«Child Porn» Redo
The «Incident Report» that they used as an excuse to «punish» me for having so-called «child porn» in my cell (that was really just a picture I received in a letter of a professional child model wearing no shirt for a perfume ad in Vogue magazine) got «returned» to the UDC (Unit Disciplinary Committee) because it was only a «300 level» (not serious) write up, and it was the first write up I ever got at any level. The UDC originally referred it to the DHO (Disciplinary Hearing Officer) so he could impose a more serious sanction than the UDC were allowed to (I ended up losing four months of phone and commissary «privileges», in addition to a $75 «fine», which was all the money I had in my account at the time).

The only real difference is that the UDC is not allowed to impose a monetary fine. So, I got my $75 returned. But, the UDC (Unit staff) still found me «guilty», and additionally claimed in their «reasons for findings» that the child was «nude», which she was not at all (she had pants on, and was much too young to have breasts to «display»). I truly think «they» (B.O.P. staff) were hoping that I'd drop my appeals (and lawsuit) if they let me have the money back. They can't give me back the four months of not being able to call my family (mom and girlfriend) or being able to buy coffee or even salt for my food. So they imposed that as «time served».

Of course I appealed (it's not about the money or the punishment; it's about them ignoring their own rules and regulations and creating a false record --- that says I had «child porn» in my cell --- that can and likely will be used against me in court some day!). In fact, I filed three separate issues of appeal: One, that the UDC falsely claimed the child was nude; Two, that the picture was issued to me in an opened an inspected letter, so I had no reason to think I was not allowed to have it; and Three, that the picture does not in fact violate any rules of policies (or laws, needless to say).

But, the second and third issues were not accepted on appeal. Only the first issue was processed, and eventually (nonsensically) denied (of course). The other issues, which are directly supported by B.O.P. policies, were simply ignored. Apparently, even the forms I submitted for these issues were just discarded, and not even officially «rejected» or anything.

So now technically I can't even appeal these other issues to the Regional Office level because policy says I can only further appeal issues that are in the original appeal! So they seem to be trying to block my appeal (in much the same way they did the first time when I tried to appeal the original DHO decision). All I can, and will, do is file a complaint to the Regional Office against the institution for (again) refusing to process my appeals, and hope the Regional Office eventually forces them to process all the issues of my appeal the way they did last time. I really don't care whether they grant or deny my appeals based on the issues I raised, since I can't be «punished» any more than I already have. But, I need some sort of response one way or another for the lawsuit that my attorney is helping me file for violating my (so-called) «due process» rights --- which, even after they have been watered down by the courts for prison discipline, are supposed to keep prison staff from arbitrarily punishing me like this, just because I'm a «sex offender» («special restrictions can be applied for «sex offenders», but only at special «SOMP» (Sex Offender Management Program) institutions, and only after the «offender» is told what the «special restrictions» are; I was never told about any special restrictions on me or my mail, before or since this «incident»).

So, the ordeal of my appeals being all over again (I must «exhaust» all institutional «remedies» and appeals before I can go to a Federal judge with a lawsuit); such we call «the workings of justice».

So Much For Security (Guard and Inmate Stabbed on Death Row)
On Thursday, February 4, 2016, shortly after I had met with the Regional B.O.P. investigator about being denied formal redress (see "Child Porn" Saga Continues), a guard and the prisoner he was escorting in handcuffs, were both attacked and stabbed by a prisoner who was «accidently» let out of his cell unrestrained, here on death row. The unit was consequently locked down, and now rumor has it that changes on how this unit is run are coming down the «pipe» from the Regional office (perhaps because there was an investigator here from Regional when the «incident» happened). Several guards have already been removed from this unit (SCU, a.k.a. «death row»), and more rumors say the guard who «acciently» opened the wrong cell door was fired.

The big problem with this whole «incident» should be fairly obvious. The attack happened on the range (hallway of cells) directly below the one where I am celled, so I'm not personally familiar with the prisoners down there, though the prisoner who got stabbed is a «co-defendant» (crime partner of one of the prisoners on my range who I am familiar with (and get along with). The «word» is that the prisoner who got stabbed had complained several times about the other prisoner threatening him (i.e. he is a «rat»). So, the odds that the other prisoner's door got opened by «accident» just as the rat was being escorted past, is slim; and the fact that the attacked appeared to be ready for the «accident» to happen, with home-made knife (shank) in hand, ready to attack as soon when his door opened, is a pretty good indication that he wasn't the only one who wanted to hurt the rat.

The guard who «accidentally» opened the wrong door, and more than likely the guard who ended up getting stabbed while escorting the rat, had to be in on the attack. They probably told the prisoner to be ready for his door to open «accidetally» (this kind of «information exchange» happens often between guards and the prisoners they are «familiar» with – all sorts of rules are in place that are meant to prevent it, but it is one of those «human nature» things that no amount of rules or laws will ever stop). One of the guards could have simply whispered in the prisoner's cell, «Hey, if your door opens accidentally when the rat comes back from rec, don't do anything 'stupid'», which of course means, «Be ready».

The guards probably thought they were being «cool», and having some «fun» at the same time (a lot of guards thrive on violence even more than the prisoners – so they create situations like this so they can «do their job», and look like heroes, I suppose). But, I doubt if they expeted their patsy to come out of the cell armed with a shank! So the whole thing backfired, and even got the guard who was escorting the rat stabbed as he tried to «restrain» the attacker (this guard may or may not have been «in» on the «fun» - but the guard who «accidentally» opened the wrong door was definitely «in» on it).

So now changes are coming. The «rules» have failed once again (as they always do eventually), so now more rules will have to be made (the rulemakers – i.e. pharisees – never seem to realize that the rules never actually «fail», they just never work in the first place, and only appear to work at all by sheer chance, until the next «incident» occurs and more rules «need» to be made). The «up shot» is that all the other prisoners on death row will now loose more «privileges» and suffer more restrictions (i.e. «security measures») as a result (the new «rules» invariably only end up «punishing» the prisoners who had nothing to do with what happened). They've already assigned two fulltime lieutenants (one for day shift and one for swing) to the SCU, which is a small unit that never needed its own Lts before now. So, unless the new Lts plan on twiddling their thumbs all day and getting paid for it, they're most likely going to create some excitement of their own, to make themselves feel like «heroes» (i.e. useful) too. And that's not good for the prisoners... it never is. (As I heard the rat's co-defendant say – who himself is a solid convict as far as I'm concerned - «Shit rolls downhill, and we're at the bottom of the hill!»)

«Child Porn» Saga Continues
Last year I was «disciplined» harshly, and fined $75, because of a picture of a prepubescent French model from Vogue magazine that I received in an opened and inspected letter through the regular inmate mail. Because she was shirtless, the guard who wrote me up thought it was «child porn», which it was not by any legal definition or prison policy.

I was consequently found guilty for having «unauthorized items» (Prison rule #305) and sanctioned to a loss of several «privileges» for four months. The DHO (Disciplinary Hearing Officer) also took all the money I had in my inmate account at the time as well.

In the DHO's official report he side-stepped the hard evidence (i.e. that the picture was issued to me in an inspected letter by staff, and did not violate any laws or prison privileges) and justified his guilty verdict by claiming special rules applied to me because I am a «sex offender» with crimes against children.

I, of course, appealed his decision, but even before I filed my appeal, I submitted an official complaint against the DHO for failing to comply with prison policy and Federal laws, and deliberately violating my (so-called) constitutional right to a «fair and impartial» hearing. My complaint was rejected by the prison administration seven times for false reasons. Each time I re-submitted my complaint with documented evidence that refuted the supposed reason it had been rejected.

I suspet that someone in administration was either protecting the DHO from having his conduct officially investigated, or they were protecting the warden, whose job it was to respond to the complaint, from a possible law suit (if he supported the DHO's decision to find me guilty, then it becomes a conspiracy to deny my constitutional rights, and the warden would be the prime conspirator). So, according to policy, I submitted a complaint to the Regional B.O.P. office, not against the DHO, but against the prison staff who rejected my complaint without a legitimate reason.

I submitted this «rejection appeal» with copies of all the documentation that showed my original complaint was submitted properly seven times over and was excessively clear in nature. I even provided a typed two-page summary that listed every submission, rejection, and other documented attempts to have my complaint heard (even asking the warden in person during his «walk-through»). The Regional office responded by saying it would «investigate», but it didn't say what it would investigate, nor when I should expect a response from the investigation. (As it turns out, inmates are never appraised of the results of such «investigations», unless they sue and get a court ordered subpoena; so there is no way for prisoners to have their complaint satisfied unless they sue, and they can't sue until they've «exhausted all attempts to have the complaint resolved at the institutional level»: Go figure).

Because my original complaint against the DHO was still not being addressed, and prison policy has strict time limits (20 to 30 days) for filing complaints (after which they are rejected automatically as «untimely»), I was forced to submit my «rjection appeal» to the Central B.O.P. office in Washington D.C.. Even this submission was rejected twice, before finally being «accepted» (for consideration), even though it too was properly submitted each time (the third time i submitted it with a three-page letter explaining to THEM what THEIR policies said that made the submission proper in all regards). The Central office accepted the rejection appeal, AND extended the time they had to respond, on the same day. The last time I submitted an appeal to the Central office (the actual disciplinary appeal concerning the same «child porn» B.S.) they did the same thing (accept and extend the response time on the same day) and then they never responded at all after the extended response date lapsed (that was six months ago). (P.S. I submitted the disciplinary appeal, and the complaint against the DHO's «unconstitutional conduct» separately on the advice of my lawyer, in order to prevent the B.O.P. lawyers from claiming that my disciplinary appeal did not address the issue of the DHO's «unconstitutional conduct». In other words, my lawyer and I are making double sure that the B.O.P. has every opportunity to «resolve the issue» before we take the case to a Federal judge, so the B.O.P. can't claim they never had a chance to «address the problem», i.e. legal gobbledegook.)

In the meantime, last week (the same day that a guard and a prisoner both got stabbed by another prisoner here on death row, in fact, I was escorted back to my cell just moments before the stabbing occured – see "So Much For Security"), an investigator from the Regional office finally did show up and asked me about all those rejection notices from the prison concerning my original complaint against the DHO. I was told the guard who came to get me for the interview that «Unit Team» wanted to see me. Since I'm not scheduled to see «Unit Team» for at least two more months, I knew something was amiss. So I explicitly asked what for, so I could bring any paperwork I needed with me (if I had known the truth, that it was an investigator from the Regional office, then I could have brought a whole stack of paperwork that documented in detail all my efforts to have my complaint heard, and all my evidence against the DHO). The guard told me he didn't know (another lie). So I put my hands through the slot in my door to let him cuff me (behind my back) and then they opened the door and escorted me to the attorney visiting room (which I had never been in or even seen before) where the investigator was waiting for me.

I didn't catch his name, but he seemed courteous and professional, which was a good sign. He also appeared to be at least cursorily familiar with not only the paperwork I submitted (which he had with him), but also other aspects of the case (such as the DHO's report, which I had not submitted to the Regional office because it was not directly relevant to the reason for the unjustified rejections). We spoke for over an hour as he very meticulously went over every rejection and my responses, using the two-page summary I submitted as a guideline.

He proposed a few different times that it appeared as though the clerk who was responsible for processing my complaints, and who ultimately rejected it seven times, must have been confused since it was so atypical. And, each time he did so I was careful to respectfully conceed his point, saying that yes, I thought the same thing even, but then how did the clerk miss all the bold lettering, highlighted texts, and direct policy quotes that I provided over and over in each response. I told the investigator that there «appeared» to be only two explanations; either the clerk was deliberately rejecting the complaint for invented reasons, or she was incompetent in her job. The investigator actually opened his mouth to retort my observation, but then nothing came out. Judging by the way his eyes flickered back and forth at this moment it appeared as though he tried to, but couldn't, come up with an argument against that one.

In the end, he told me that I would not be appraised of the outcome of his «investigation»; but, if the warden contacted me in regards to my complaint against the DHO, then I would at least know the result. I got the impression that that was what he was thinking should happen (i.e. he seemed to concur that all the facts I had presented in my case were consistent and correct, which meant my original complaint against the DHO had in truth been unfairly rejected, for whatever reason). In fact, by the end of the interview we had become so cordial that I even told him about my plans to propose marriage to my girlfriend; news that he seemed to respectfully appreciate (I have since proposed, and she said, «Yes!»). He even asked a few polite questions about the engagement ring, and how we planned to get married, before he got up and signaled the guard waiting outside in the hall to take me back to my cell.

I truly appreciated the way the interview ended on such an unofficial and cordial note. I thanked him for his time and returned to my cell.

Typical Shit
I got a response from the Regional Director on the appeal I filed concerning the excessive sanction I got for telling Unit Team staff that they were “pieces of shit” (for screwing me over to my face and then lying to make it look like I was screwing myself over [see: "Pieces of Shit"]. My appeal very specifically requested, not that the sanction be reduced (from 120 days, or four months, of no personal phone calls), but only that the excessiveness of the sanction be somehow justified (since the infraction was my first in the five years I've been here, and the behavior --- i.e. using the word, “shit” --- was barely an “offense” at all).

The Director “denied” my appeal, and instead “referred” the hypothetical circumstance that I used in the appeal itself (where I tried to point out that with no justification for the sanction then it could easily be retaliation) to the “appropriate office for review and appropriate action” as “allegations of staff misconduct”.

In other words, they turned my appeal into an “allegation” against staff, which it was not. I know from many years of experience in the System that staff allegations almost invariably get turned against the prisoner making the allegation unless the prisoner has solid proof (which all staff learn quickly how not to provide and/or conceal). So, I “implied” possible staff misconduct (to support my argument for a justification of the sanction), but I deliberately made no actual accusation.


And now Unit Team staff are already giving me an even colder shoulder than usual, no doubt because they think I “reported” them for “misconduct”, even though I didn't (at least, not officially --- because it's only the “official” reports that matter to them).

And because the Regional Director made my accusation “official” (even though it wasn't made that way by me), it can be used to “weaken” any
official allegations I make in the future, even if I have strong proof (such is the case with my allegations of unconstitutional conduct by the Disciplinary Hearing Officer for finding me guilty of having “child porn” in my cell even though there was no “porn” at all in my cell, and the picture he called “child porn” was issued to me in an opened and inspected letter and did not violate any laws or B.O.P. policies --- he only found me “guilty” and sanctioned me severely, including a $75 fine, because he personally found the picture “offensive” --- see: "Child Porn" Found In My Cell... Again). And “they” know this, which I'm sure is the only reason they made the “accusation” official at all. It's just another example of how the system does injustice in order to sustain the illusion of a need for justice.

Supreme Court Appeal
My lawyer told me that he is filing an appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court concerning my three Federal death sentences. It is extremely unlikely --- less than a tenth of one percent chance --- that the Supreme Court will even consider the appeal (“crapshoot justice” in action).

The issue my attorney wants the Supreme Court to consider is whether or not someone (generally, but me specifically) should be executed without a review of all the available facts and evidence at the time of trial. My lawyer claims that my case creates a definitive standard, not only because I declined to appeal (on my own behalf), but also because when I represented myself at the sentencing trial (after I plead guilty against my attorney's advice to all charges with no conditions or “deals” with the persecutors) I did not present any mitigating evidence or testimony.

So, basically, what my lawyer is asking the Supreme Court to consider is whether or not “we” (the people) should kill someone after essentially only hearing one side (the persecutor's side) of the story.

As I mentioned, it's not very likely that the Supreme Court will even consider this question (they get to pick and choose what questions are “worthy” of their esteemed consideration), but submitting the question --- any question the “defense” lawyers can come up with really --- is just the next step, of many remaining, in the systematic process of killing someone in this country.

Revisiting "Pieces of Shit"
A few months ago, out of sheer frustration over being screwed so badly by Unit Team staff again, I told them, “You're the pieces of shit, not me.” So, I was written up for “prohibited act 404” (using abusive language), consequently found guilty by the Unit Manager, and sanctioned the loss of “phone privileges” for 120 days.

That means four months of not being able to call my lawyer, my mom, or my girlfriend, just because I said the word “shit” out of frustration over being unfairly treated. I don't call my girlfriend that often because she lives outside of the United States of America (it costs me $15 dollars just to talk to her for 15 minutes; which, needless to say, means I simply can't afford to call her as often as I'd like). It is also expensive to call my mom ($3 dollars for 15 minutes), even though she does live in the states, and even the most expensive phone service providers wouldn't charge more than 50 cents for the same call from a payphone! And, since my mother is aged and forgetful, calling her is really the only way I have to keep in touch with her, because she rarely ever remembers to write, even when I send her stamps and paper to do so. She loves it when I call though.

Since I have been on “phone restriction” (amongst other things) for the last four months already, because of another completely unfair write up that I got for having a picture in my cell of a little girl (prepubescent) wearing no shirt (so, according to the B.O.P., she is “displaying her breasts”, quoting the Regional Direction, Paul M. Laird, himself!) I haven't heard from my mom at all since April! (Fortunately, I have a wonderful girlfriend who calls her for me to let my mom know I'm okay, and to let me know how my mom's doing as well.)

This sort of unfair treatment is unfortunately very much the standard for how things operate around here, and in any American prison for that matter. Just ask anyone in prison and they'll tell you. Or, if you don't want to ask, just look up one of the many “sense of justice”-studies that have been done. These studies are usually state-funded, because they show a direct correlation between prisoners who feel unfairly treated and recidivism. But, don't bother asking a prison employee. Their job --- not to mention their moral sanity --- depends on their belief in the “fairness” and “justice” of the System they work for.

Prison employees routinely misuse the stats from the same studies I just mentioned in order to justify even more unfair treatment of prisoners. To them, it is all fair – merely because they're the authority. And in their minds (again, out of sheer necessity) authority is never wrong (or unfair). So, if more than 90% of the prisoners complain of unfair treatment (as the studies consistently show), then that only proves (in their mind) that 90% of the prisoners are liars, who deserve to be “punished” in general. They even invented a term for it; they call it “criminal mentality” (which, of course is rationalized exactly the same way “Jewish mentality” or “Negro mentality” was rationalized in the past). Thus, they feel licensed to treat prisoners as unfairly as they want; because they deserve it!

I think the ridiciously excessive sanction I got for using the word “shit” to express my frustration over unfair treatment is a pretty good example of this kind of oppressive reasoning. The Unit Manager didn't give any reason at all for the severity of the sanction. So, maybe he's punishing me because a few weeks before I accused him (without using abusive language) of being a hypocrite and a liar because he is always going around preaching about how he follows the rules, but then he selects what rules to follow and ignores the ones that are inconvenient for him to follow (as most bureaucrats do). At the time he did not reply to my accusation, but just walked away. So maybe now he is “punishing” me for “not respecting authority” (a VERY popular excuse for “punishing” prisoners without apparent cause). In his mind, he is no doubt just giving me the “punishment” I “deserve” (for not respecting his authority). But, to me, it seems as though I am being “punished” harshly for merely blurting out the word “shit”. To me, it seems extremely unfair.

Who knows? Maybe he is being fair. But, that doesn't matter if I can't see the fairness in it. And I'd be willing to “see” it, if there was even so much as a clue of it. But, there is no clue, no evidence of fairness, and for me, no justice at all in the sanction. So, I appealed it to the warden. In my appeal, I simply asked for an explanation for the excessive sanction. The warden “denied” my appeal. So, I appealed to the Regional Director (in Kansas City, Kansas), asking the same thing, “Why am I being punished so harshly without explanation?”

The Regional Director responded by sending a memo to the Unit Manager pointing out that he had made a minor (and completely irrelevant) clerical error in the paperwork from the disciplinary hearing. (He failed to say explicitly why I was “guilty” --- even though I openly admitted that I said the word “shit”. Apparently, my statement alone was not considered “evidence” of my guilt – remember, 90% of all inmates are liars --- so the Unit Manager was required to write in that his findings were based on “staff witness statements”.) So, the Unit Manager had to call me back to his office for a new hearing in order to correct the error.

And thus their precious “illusion of justice” is sustained (I actually heard the Federal judge in my case say once, “It is important that the appearance of justice be maintained”, as an excuse for denying a petition that one of my lawyers had made!). My appeal was returned for a new hearing, and that makes their statistics look good (i.e. the number of appeals that get action instead of just being denied). Nevermind that it was “returned” for a reason that had absolutely nothing to do with the issue of the appeal itself. And nevermind that they completely ignored the one issue I raised in the appeal (“Why am I being punished without clear cause?”). It only matters to them that “the appearance of justice (fairness) is maintained”. It is the “M.O.” of the “Justice System”. Not justice; but, only the appearance of justice is what matters. It is what every official in the “Justice System” is expected to do in order to earn their paychecks. And, as the Federal judge in my case clearly demonstrated by his bold statement in court, they don't even realize the difference!

(My brother was a wannabe-cop, which really strained my relationship with him after I got out of prison; but, I tried really hard to love him regardless. Once, during a rare conversation with him while I was on parole in Seattle, in which he was openly criticizing “criminals” as deserving everything they got, I pointed out to him that when we were kids (and inseparable) he did all the criminal things I did --- often with no encouragement from me --- including child “rape” (i.e. putting his penis in a younger child's mouth). His response totally confused me at the time, and didn't seem to make any sense. But, he said it as though it made all the sense in the world; he said, “Sure, but I didn't get caught!” I'm only now, all these years later, coming to understand what he was saying, or more correctly: what he WASN'T SEEING. Like anyone else who believes in human justice, he had been conditioned to see no difference between how things “appear” on the surface, and how things really are. To him, the truth is what you believe, not what is. This is necessary for any system of beliefs to be maintained --- and the Criminal Justice System is no more than a system of beliefs; it is a religion, in the truest sense; and with all the hypocrisy and violence that goes along with any religion!)

What do they suppose my reaction to all this unfairness is going to be? I can only imagine that they imagine I will “learn my lesson”, and perhaps “respect (their) authority” in the future. Anyone reading this blog (hopefully) realizes that that isn't going to happen anytime soon. The only thing I'm going to learn, and the only thing any prisoner learns from being so screwed so often (treated unfairly) by the system (and hence, by “authority”), is that if justice is to be had, then it must be taken for oneself. It certainly isn't going to come from the “Just-Us System”.

So, the system is literally teaching --- in fact, training! --- criminals to resist the system, to seek justice on their own terms, and to take what they deserve from anyone who supports the “system” (i.e. “law-abiding citizens”). For me, that meant taking revenge. For others, it means taking control back in some other way. But, as long as “they” keep giving criminals what they “deserve” (e.g. punishing us for no reason, but just because we are “criminals” who deserve to be punished in general), then crime will happen, because it must happen in order to justify the church (i.e. system of beliefs about justice). Without demons, and witches, and evil in general, there would be no need for religion. So, in the past, these things were invented in order to justify the churches existence.

A Day In The Life...
I wake up at approximately 4:30 a.m. I lay still for several minutes thinking about the dream I just woke up from. I always seem to wake up from dreams these days, but I usually forget them within ten or twenty minutes. Today I've forgotten. It's Tuesday, December 3, 2013.

4:44 a.m. I sit up and punch the light botton on my clear plastic battery powered alarm clock. It's fairly dark in these cells when the lights are off at night, which is a real blessing most prisoners don't get. I'm not sleepy, so I decide to get up. I urinate, throw some warm water on my face to rinse the sleep away, and brush my hair just enough so the guards won't think I'm a nut case when they look in my cell. I haven't cut my hair in over a year, and amazingly it's still only hinting about turning grey.

4:45 a.m. I put on the cheap but amazingly accurate Casio watch that I bought while I was in Idaho Maximum Security several years ago. I haven't actually work this or any other watch since before my arrest in 2005, but I wear it today as a reminded to write this.

5:05 a.m. I finish up these first few paragraphs and since it is all quiet on the tier I decide to pull out my book about Chaology and read until breakfast. First I put some water on to heat for coffee using the stinger I made by clipping two pairs of stainless steal "safety" trimming scissors to the prongs of my T.V. plug. I just set a cup on a makeshift shelf so the scissors are immersed and in about seven to fifteeen minutes the water will boil, depnding on how hot the tap water is to start with.

5:19 a.m. The water's ready, so I pour it into an insulated mug with a water bottle of clean water in it. I use the stung water, which tastes like rust, to heat clean water this way indirectly. It takes a lot longer, but everyone knows you can't drink stung water unless you like getting sick. In the morning, because the top water isn't very hot to begin with, it takes two zaps to get the water in the bottle hot enough for a decent cup of coffee.

5:27 a.m. Second zap is complete. It only takes about 90 seconds to transfer the maximum amount of heat from the stung water to the bottled water; I know because I once jerry-rigged a thermometer out of an empty pen ink-tube and timed it.

5:32 a.m. Coffee is served, nice and hot the way I like it (freeze-dried of course). I turn on the T.V. and flip it to VH1, but I'm disappointed to see that the morning music videos aren't on yet. So I watch "Black Ink" (a tattoo reality show) with no sound while I enjoy my coffee.

5:39 a.m. Finish my coffee, turn off T.V., jot this down, and pick up my "Chaos" book, kick back on my bunk and read.

5:59 a.m. I hear a guard come on the tier and start opening bean-slots to pick up laundry. I get up and wait by the door for my bean-slot to open then push out the three partly filled mesh laundry bags I had prepared (i.e. tied shut securely) last night. Laundry is picked up on Tuesday and Fridays in the morning and usually returned clean on the same afternoon.

6:11 a.m. I finish updating this and go back to reading.

6:27 a.m. I hear guards come on tier and start passing out breakfast trays.

6:31 a.m. The bean-slot in the cell-door opens and I am handed two eight-ounce fat-free milks, and two 2x8x10 inch plastic trays with lids (I just now measured them), one "hot", and one "cold". The "cold" tray has a halved apple, two packs of saccharin based sweetner, a pack of dried coffee, and a spork utensil pack that contains a small napkin and a little salt and pepper that I never bother with. The "hot" tray today is my favorite; two bisuits, a serving of chopped up boiled potatoes, oat meal, and gravy with hamburger meat in it. If I'm hungry, I'll eat the oat meal with about eight packs of my own store-bought aspartame based sweetner (saccharin is only good with tea as far as I'm concerned because tea hides the bitter aftertaste). But, today I'm not that hungry, so I just eat the biscuits and gravy and drink one milk. I put the other milk in an insulated pitcher of ice that I save each day for this very purpose by wrapping the pitcher in some sheets to keep the ice from melting overnight. They usually pass out ice around dinner time (4 p.m.), and I can keep it from completely melting this way for about one day.

6:50 a.m. Trays are picked up, bean-slot is closed, I write this, then go back to reading about Chaology, chapter 13: "Evolution and Order without Design". Fascinating stuff!

7:48 a.m. Finished chapter 13. I feel empowered when I read books like this, that help me articulate my own experience and understanding better. I get up, remove the jacket I'd been wearing since I got up this morning and lay it on the top of the ice pitcher where I keep it when I'm not wearing it, then I cover the door window with a towel that I keep hanging on the door for that purpose. Being able to cover the window like this is another luxury that most prisoners don't have. I've never been in a prison or jail before where you could get away with covering the door window, or any window for that matter, even temporarily, without getting in trouble for it. Here, they not only allow it, generally, but I suspect they even appreciate it since I'm sure they don't like looking at a man sitting on the toilet or taking a shower any more than we like being looked at while we do so. I covered the window in this case so I can sit privately and relive my bowels a bit on the stainless steal 3000$ toilet provided kindly for such purpose. When I finish, I wash my hands thoroughly and dry them on the same towels as I uncover the window again. i put on some more water for coffee and then sit to write this while I wait for it to heat.

8:13 a.m. I put my jacket back on. I was a bit warm when I took it off a moment ago, but now I'm cold again. I usually wear a personal (i.e. store-bought) thermal undershirt with long sleeves, on top of my state issued T-shirt, which generally keeps me warm enough. But today my one and only thermal shirt is in the laundry, so I'll have to make do with this jacket.

8:14 a.m. Water is hot and ready. I make my coffee and enjoy it while watching music videos and commercials on VH1 without sound. If I see a video I like or haven't heard before come on then I'll pick up the earphones and put them in one or both ears, otherwise I prefer not to subject my brain to so much unnecessary noise.

8:30 a.m. I finish my coffee and making the above entry, then get out my copy of "The New York Review of Books", which came in the mail yesterday, and I start combing through its pages and making a list of interesting books that I'll send to one of my "defense team" friends and ask her to print off and send me the Amazon.com information for the books. This is how I find good books to read, and it's how I found that book on Chaology that I was reading earlier. If I find a book I really like then I'll ask one of my lawyers to order it for me, which they are always happy to do much to my deeply felt appreciation.

8:49 a.m. A guard taps on my door. I look up and see his face in the window. He asks, "Rec?" I shake my head, no. He continues on to the next cell. I have not been to "rec" (i.e. recreation) in over a year. I see no point in it. Some of the guards don't even bother asking me if I want rec anymore, which I appreciate. If I ever decide to go to "rec" (i.e. a walled in cage outside, or room with an excerise bike inside) then I'm sure I can find a way to let them know. I return to making my list of books.

10:10 a.m. Lunch is served, interrupting my perusal of the Book Review (I also read any interesting articles I find, and this morning I found several; one about Norman Rockwell, another about Mike Tyson, and a third especially interesting one about the paradigm shift in sexual views that occurred when Christians took over Rome, or in my opinion, when Rome took over Christianity.) For lunch we get two covered trays again. On the "cold" tray is a pasta salad, two slices of wheatbread, and some lettuce, tomato slice, and onions, along with a small packet of "Miracle Whip" like salad dressing, and a spork. On the "hot" tray (which is never hot at all by the time we get it) we get a "chicken patty" (imagine a single chicken McNugget smashed thin so it's the size of a patty, then overly peppered - probably to cover up the fact that there's not enough chicken in it to taste) and a lemon pie, and some plain white rice. I eat the pie with the milk I saved from breakfast, then put the rice in the empty milk carton and put it back in the ice pitcher in case commissary (store) doesn't show up today - it should be here by now but is late - and I get hungry. I leave everything else on the trays untouched (except the salad dressing pack, which i squirrel away); I'm not THAT hungry (the smell of onions on the "cold" tray ruined everything on it for me, and the pepper on the "chicken patty" ruins that (I've tried scrapping the peppered breading off in the past, but there's just not enough meat underneath it to scrape anything off of).

10:44 a.m. Trays are picked up and I go back to perusing my magazine for books.

10:50 a.m. My hands get cold, so I put on the jersey gloves I bought on store a few weeks ago.

10:56 a.m. I find another interesting article I'd like to read, about sea monsters of map legends, but now my eyes and back are a little tired from reading all morning. So, I mark the page for later, and kill the light by tapping on the touch sensitive button near my door. Then I lay down, still wearing my jacket and gloves, and meditate in the prone position for a while. Hopefully commissary will come before long.

12:40 p.m. I fell asleep. Just woke up by "fire alarm" buzzer. It goes off about twice a day lately, and is very loud and annoying. So loud in fact, that the guards have ear protection they can wear when it happens. Fortunately this cell I am in is about twenty feet from the buzzer. The cells directly under the buzzers are much worse. I often wonder if they intentionally set the alarm off as some form of psychological torture. It sure seems like it.

12:42 p.m. Fire alarms finally stops. I turn on the T.V. and flip through the channels. I'm lucky and find a documentary playing on History Channel ("How The Earth Was Made", and awfully pretentious title methinks, but at least it's something to watch that won't numb my brain). I put on water for coffee, then put an earphone in my ear and enjoy the program.

1:02 p.m. I hear the guard/counselor ("Mr. Edwards") in the hall answering the "legal phone" and passing the receiver to another prisoner. I get his attention (he's one of only three staff here that I recognize and know by name) and ask him if the "regular phone" (a.k.a. "cell phone") is being used. He goes and gets it from the end of the tier and passes it to me through the bean-slot with the cord running out through a notch when the slot is closed. The "cell phone" is an old black traditional push button phone that you'd expect to see on a typical government desk. There is frequently a line of prisoners waiting to use it, so I was lucky it was free.

1:07 p.m. I call the Federal Defender's Office in Boise, Idaho and ask for Tom, one of the attorneys who was on my "defense team" during my trial in Boise, and a friend. The receptionist says he's not in. I'm fizing my coffee while I'm on the phone since I don't like to waste the hot water, and I ask for Nancy, and investigator for the "defense team", and also a friend. A moment later she picks up and I thank her for the cute pictures of her dogs dressed up for Halloween that she sent recently because she knows how much I like animals, and then ask her if she knows when Tom will be in the office. She says maybe Thursday would be a good time to try him. I thank her again for the pictures, remind her to send Christmas pictures (of her dogs of course) and say good-bye. I have another call to make but must wait 30 minutes before I can make another call. I check my account balance using the phone. I have $99.45, which means the money for the store this week (about $22) has been withdrawn, a good indicator that we should get our commissary orders soon, hopefully today. I finish my coffee then I write this, then go back to watch the History Channel while I wait for my next call.

1:40 p.m. I call the Federal Defender's Office in Sacramento, California and ask for Erika, and investigator and friend, but she is not in. I ask for Joe, another lawyer/friend working on my case and he's busy. I talk to Joe a lot, and was just calling to say, hi.

1:47 p.m. I go back to watching the documentary about the formation of the Hawaiian islands on the History Channel.

2:11 p.m. I hear a guard on the tier, and another prisoner requesting the "cell phone", so i pass it back out through the bean-slot and then go back to watching the Earth documentary, now on Yellowstone National Park geology. I've seen it before, but I don't mind watching it again to help me learn.

3:37 p.m. My laundry is returned. I open the bags and start folding clothes.

3:45 p.m. Dinner is served, very early today. I haven't even finished putting away my laundry. The "cold" tray is just two slices of bread, a pat of butter (or more likely margarine, but I don't know the difference) and a spork. The "hot" tray contains sweet potatoes, green beans, and a mess of something that I think is supposed to be beef stew, but I can hardly tell because it looks like someone put it in a blender. i taste it and I don't gag, so I decide to give it a shot, but it'll need some work first. I chow down the potatoes and green beans, then retrive the rice I saved from lunch in the ice pitcher and I dump it in the "stew". Much better, but now it was too cold to enjoy. So, on goes the water, and out comes the water bottle with the top cut off that I use for heating up concutions like this. It'll take at least three cups of stung water to heat it sufficiently, but I think it'll be worth it, especially since I'm pretty hungry after not eating much all day, and it doesn't look like commissary is going to make it (which means we probably won't get commissary until Thursday; bummer).

4:10 p.m. While I wait for my "stew" to heat up I write the above and then finish putting away my laundry, which includes taking off the jacket I've been wearing all day and putting on my thermal undershirt.

4:25 p.m. I just finished washing my "dishes" (plastic soup bowl that followed me from Idaho Max, the cut off water bottle, and a personal plastic spoon that is much nicer to eat with than a spork) after enjoying my "stew", which turned out pretty good after heating it up and adding a little "seasoned salt" from store. I just put some water on for my after dinner coffee and life is good - too good after all the hell I've wrought in this world - all the more reason I should enjoy what I have; to not appreciate what I've been given to enjoy would be to dishonor devine grace.

4:45 p.m. Trays picked up and mail passed out at the same time. I got a letter from a friend in Europe, which helps make up for not getting any commissary today.

5:15 p.m. Finish reading my mail, and watch end of "O' Brother, Where Art Thou?" the only George Clooney movie I actually like George Clooney in.

5:23 p.m. C/O Joslin, one of the three staff here who's name I know, and the only C/O (guard) I actually like (because she's always fair and considerate with all the prisoners, even the asswipes), brings around the ice, a little late, but always appreciated (by me at least). So now I can have a cold milk with my lunch tomorrow, a good sign that tomorrow will be another good day.

5:44 p.m. I cover my door window and uncover the air vent then get naked and step in the shower. The water is nice and hot, the way I like it, and quickly steams up the entire cell even with the air vent wide open. I brush my teeth thoroughly in the shower as usual, and wash all over with state soap, but don't use any shampoo (I have two different kinds of shampoo, one with conditioner and one without, but save it for visits, if I ever get one). I have no "social life" so no reason to use shampoo, which I consider a cosmetic (no, I don't have drandruff or itchy scalp either, and my hair is dry not oily). After my shower I dry off and admire my body in the mirror over the sink for a moment. Not narcissistically, I'm too old for that, but I do appreciate how my body is aging slowly. I could stand to loose about five pounds or so off my waist, but I still have a full head of mostly brown hair, a mouth full of 28 teeth (sans four wisdom teeth that I paid good money to have pulled while I lived in Fargo, North Dakota) and no health issues at all. Not bad for a 50-year-old man facing death for the last eight years. I honestly think masturbating a lot helps, which I'll probably do later tonight but won't write about it here, sorry.

6:30 p.m. Well, that's about all for my day. I'll probably read a little more, watch some T.V. ("Naked Vegas" comes on later, which I enjoy watching for different reason. ;) ), and write a letter. I'll also floss later (probably while watching T.V.) and then hit the hay sometime after 11 p.m., or whenever I get tired.

This has been a fairly typical day. Other than some prisoners yelling angrily at each other on occassion, which I typically ignore so didn't bother writing about it. Nobody yells at me and they generally all treat me respectfully when I have any dealings with them at all. I treat them respectully too, except for inmate Gabrion, who wouldn't know respect if it hit him in the face and whom nobody respects because he respects nobody. Gabrion was fairly quiet today though, which added to the day's pleasantness. The hoise from other prisoners is typical, especially in the evening, but if I'm ever bothered by it, which is rarely, I just put in my earplugs, or put on my headphones and the problem is solved.

Слишком много текста

>>135347073 (OP)
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