left for the day–must be nice!

Tori is still having a hard time–Big told her that she was being dramatic and that she needs in-patient rehab.

Uh oh.

Now we’re in an uncomfortable conversation about God. The Big Boss just walked in. At least she interrupted the conversation–Gert was talking about her prayers when her husband died. She thinks it’s her fault that he died because she prayed for him to be out of pain instead of for him to live.

Geezoman.

That’s a lot of guilt to carry around. 

Now Jo is bitching because Big is only letting her smoke two cigarettes per day until she stops yelling and screaming and starts participating. Now Tori is complaining that her mental illness is a joke because she wants to go to a psych ward.

This has gotten off track. 

Tori has been asking for help for two weeks–she sees her psychiatrist next week. I feel bad for her. Hopefully she gets put on different meds. Now this is just a bitch session. 

Hm.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand now we’re talking about brain cancer and being overweight. I told the group that we should practice gratitude more often and make gratitude lists.

2pm

That was the longest hour ever. Now we have another group, this one on thinking errors. 

Lord, have mercy.

6pm

Tori says it smells like sweat, dirty feet, and farts in here. I talked to the boys–they had cereal for supper and Henry got attacked by a chicken and stung by a bee today. 

Hm. 

They went to my ex-friend, Folly’s, house today–she has twin boys too.

10pm

I just weighed myself–154lbs, which is depressing. I have skipped at least one meal per day this week because my head hurt so bad. I have to do laundry tomorrow. I have a zit on my shoulder that’s really irritating. I guess Tori’s new man’s ex-girlfriend snooped through his truck and found Tori’s letters and flipped shit. I’m pretty sure he broke up with her to be with Tori. 

I guess Jo is going to get written up again for breaking the no smoking rule. Now Kat and Georgia are talking about the ghost Jacob that lives here. Jolene and Jo are freaking out because they’re talking about it. Georgia went to the kitchen and Tori laid in wait for her and jumped out and scared her. Georgia says now she has a poop stain on her pants. 

Funny.

Now we’re talking about sleep paralysis, which happened to Tori last night. Now Tori’s talking about her lightning bolt stretch mark that points to her clit. 

Funny.

I told her it’s there so no one loses their way.

May 19th, 2018

Saturday

Day 320

6pm

I slept most of the day today–my headaches got the best of me. I didn’t even eat or smoke. I got out of Community Service and groups for half the day–Gert must have felt bad for me. Feliz’s grandmother or great-grandmother died, so she’s been off for a few days, but she’s here tonight. She’s having a hard time of it. Elaine is having a hard time because her boyfriend says he doesn’t “feel anything” when he comes to visit her. I told her to get a new boyfriend.

I guess we have to do “Team Building” now–I think we’re just going to do discussion topics, which are just questions that I make up.

10pm

Well, tonight was eventful. We went to a meeting in Galeton, and when we were getting out of the van, Jolene saw a man who beat the pulp out of her a few years ago. Like–her face got reconstructed, and the store she was beat up in got sued because they didn’t call 911. It was bad, and seeing him traumatized her a lot. So she started crying and shaking in the meeting, and we ended up leaving after a few minutes. It gets bigger though–she had to call the police when we got back the the Center because she has a standing PFA against him, and he’s not allowed within five miles of her. Also, she thinks Feliz told him about the meeting and where we would be, which is a huge confidentiality breach. I guess Feliz and him are friends or something (??!!). Jolene cried and shook almost the entire way back from Galeton. 

Now Jolene just came in and said that the PFA she had is expired. That’s what the police told her. 

My God.

She should be able to get him for fucking stalking. What a monster.

Then when we got back, Brenda was crying because she misses her kids, and Tori and Sugar Momma both said that they were having hallucinations today because their Bipolar Disorder is acting up. Holy crap!

What a day. 

I’m going to bed.

May 20th, 2018

Sunday

Day 321

12pm

I feel pretty good today–no headache! I’m super glad about that. Tori seems better today. Sugar Momma is still complaining of hallucinations, and is practicing grounding techniques. There is a horrible movie on with blood and gore and car wrecks and death. It makes me feel bad for Gert, who is watching. She lost her husband in a car wreck.

1pm

I can’t wait for visits. Now we’re doing meal planning and inventory. Sandra spouted to me today, “I don’t care if you hate me!” I’m not sure where that came from. I don’t hate her, but I might be beginning to. So much for trying to talk to her nicely. 

Tiger came today for two hours–I got out my makeup and some books, and Sugar Momma gave me three dollars for the vending machines, so the kids will be happy. Sometimes it’s hard to entertain them for two hours.

8pm

We’re having a fake in-house meeting of NA. Visiting with the kids was good. All the women are talking about is how sex-deprived they are. 

9pm

Snack time.

I didn’t eat dinner, and I’m not eating sugar-free gross Jell-o. During meditation, Grammy was super pissed and I touched her arm, and she yelled, “DON’T TOUCH ME!!!” I thought she was going to hit me! Maybe I’ll change her name back to Old Toothless. Or Grumpy Old Toothless. Oh, nevermind–she came out and apologized.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Crazy, Shame, Candy, and More Crazy

MUNCY STATE PRISON

January 6th, 2025

Monday

Cool went to Penn-Highlands psych hospital on Friday. That’s really all I know. My parents called CRISIS on him because his delusions were getting worse.

There’s a GI virus going around this Unit. Vomiting and diarrhea galore. People are literally shitting their pants. Norovirus, they say. There is also a snowstorm outside.

Book:

“Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead” by Brene Brown, Ph.D., LMSW 

Excerpts:

P. 189

“SIGNS THAT SHAME HAS PERMEATED THE CULTURE

Blaming, gossiping, favoritism, name-calling, and harassment are all behavior cues that shame has permeated a culture. A more obvious sign is when shame becomes an outright management too.. Is there evidence of people in leadership roles bullying others, criticizing subordinates in front of colleagues, delivering public reprimands, or setting up reward systems that intentionally belittle, shame, or humiliate people?”

P. 195-196

“Related to blame is the issue of cover-ups. Just like blame is a sign of shame-based organizations, cover-up cultures depend on shame to keep folks quiet. When the culture of an organization mandates that it is more important to protect the reputation of a system and those in power than it is to protect the basic human dignity of individuals or communities, you can be certain that shame is systemic, money drives ethics, and accountability is dead.”

P. 225

“Shame is so painful for children because it is inextricably linked to the fear of being unlovable. For young children who are still dependent on their parents for survival–for food, shelter, and safety–feeling unlovable is a threat to survival. It’s trauma. I’m convinced that the reason most of us revert back to feeling childlike and small when we’re in shame is because our brain stores our early shame experiences as trauma, and when it’s triggered we return to that place.

THE END

3:30pm

Lockdown. No word on why. The lights keep going out and an alarm was going off on S Unit. The kiosks have been down for five days. 

January 10th, 2025

Friday

12:53pm

Our cellie Martha got the norovirus. She just woke up puking and apologizing at the same time. Miraculously, neither Daisy or I have gotten it yet. The kiosks are finally working again, thankfully. Not that I have any messaging credits, but I can at least check my balance. I have a visit with Stryder (video) in a few minutes. I had one yesterday with Paul, but neither one of us had much to say. 

Cool is still in the Psych hospital. They told him he couldn’t leave unless he takes medication, so he finally agreed to. Not telling whether he’ll take them on the outside.

No Library today.

Zuko says she broke up with Tyson, but Tyson says they’re still together. Tyson never said anything to me one way or another, after all that drama and threatening about a fight.

Whatever.

Los Angeles is burning down.

EXERCISE: STORY FROM CHILDHOOD

In 1988, the penny candy store was exactly one mile from our house on East Holland Road in Western New York. We usually weren’t allowed to go, but once in a while, we were. My sister and I would each get one dollar from our mother–who was usually angry about one thing or another and bitching about it on the phone–to spend at the candy store.

We would go to the end of East Holland Road, past the Big Red Barn that didn’t have any animals in it, and turn left onto another road–Protection Road. Then there was a high bridge we had to cross over, but there was no water beneath it, just railroad tracks, so if you fell, you’d be in trouble.

Then, eventually, there was the store, with a crotchety old lady (who seemed to loathe small children with one-dollar bills) behind the counter. I would wonder later why she owned a penny candy store at all, if she’d rather be eating us for dinner, like in Hansel and Gretel. (Aside–why are children’s stories so gruesome and horrifying?) 

She would begrudgingly dole out our painstakingly chosen pieces of candy and then shoo us away, lest we think of stealing more loot for ourselves.

We would eat the candy all the way home, which seemed to take forever and a day. Then we would get to our yellow house on the corner and go inside, where our mother would still be bitching on the phone about her crappy life and “these damn kids.”

EXERCISE: TIMELINE of 2005

January 2005

Ethan is four months old. I am working at the Vet Tech Institute as an instructor. Ethan is going to Child’s Way (a special needs day care) during the day. My sister moves in from Erie, PA. She drinks all of the time. My divorce is finalized.

February 2005

Ethan is five months old. Elizabeth tries to make him sit up like a normal baby. Elizabeth asks me if he is dying. I say yes.

March 2005

Ethan is six months old. I sign paperwork for a “Do Not Resuscitate” order for him at Child’s Way. He is hospitalized with profound anemia. He is drinking Ensure almost exclusively at this point.

April 2005

Ethan dies on April 6th, 2005

April 6th, 2005

I was sitting on my couch next to a prone, unconscious Ethan. The only sound besides the hospice nurse gently explaining to me that babies are “programmed to live,” and that’s why his death was taking so long, was the sound of the death rattle in Ethan’s chest every time he took a breath. 

I’ll never forget that sound.

I couldn’t figure out how he was still living. This is why the nurse, Dan, was trying to impress upon me that infants are hardwired for survival. After dealing with animals for a decade as a veterinary technician, I couldn’t for the life of me make it make sense that this kid was still alive. He had been given two blood transfusions and was still anemic, had fluid in his lungs and infections in his gut, and –oh yeah–before all that was missing damn near half of his SKIN. 

You can’t live without your skin. 

Why was he still alive?

Finally, I started sobbing and exclaimed, “I just can’t take this anymore!” and at the same moment Ethan took a giant breath. “I-is this agonal?” I asked Dan, who answered, “I don’t know.”

Well, Ethan must’ve heard me, because he never took another breath. 

Next–just silence.

I cried and kissed his face and told him that I loved him and that I was happy for him.

I was relieved.

Finally, the suffering would be over.

He had suffered so much that I couldn’t stand watching it any more. 

Finally, no more agonizing death rattle, no more struggle, blessed peace.

In a daze, I went out of the living room to tell my family. I told them and kept walking, out of the apartment, out of the driveway in my socks. I wanted to be alone with God for a moment, to thank Him for taking Ethan home.

A truck was pulling into my driveway as I walked past it toward the road, a flower delivery truck. I barely saw it. I continued walking and praying quietly to myself, and went around the block.

Back at my apartment, my Aunt Sweetheart intercepted the ill-timed flowers, complete with “Get Well Soon!” balloons aplenty. My mother, horrified, quickly stabbed scissors through the balloons, crumpled them up, and threw them in the garbage. 

I wouldn’t find this out until years later, of course, the frantic balloon-stabbing party, but I thought it was darkly funny when I did. 

I wonder what Dan, the hospice nurse, thought of the whole thing while he was meticulously measuring all of Ethan’s narcotic medications and dumping them down the toilet. He probably thought we were all crazy, me walking around the block in my socks and my mother’s reaction to the “Get Well!” balloons. 

I will say this–if there’s anything on this planet that is universally crazy-making, it’s your own child dying in front of you on your couch.

I hated that couch.

Funny that I slept on it for the next few months because I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the bed that Ethan and I shared. 

That bed gave me nightmares.

If I slept in it, I would wake up at 3am–always 3am–with a start, and look around frantically for Ethan. It was time for his medicine, time for a feeding, time for something. Where was he? Had Elizabeth taken him in the night? Horror of horrors–did I leave him somewhere in his carseat? 

Why couldn’t I remember??

A small voice in the back of my head would be nagging at me insistently, trying to tell me something, but I would ignore it.

I had to find Ethan first.

Where was he?

By this time, my heart was pounding in my ears, and I was starting to hyperventilate. 

What?

What?!

What was that voice saying??!

Oh.

Oh no.

Ethan had died. 

Ethan was dead. 

Ethan had died on the couch in the living room.

He didn’t need medication or feeding. 

He was dead. 

I would stop panicking and just burst into tears instead, with my head in my hands. 

Like I said–crazy-making.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Jeopardy, Prison Stuff, and MLK

MUNCY STATE PRISON

January 2nd, 2025

Thursday

7:09pm

I have a big zit in the middle of my forehead.

My feelings are hurt. 

Zuko and I were supposed to play Jeopardy tonight, and Martha was going to be the host, but Martha didn’t want to sit at a certain table. Zuko wanted to sit at a table where her girlfriend couldn’t see her across the Unit, so she decided not to play at all.

Like–what?

You can only play some stupid, harmless game with me if you’re hiding? 

That doesn’t even make any sense!

Plus it makes me feel worthless!

Then she wants to talk to me later like nothing’s wrong.

Fuck that.

I don’t even play games like that in my romantic relationships, much less platonic ones. 

What the fuck?

Maybe Daisy is right, and I’m just a pawn in this stupid game they seem to think is a relationship.

January 3rd, 2025

Book:

“Gates of Injustice” by Alan Elsner © 2006

P. 158

“The problem with the ‘worst of the worst’ argument is that experience has shown that it just isn’t true. A better slogan would have been, ‘Build it and they will come.’ Once a state built a supermax, it was under enormous political pressure to fill it. After spending tens of millions of dollars to erect these costly penal palaces, governors were not anxious to have them standing half-empty. In state after state, it became abundantly clear that a high proportion of supermax inmates were severely mentally ill.

They were not so much the ‘worst of the worst’ as the ‘sickest of the sick.’ Wardens of other prisons were all too happy to get rid of them because they were disruptive and difficult to control.

Supermax wardens took them to fill as many beds as possible.”

P. 166

“Psychiatrist Terry Kupers has also studied SHU syndrome. He said even those inmates who did not become completely psychotic manifested a number of psychosis-like symptoms, including massive anxiety, hyper-responiveness to external stimuli, perception distortions and hallucinations, acute confusion, difficulties with concentration and memory and others. Kupers made the point that most supermax prisoners would eventually be released to the community on completing their sentences. They would emerge from years of total isolation mentally destroyed and full of rage.”

P. 175

“In Oklahoma, where death row is underground so there is no natural light, a death sentence means never seeing the sun again, which perhaps explains why one in three inmates give up their appeals and ask to be put to death quickly. This phenomenon, known as volunteerism, is growing throughout the country.

From 1995 through 2001, at least 61 of the 409 people put to death in the United States were ‘volunteers.’ Some were clearly mentally incompetent; others were deeply depressed. 

‘With inadequate medical and psychiatric attention, I have seen rapid deterioration and personality changes in these men, which is what is leading to volunteerism,’ said Texas defense lawyer Yolanda Torres.”

P. 188

“Jails have a much more complex and varied mission than prisons. The key point is that for a great number of people, jails are not supposed to be places of punishment. They are holding facilities. According to the Department of Justice, jails have ten distinct tasks:

  1. To receive individuals pending arraignment and hold them awaiting trial, conviction or sentencing.
  2. To readmit probation, parole, and bail bond violators and absconders.
  3. To temporarily detain minors pending transfer to juvenile authorities.
  4. To hold mentally ill people until they can be transferred to appropriate health facilities.
  5. To hold individuals for the military for protective custody, for contempt and for the courts as witnesses.
  6. To release convicted inmates to the community upon completion of a sentence.
  7. To transfer inmates to federal, state or other authorities.
  8. To house inmates for state or other authorities when prisons are overcrowded.
  9. To sometimes operate community-based programs as alternatives to incarceration.
  10. To hold inmates sentenced to short terms, generally of one year or less.”

P. 191

“The most prestigious units in many jail systems are the special squads that many sheriffs deploy, called CERT or SERT teams (Corrections or Sheriff’s Emergency Response Teams). Dressed in paramilitary black uniforms or camouflage fatigues and armed to the teeth with the latest supposedly nonlethal weapons, members of these teams are a carefully selected elite. They undergo elaborate weapons and physical training and stand ready around the clock in many facilities to quell not only riots, but any form of inmate unrest or disobedience.

Each year, the best get to strut their stuff and compete against one another at industry fairs, such as the Mock Prison Riot sponsored by the federal National Institute of Justice’s Office of Law Enforcement Technology Commercialization, which is held in a disused prison in Wheeling, West Virginia.”

P. 204

“One reason the city [of Buckeye, Arizona] was so anxious to expand its limits was that the U.S. Census Bureau counts inmates as if they were citizens of the towns and counties where they are incarcerated rather than of where they actually come from. More residents means more federal aid and grants. Buckeye stood to gain subsidies of $600 per inmate per year from the 2000 census. When this effect was multiplied across America, the result was to drain a significant amount of money away from inner cities, where most prisoners originate, to white, rural areas where most prisons are sited.

‘The near-doubling of the prison population since the last census and a rural prison boom during the 1990s portends a substantial transfer of economic and political power from urban to rural America,’ wrote criminologist Tracy Huling. ‘The prisoner “share” of the nearly $2 trillion in federal funds tied to population counts distributed nationwide over the next decade will go to the mostly rural hometowns of their keepers.’”

P. 204

“Moreover, since prisoners earn little or no money, they also artificially drive down average income rates, making towns and counties eligible for federal housing funds. Census figures are also used to redraw political boundaries. Even though most prisoners cannot vote, their presence helps boost the political clout of rural districts, most of which are staunchly conservative.”

January 4th, 2025

Saturday


Book: 

“Gates of Injustice” by Alan Elsner © 2006 excerpts:

P. 206

“Whether or not local communities reap the full benefit, there is no doubt that there is big money to be made in prisons. As recently as 1980, there were no private companies operating U.S. prisons and jails for profit. The change began in 1984 when Hamilton County, Tennessee, awarded a contract to Corrections Corporation of America (CCA) to run a jail. That year, the federal Immigration and Naturalization Service also turned to CCA to run a lockup in Houston. In 1985, Kentucky became the first state to hire a company to run a prison. Privatization picked up steam in 1987 when Texas awarded two 500-bed facilities to CCA and another two to Wackenhut Corrections Corporation, the other leader in the field.”

“True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It is not haphazard and superficial. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.”

–Martin Luther King, Jr.

P. 222

“What we see here is the emergence of a permanent criminal class. Prisoners are told to reform, but they are given few tools to do so. Once they are entangled in the prison system, many belong to it for life. They may spend stretches of time inside prison and periods outside, but they are never truly free. Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy commented, ‘A decent and free society, founded in respect for an individual, ought not to run a system with a sign at the entrance for inmates saying, “Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here.’”

P. 223

“In Los Angeles, thousands of parolees congregate in a 50-block area of downtown known as Skid Row, the largest concentration of homelessness in the United States. The unwary visitor who stumbles on this part of the city might be excused for thinking he had suddenly been transported to Bangladesh. Thousands of people live in makeshift tents or cardboard boxes on the streets or crowd into cheap hotels or flophouses. Prostitutes ply their trade, looking for enough money for their next fix. People urinate and defecate in public; flies swarm over foul-smelling streets. Los Angeles County makes little effort to deal with its homeless population, which may reach as high as 100,000 on any given night. The county offers only 14,000 beds in homeless shelters.”

“Remember those who are in prison as if you were in prison with them.” –Hebrews 3:13”

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Homophobia and The War On Women

December 30th, 2024

Monday

2:40pm

Tiger didn’t answer the phone when I called her for her birthday. The boys went to her party and said it was nice, so that’s good.

Zuko and I have been getting a lot of comments about us being together. She tells me that several people have told her they’re “Team Jess.” I laughed it off and thought that probably Zuko’s friends just don’t want her to be with nasty bitch Tyson, who reminds me of a satanic, abusive little elf, but then Daisy said that I’m giving Zuko the wrong impression, like I’m leading her on by being her friend. I have a hard time believing that. We’re just friends and I’ve made it clear to Zuko that I’m not gay. 

Then again, I feel like everybody is a little gay, and what if we were together? 

Who cares? 

Zuko has made it clear that she prefers monogamy, so it wouldn’t work anyway, but what’s the big deal?

Is Daisy a homophobe?

I just don’t understand. 

Daisy says that Zuko is using me to make Tyson jealous.

Hm. 

December 31st, 2024

Tuesday

3:29pm

Today Zuko took all of her notes and stuff from Tyson and put them in a bucket and poured water all over the whole mess. Then she ripped them up and threw them out. When I walked into the bathroom in the middle of this, she said, “Of course you would come in here.”

I don’t know what that means.

In other news, I got called into the new counselor’s office (used to be Ms. Reese, now Mr. Burns) because he was doing my parole vote sheet. He asked where I was going if I got out. I said I have to go to the Potter County Women’s Center. He said there was nothing like that on my status sheet and asked who told me that. 

I said a judge.

Then he said, “I hate getting these cases that are all fucked up,” and told me I could leave.

Okay, whatever dude.

Book:

“Gates of Injustice: The Crisis in America’s Prisons” by Alan Elsner © 2006

Excerpts:

P. 25

“‘Jails and prisons have become the final destination for the mentally ill in America–it’s the most pressing issue facing psychiatry today,’ said Steven Lamberti, a psychiatrist at the University of Rochester.

In 2000, the BJS estimated that around 16 percent of inmates in state prisons were mentally ill–191,000 individuals. Adding the federal prison system and county jails dramatically raises that number, probably to at least 300,000. With such numbers, an unbiased outsider could be forgiven for concluding that being mentally ill has itself become a crime in the United States.

In recent years, women have been the fastest growing sector of the prison system. For most of the 20th century, the United States had incarcerated only around 5,000 to 10,000 women. The number held in the state prisons passed the 100,000 mark in 2003. By mid-2004, the BJS found over 190,000 women held in prisons and jails, more than double the 1990 figure. Notes criminologist Meda Chesney-Lind, ‘The war against drugs was a largely unannounced war on women.’

Statistically, African American women were two-and-a-half times more likely than Hispanics and five times more likely than Hispanics and five times more likely as whites to end up behind bars. Even more alarmingly, around 65 percent of women in state prisons had children under 18; around 5 percent were pregnant when they entered.”

P. 26

“Children are some of the saddest invisible casualties of the U.S. prison binge. The BJS, in 2000, estimated that 721,500 of America’s prisoners, excluding jail inmates, were parents of at least one child, while at least 1.5 million children had a parent in prison. One in every 14 black children has a parent in prison on any given day, but of course, over the duration of an entire childhood, the figure is much higher. Children whose parents are incarcerated experience a broad range of problems, including rage, guilt, low self-esteem and depression. They are more likely to live in poverty, more likely to suffer abuse at the hands of caregivers, more likely to fail at school, more likely to take drugs and more likely to end up in juvenile jail. Half of all juveniles in custody have a parent or close relative in prison.”

6:50pm

Great. Zuko’s girlfriend is creating a lot of drama. 

Involving me.

People are saying Daisy should go to Med Line with me to protect me. 

Fuck that. 

This is great.

7:25pm

I survived Med Line. No one even said anything to me. I have a sneaking suspicion that Zuko likes drama.

I don’t.

She apologized to me in the bathroom.

I’ll never understand abusive relationships.

P. 29

“By 2000, over 650,000 prisoners a year were being released on parole or after completing their terms. A large number remained addicted to drugs and alcohol. Those who sincerely wanted to go straight faced crushing obstacles to rebuilding their lives. Many jobs and housing options were permanently closed to them; many social benefits were permanently denied. Little surprise that a BJS study found that over two-thirds of those released were rearrested within three years, either for parole violations or for new crimes.

While states struggled, thousands of businesses got fat off supplying prisons. As early as 1994, the Wall Street Journal proclaimed the birth of a ‘prison-industrial complex.’ The law enforcement technology industry, which produces high-tech items like the latest stab-proof vests, helmets, stun guns, sheilds, batons and chemical agents, is worth over $1 billion a year. With 2.3 million people engaged in catching criminals and putting and keeping them behind bars, accounting for a monthly payroll of $8.1 billion, the ‘correctional industry’ had become one of the largest sectors of the U.S. economy, employing more people than the combined worldwide workforces of General Motors, Ford and Wal-Mart, the three biggest corporate employers in the country. If a nation was defined by what it produced, the United States had become a prison nation.”

P. 32

“In the summer of 1971, four young professors conducted one of the most famous psychological studies ever devised–the Stanford Prison Experiment. The researchers, Philip Zimbardo, Craig Haney, W. Curtis Banks and David Jaffe, transformed a section in the basement of Stanford University’s psychology department into a mock prison.”

How It Worked

24 male college students volunteered.

They were randomly assigned to be either guards or prisoners.

A mock prison was set up in Stanford’s psychology department basement.

The study was planned to last two weeks.

Guards were given uniforms, mirrored sunglasses (to prevent eye contact), and authority. Prisoners were arrested at home, fingerprinted, and given numbers instead of names.

⚠️ What Happened

Things escalated quickly:

Guards began displaying authoritarian and abusive behaviors.

Prisoners showed signs of extreme stress, anxiety, and depression.

Some prisoners had emotional breakdowns within days.

Guards enforced humiliating punishments and psychological intimidation.

The environment became so intense that the experiment was terminated after only 6 days.

Outcome & Conclusions

Zimbardo concluded that:

Situational forces and social roles can strongly influence behavior.

Ordinary individuals can engage in cruel behavior when placed in positions of power.

Institutional settings (like prisons) can foster dehumanization.

The study became one of the most famous demonstrations of the power of social situations over individual personality.

P. 126-127

“In California, the State Auditor reported in 2001 that it cost the state $3.2 million a year to collect $5 co-payments for every visit to a prison doctor, while the program only generated $654,000 in income.”

P. 133

“In the past decade, women have been the fastest growing segment of the U.S. prison population. The number of women incarcerated in prisons or jails more than doubled, from 44,065 in 1990 to 103,310 by midyear 2004. Since 1995, the number of women in state or federal prisons has grown by an average of 5 percent a year–much higher than the 3.3 percent yearly increase in the male population.

9:55pm

Lights out.

People around here are saying they’re staying up for New Years. Two hours left of 2024.
Good riddance.

Martha made us party hats that say, “Happy New Year, bitches.”

I feel bad for Zuko.

She says she has to get out of this relationship carefully so she doesn’t get shipped to Cambridge Springs. 

Daisy says we have to come up with three resolutions for the new year–one spiritual, on physical, and one emotional. 

Emotional–be more emotionally vulnerable and open.

Physical–exercise at least once weekly.

Spiritual–pray more–once daily.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Commissary, Vicodin, and Nightmares

MUNCY STATE PRISON

December 3rd, 2024

Tuesday

9:30pm

We finally got Commissary today, after going without it for a week and a half. I drank too much coffee, pooped three times, and talked a lot. Previous to today, I had slept for a week, so I had some excess energy, which is new for me here. Usually, I feel like I’m slogging through every day, waiting for the next time I can lie down.

I’m wondering if I should write Mr. Big a letter apologizing for my last email to him, and telling him that I was manic and talking crazy. Probably I should. 

(I didn’t.)

I tried to call my lawyer today, but no answer. I called Gem, Motorcycle, Stryder (twice), and Paul. Paul didn’t answer and he had said that we have a video visit tomorrow, but it’s not on the schedule, so I asked Stryder to message him and ask what’s up.

Everything is so difficult here.

There are almost 100 people on this Unit, and over 1100 on the “campus” now. I don’t know why they call it a campus, it’s much more like a hostile military compound. 

I got another interview for Thursday. 

Daisy made a giant peanut butter/chocolate cookie roll today. She called it “Death by Chocolate” and Swiper said that’s the best way to die. My hips are killing me. I can’t even sit cross-legged anymore. I’m wondering how I’m ever going to have sex. Something’s gotta give. I need better pain control than Mobic, but the pills I was taking apparently make me an insane crazy person, and nobody prescribes narcotics anymore. Sometimes weed makes me think I’m Jesus and fall down a lot.

No.

Vicodin seems like the answer, but you can’t get it anywhere now, which is bullshit. I don’t ever want to be addicted to it again, but that takes a lot of effort. You don’t get addicted by taking one or two tablets a day. I wonder if my rheumatologist would prescribe it. I guess I’ll find out in a year. I can probably reestablish a relationship with him while I’m at the Women’s Center, but he probably would never prescribe them with my history of addiction.

It’s no wonder people use heroin.

It’s cheaper and easier to get than Vicodin.

Bullshit.

Also bullshit? Momma Bear chairing the AA/NA meetings on the Unit and then telling someone during a fight this morning to go get high. She’s supposed to be a role model, not someone who digs to the bottom of the garbage dumpster for insults about addicts.

I got new mascara today and Lolita gave me some Pink Oil, so I did my hair and face pretty. 

It made me feel better.

Lolita is leaving in 11 days. I wonder if she’d do an interview. Her story is crazy. She was kidnapped and held in a trap house basement for days and raped and beaten several times. Then a man was sent downstairs, presumably to rape her, and he felt sorry for her, so he came back the next day with a sawed-off shotgun to rescue her, but was killed by her captors.

Then they made her clean up the mess.

She was charged with something ridiculous like abuse of a corpse and accessory to homicide and served seven years in prison. She’s back on a technical parole violation for drinking alcohol.

Ridiculous.

December 4th, 2024

Wednesday

3:15am

Nightmares.

The kind where you wonder how your brain is so very imaginative.

Horrifying.

Stryder was in it.

In the nightmare I was was having nightmares, and he was the only one who cared enough to ask me to describe it to him.

But then he seemed evil too.

Do dreams really mean anything?

Last night when we were talking on the phone, he said he didn’t know if he wanted to set up a video visit, because when he saw me it would be hard not to fall in love with me again. 

In the dream, I got the distinct feeling that he was toying with me, the way a cat will torture a small animal to death before he devours it.

Is that what he’s doing?

Or does it mean nothing?

I’m tired, but I don’t want to go back to sleep. 

In another nightmare, I thought I woke up, and stood up to go over to some man I was with and cuddle him and tell him about my nightmare, but some laughing, evil spirit-lady was trying to invade my body. She kept laughing and giggling and saying that I couldn’t keep her out of me, no matter how hard I tried. I had the distinct feeling that she was my mental illness.

Bipolar disorder in a cackling, sinister apparition. 

Then I woke up again, or thought I did, and actually saw the wall I sleep next to, but I wasn’t awake at all.

I see prison walls in my nightmares.

When I realized I wasn’t really awake, and it was a trick, I summoned all of my strength to open my eyes. 

Who would’ve thought I’d be so glad to see a prison wall?

Same wall. 

I prayed to God twice today to get me out of here, but it’s no use. I’m just going to another prison. A much nicer prison, but still a prison. 2025 isn’t even here, and it’s already gone. This one-to-three year sentence turned into four. 

That’s how the “justice” system works.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

I have to push Ms. Grumpy Crabass all over creation tomorrow (today) in my new, surprisingly painful boots. I should’ve kept my old boots with holes in them. 

That’s the thing about prison–just when you think something better is going to happen, something much worse happens.

Prison Rule #1: Things can always get worse.

Like having the first decent day in a long time and then having nightmares all night following it.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

TEDx Talks, “Inshitivism,” and Toni Morrison

MUNCY STATE PRISON

November 25th, 2024

Monday

My reaction to Muncy TEDx Talks:

“Your mistakes don’t have to define you” and all of that is fine on its face, but none of those women have actually been to prison. Being an ex-con DOES define you forever, and that’s just reality. In the job market, whether you can go to college or do certain professions, in custody cases, even in getting housing in the future. We in REALITY, have many less opportunities than we did before. Do you think I’M going to be appointed by the governor and living my best life if I “make good choices” in the future?
That’s just bullshit.

What nobody’s addressing is that mass incarceration in the United States is real, and the system is rigged for recidivism. What nobody is saying is that what brings most women to prison is addiction, trauma, and mental illness, and THOSE AREN’T CHOICES.

November 26th, 2024

Kaylee’s birthday

Tuesday

New word: 

“Inshitivism”–a decline in business.

November 27th, 2024

Wednesday

4:16pm


We didn’t shop today, which really, REALLY sucks. Now we won’t go until Monday. I have no coffee or e-cigs.

Fuck.

Book: 

The Poets and Writers Complete Guide to Being a Writer: Everything You Need to Know About Craft, Inspiration, Agents, Publishing, and the Business of Building a Sustainable Writing Career © 2020

P, 4

“Toni Morrison was acutely aware of the writer’s unique ability to make sense of the great suffering inherent in the human experience. ‘Certain kinds of trauma visited on peoples are so deep, so cruel, that unlike money, unlike vengeance, even unlike justice, or rights, or the goodwill of others, only writers can translate such trauma and turn sorrow into meaning, sharpening the moral imagination,’ the Nobel laureate said upon accepting the 2008 PEN/Borders Literary Service Award in New York City.”

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Conquering Jess Kenley

November 15th, 2024

Friday

8pm

Motorcycle visited today. The only questions he asked me about myself were, “Are you okay?” and “How much do you weigh?”

The rest of the time he spent talking about his 50th class reunion that he attended last weekend. He’s lost a good 50lbs. 

He looks good.

No getting around the fact that he’ll be 68 in a month, though. I never realized before the freedom with which he uses the words “faggot” and “pussy” to describe other people. 

How did I never notice that?

When he told someone at the reunion that his “girl” was in prison, she said, “Do you really think that you need that at your age?” 

He replied, “I need her.”

Good answer, but is that true?

I know I don’t feel that way about any man. I’d be closer to saying that about Paul than Motorcycle.

Motorcycle even made a joke the other day on the phone and said, “I’m the man who finally conquered Jess Kenley.”

Paul would never say something like that. 

Like I am an non-thing, a prize to be won.

And he would never want to.. 

He loves me the way that I am, non-monogamy and all. 

And he prefers non-monogamy too. 

So what am I doing?

Did I just agree to monogamy because I’m in prison?

Daisy would probably say yes.

But how well does she know me?

I would say…I would say that I like the idea of monogamy, but not the practice of it. 

Not for me, anyway. 

I don’t care what other people do, but I gave it a quarter-century of my life, and it doesn’t work for me. 

No.

November 16th, 2024

Saturday

10:52am

Kimberly tried to pass Daisy some cheese from the kitchen today in front of a Sergeant and got caught. Daisy had to pull it out of her pants and throw it out. There was some speculation around the Block about whether Kimberly would lose her date, which is in six days, but they didn’t send her back from the kitchen, so I doubt it. Daisy didn’t get a misconduct, so I hope Kimberly doesn’t either.

Things with Swiper have been more friendly and less tense, but I’m still locking up my coffee and cigarettes in Daisy’s locker. I don’t trust Swiper as far as I could throw her. THings have been better with Bambi, too, which is nice.

Benson Boone is singing on the radio, “Please, stay. I want you, I need you, Oh God…” while Daisy, Morocco, and Swiper discuss what library books they got this morning. I couldn’t go to the Library yesterday because of my visit, so Daisy got me, “Children of the State: Stories of Survival and Hope in the Juvenile Justice System,” by Jeff Hobbs, © 2023

That was nice of her. 

I also found “Organizing for Social Change: Midwest Academy Manual for Activists”  Third Edition, © 2001 on the bookshelf downstairs. 

I talked to Gem this morning. We have some new CO who doesn’t know our names, so I was able to get on the phone. Gem tested negative for leukemia, but has to see a GI specialist about some open duct in her pancreas that makes her at higher risk for pancreatic cancer.

“Control to all areas: Conduct Count, Conduct Count!”

Stand to be counted, sit.

Chicken tetrazzini for lunch. 

Gross.
I’m pushing Ms. Moon to lunch. Momo in the next cube is smashing up Ramen noodles because lunch is not worth the walk. Soggy spaghetti noodles with canned chicken chunks and peas in a white sauce of unknown origin.

On the Daily Download with Carson Daly: “If the world is ending, I’d wanna be next to yoooooouuuuuuu…” 

Dismal.

12:38pm

Uh oh. 

Two of Cinnamon’s e-cigarettes were stolen from her locker  while she was on a visit. She thinks Morocco did it.

4:03pm

Nothing makes me feel more useless than knowing that one of my children is in pain and being helpless to stop it because  I am sitting in fucking prison a million miles away. 

King answered the phone with a forlorn, tiny, “Hello?” I immediately asked what was wrong. He sounded close to tears. All he said was, “Superman…”

It hurt my heart.

Then, after the pain–rage.

Rage that this horrible system that separates mothers from their children arbitrarily and with impunity, and rage at myself for being helpless to extricate myself from its clutches.

It reminds me of a Gary Paulsen story from his Iditarod dog sledding days when he came upon a pack of wolves who had disemboweled a doe deer and proceeded to eat her while she was still standing, alive. Feebly, he said, “Leave her…” but it was too late. 

She was moribund, bound for death.

The alpha male pulled his bloody head from her abdominal cavity and regarded Paulsen fearlessly for a moment before continuing to tear her apart.

I am that doe.

6:40pm

Lockdown.

The rumor is that J Unit is on fire and there was a fight on S, so there’s no available staff. 

It’s a full harvest moon tonight.

No kidding.

7:46pm

Lockdown lifted.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Homelessness, Character Assassination, and Valentine’s Day

WOMEN’S CENTER

February 12th, 2018

Day 224

Monday

8am

On my way to Smethport to see my therapist. I got into a fight with my mother yesterday during the visit. I had to ask her if I could come live in the apartment they built for me and the twins when they were born. Of course she said no, and then proceeded to berate me for the rest of the visit on “taking responsibility.”

God.

Like I need to hear it from her. 

That’s all I hear about from anybody these days. She said, “Look at my face, Jessica! I’m exhausted! Your father is exhausted!”

Anyway, we have Christian Radio Driver. He’s so nice.

I have a weird situation at work: there are two guys fighting over me, and I wouldn’t date either of them. One is 23 and the other is 47. They both are kind of awkward and goofy-looking, and I’m nice to them, which is probably why they’ve attached to me. They both asked me out on Saturday, to which I said no to both; and then they proceeded to get into a fight in front of me about each others’ respective ages, one insisting that the other was as old as the hills, and the other saying that the other was an infant.

Then they both seemed like infants to me. 

How dumb.

Two grown men fighting over an unavailable woman. The 47-year old made me a flower out of twist-ties that was surprisingly intricate, and the 23-year old asked to have lunch with me and walk me out at the end of the day. 

Ugh.

I feel like I have to “break up” with both of them, and we’re not even dating!

How stupid.

In other news, my new med, Sulfasalazine, is seeming to be working wonders–my body barely hurts after work except for my feet, and even they don’t hurt as much as they used to. 

Of course Mr. Big wouldn’t let me keep my comfy mattress when he moved my room (again), so I’m pretty sore in the mornings again. I told him that I called him a jerk several times in my journals when he asked me if I was “character assassinating” him, and he called me immature.

I’ll take it.

I do like him a lot more than I did at first–sometimes he gives very good advice, and he’s smart and funny–but he still can be a jerk at times. Like everybody, I suppose. I think I’m developing a slight crush on him, actually. Maybe more than slight…

I hope I don’t turn into Tori–she seems to be hopelessly infatuated with him and asks me and Nickolai all of the time if we think he “likes” her [in a romantic way]. I just tell her that even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it–he would lose his job if he did. 

Speaking of Tori and Nickolai–they’ve invited me to get an apartment with them–which seems like an Act Of God at this point–I really don’t have any other options except living with Ken, and I wouldn’t be able to have my kids there. 

That fight with my mother is weighing heavily on my mind–all of the things she said keep going around and around in my head–she’s such a fucking bitch. She just took the opportunity to say every nasty thing that she’s thought about for the past year that she wasn’t speaking to me in.

Also, I worry a lot about Nikolai and Tori using–they are both heroin addicts. We would have to have an iron-clad agreement about absolutely no drugs. Drugs would be an absolute disaster for all of us–we all have children to think about.
God, I hope this works out.

Hopefully, I would get out in April, and live in our shared apartment until June, and then they would move in. We’ll have to talk about money because they will have to be helping for the months of May and June…I hope it doesn’t get too complicated. 

They both have applications in to Medplast–I hope they can do it. Of course I feel like if I can do it, anybody can.

11am

Therapy went fine. We didn’t do any EMDR because I was so busy bitching about my week…or my mother, rather. She’s what I talked about the most, I guess. She has a way of getting under my skin and just sitting there, festering, like a boil.

I hate that. 

Her words always have this sting to them that can hurt me more than anybody else’s. 

Anyway, I figure that I’ll be making $1184 per month, so if Tori, Nikolai, and I all work full time, we can make $3552/month. If Nikolai doesn’t work, Tori and I will make $2368/month. I figure the average three bedroom is $700/month, so that should be manageable. I need to get a newspaper and look at the listings for apartments. We’re picking up Nickolai at the hospital, so I’ll look there and see if they have a paper. 

February 13th, 2018

Day 225

Tuesday

9am

On my way to Crossroads for group. I missed my individual yesterday because The Big Boss forgot to schedule transportation for me, but I didn’t mind too much. It was nice to have some down time.

While I was transcribing my journal onto a flashdrive, Mr. Big walked in, and I told him that I officially withdrew my application for senior resident because it’s been two months without hearing anything, and he said, “You can’t. You already are senior resident.”

Nice. 

He could’ve told me!

 I’m excited about the opportunity, though. He said we’ll go over today what it entails, so that’s pretty cool.

In other news, I got Lilly a Guardian Ad Litem appointed for her without having to go to court, so that’s more good news.

I’m not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow–there are now two guys that are after me, neither of which I would date. They actually got into an argument over me in front of me, which was embarrassing, like I am a piece of meat to be sold at auction and not an autonomous human being who makes decisions of her own accord. I wonder what they would think if they knew that the decision simply wasn’t up to them, duh!

It’s up to ME!

Idiots.

Idiots abound everywhere.

Treating women like this–Well, I Never.

12pm

Group is over. I talked about how worried I was over this moving in thing with Tori and Nikolai. There’s a lot that could go wrong. I just really, really, really hope it works out. 

Now I have to wait for Tori to get out of individual therapy. They always have the worst music in this waiting room. 

It’s very nice and sunshiney out today. On the walls here it says things like, “Be joyful!” and, “Life doesn’t get easier, we get stronger.”

Life does seem ridiculously hard sometimes. I’m cautiously excited about leaving the Women’s Center, even though I don’t know when I’m leaving yet. 

I hope to God I can leave in April.

More signs: 

“One Day At A Time,” and “Happiness comes from your thoughts.”

Does it?

The one day at a time sign reminds me of Sandra Bullock in the movie “28 Days,” saying, “What is that?! Like taking two, three days at a time is an option?!”

Funny.

Today must be the day that Elvis died or something. The radio keeps playing news clips about his death. 

Oh, bad 70’s music–”Sooner or later, love is gonna win…”

Coming here makes me want to check my Facebook something fierce. Everybody is always on their phones. No phone for me. I guess that’s addicts for you. Gotta be addicted to something. 

I miss my phone so much.

I can’t even get into it now because Ike put a number password on it for some reason and I don’t remember it. 

I sure don’t miss him.

There’s a poor beta fish behind the glass in this waiting room with less than a piece of paper’s worth of space to spin around in. And he’ll probably spend his whole life in that space, poor thing. Why do we cage other creatures all of the time? Why can’t we just let them be? 

I wonder if fish ever commit suicide?

I know there have been cases of dogs and horses doing it. 

Mr. Big showed me a video on his phone of a whale exploding today because Tori and I were talking about spontaneous combustion. 

Gross and bizarre.

I just wish I had a crystal ball to tell me what is going to happen in the future. 

The group therapist says that, statistically, Tori, Nickolai, and I have a low probability of “making it,” which I assume means staying clean. 

I so hope it works out. 

I have to stop obsessing about it. 

And catastrophizing about the situation. 

I’m good at that. 

“Don’t you want somebody to love”–on the radio– why, no, I don’t. What a pain in the ass romantic relationships are. Now I have to “break up” with these guys tomorrow, or at least set them straight. 

Speaking of straight, maybe I’ll tell them that I’m gay! They would probably just be like, “Challenge accepted!” based on their past behavior of pursuing me even though I haven’t expressed the slightest bit of interest in them. 

OMG tomorrow is Valentine’s Day!!!!

Oh NO.

Oh MAN!!

What if they got me things??!

FUCK!

FML. 

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Prison Blog #10–You’re Welcome

MUNCY STATE PRISON

October 13th, 2024

Sunday

BLOG # 10

Neither Here Nor There: Musings from the Other Side (of the Razor Wire Fence)

So, we’re already dreaming about our big plans when we get out of this Hellhole–Kimberly says the first things she’s going to do is suck a dick.

Aim high, sis.

Daisy says she’s going to get a pig that will ride shotgun with her wearing a gold necklace. His name will either be Notorious P.I.G., Piggy Smalls, or Kevin Bacon. 

And me, well, I just want to have normal bowel movements again. I went to the bathroom the other day to give Zuko her yarn, and then I went into a stall for what I thought was to take a pee. Out of nowhere, I had surprise diarrhea! Frantically, I courtesy-flushed so Zuko wouldn’t hear all of the gross noises, and then I zoomed out of the stall before the stink would spread. Zuko was washing her hands and didn’t say a word.

When I told Kimberly, she sighed and said, all starry-eyed, “I want a love like that.”

Ew. 

Then the following night, I dreamed that I had diarrhea in public in front of everyone, and woke up convinced that I had pooped my pants. 

I didn’t, thank God.

Speaking of dreams, there is now such a thing as being a “dream-whore,” where you dream of sleeping with everyone. Other prison terms include “hyper-wiper,” which is wiping in overdrive because prison toilet-tissue is only one-ply, and “clitty-litter,” which is what some people here call the toilet paper. 

In other news, Dausy has been insisting that I file off a giant callous on my big toe, because it is disgusting and deforming my foot. She yelled, “You need to cut off your toes, because they’re gross!” and then attacked the callous with a razor. She says now our friendship has reached a whole new level.

She also says her own big toe has grown its own set of pubes. 

Jail makes everyone gross, I guess. 

Speaking of gross, Kimberly says that the downstairs bathroom smells like a fish who shit himself before he died.

In Swiper news, she scratched off her right eyebrow in her sleep last night, so when I found a grape juice packet that Swiper had put in my orange-juice-only packet area on my bunk, Daisy exclaimed, “Rip her other eyebrow off, Justine!”

Super funny. 

Also funny, I talked to Paul today. Whenever the automated recording interrupts our conversation, he screams over it, “NOT NOW, LINDA!!” 

Anyway, he said he bought a cock ring and he’s going to wear it to come visit me at the Women’s Center. 

Fun Times.

In other news, I asked Kimberly where she was going to other day, and she said, “To wash my ass,” which prompted Daisy to start singing the song “Push It” except with the words “Wash It”–like this—

“Wash it!

Wash it good! 

Wh- wash it real good!”

And finally, Kelly orchestrated an AA meeting in the Day Room, so I attended. When I cam back upstairs, this not was on my bed from Daisy:

“I saw you smiling with your AA friends. 

I threw up!

And Kimberly too!

I think our friendship has reached a whole new level.