People often ask me what I'm reading these days, so I have compiled my annual list of books read over the last year. An asterisk * indicates a recommended book and a # indicates fave of the year. Here goes:
- Pawn of Prophecy, David Eddings
- Film Club, David Gilmer
- Once a Runner, John L. Parker Jr. *
- Best Short Stories of Jack London
- New Glass Architecture, Brent Richards
- One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey
- The Theory of Everything, Steven Hawking
- Ella Minnow Pea, Mark Dunn
- Halo: the Fail of Reach, Eric Nyland
- The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Jean-Dominique Bauby
- The Siege, Ismail Kadare *
- Dreaming Up America, Russell Banks
- The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova *
- Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom
- The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
- Carl Haffner's Love of the Draw, Thomas Glavinic
- Mistborn, Brandon Sanderson *
- Philosophy of Andy Warhol, Andy Warhol
- The Flanders Panel, Arturo Perez-Reverte
- The Host, Stephanie Meyer
- Angel Tracks in the Himalayas, Gary Shepherd
- Halting State, Charles Stross
- Empire, Orson Scott Card
- Wild at Heart, John Eldredge
- Green, Ted Dekker
- I Am American (And So Can You), Stephen Colbert
- The Driver, Alex Roy
- Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson *
- Girl With Curious Hair, David Foster Wallace *
- Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery * #
- Nudge, Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein
- Unlikely Disciple, Kevin Roose *
- Usagi Yojimbo (various volumes), Stan Sakai
- Cryptonomicon, Neal Stephenson *
- Fables (various volumes), Bill Willingham
- Give Me Liberty, Frank Miller
- Born to Run, Christopher McDougal *
- Boomsday, Christopher Buckley
- Return of the Dark Knight, Frank Miller
- Batman:Year One, Frank Miller
- The Learners, Chip Kidd
- Lowboy, John Wray
- Sandman, Vol 1, Neil Gaiman
- A Friendly Game, Joe Pimienta
- Sex God, Rob Bell
- The Other, David Guterson
- The Infernal City, Greg Keyes
- The Marquis, Guy Davis
- Eifelheim, Michael Flynn *
- The Queen's Gambit, Walter Tevis
- The World According to Garp, John Irving
- The Prodigal God, Tim Keller
- Ghost World, Dan Clowes
- Maus, Art Speigelman
- Reading Comics, Douglas Wolk
- Searching for God Knows What, Donald Miller * #
- Y: The Last Man (various volumes), Brian K Vaughn *
- Rural Studio: Sam Mockabee and an Architecture of Decency, Andrea Oppenheimer Dean and Timothy Hursley
Well, this is our last day of Quarantine and it was made even more difficult by a power outage. For some reason, maintenance turned off power in our pod this morning and left it off until 1 PM. This meant no TV - the real pacifier in the baby inmate's mouth - or radio, hot pots, or lights. That knocked out 90% of these guys' entertainment.A cheer went up when the power came back, but then some groaning. Half of the cells in the dorm still weren't getting power. Maintenance came back and it wasn't until 4PM that power was fully restored. Or so I thought.
When I went to my cell to listen to the radio, I noticed that a red 12:00 wasn't blinking back at me. My cell still didn't have power. I asked the guard in the picket to call maintenance back, but they were gone for the day. Great! The guard said they would fix it in the morning. I guess I've got an excuse when I show up to work late - no alarm.
Yesterday I was called back from work to the pod, which I knew could only mean one thing: quarantine. Three days stuck in the pod, even for chow. Meals are delivered to us while the sick ones stayed in their cell.
This weekend was supposed to be free picture weekend at visitation, the first time I've ever seen pictures taken during visits on this unit. And now the whole pod is locked down. the major said he would try to get pictures for us next weekend but some guys had visitors come from far away (one guy from North Carolina) especially to see them. Now they wasted money and time traveling the long distance.
The worst part is that the guy who claims to be sick isn't really. He claimed to be sick to avoid having to go to a lay-in, and when they took it seriously and called him to the infirmary, he made up an elaborate story. Now they think he might have a crazy disease and sent a stool sample to Austin to be tested. If positive, we will be locked down in quarantine for a month. I can guarantee the test comes back negative.
This facility is going to be on national TV. All day there has been a film crew here for the show CHASE, that is on NBC. None of the filming, that I know of, was done inside the unit, but they used our rec yard and truck dock. Most of the afternoon a helicopter was doing stunts and what looked like an escape scene on the rec yard.
This isn't the first time filming has been done here. The movie Bottle Rocket was partially filmed here in the 90's. And I'm sure the inmates were inconvenienced back then, too. School was canceled and everything shut down except the kitchen. They made special food for dome of the crew, which there were more of than I imagined was necessary.
Their trucks were parked side-by-side, were at least 100 feet wide and they seemed to move like ants, always moving things around. What was funny to watch were the sergeants of the prison trying to help but just getting in the way. I hope they were humbled a little.
Over the past two days both work and home life (though they are both in the same building) have changed quite a bit. I have a new cellie at one end and a new coworker at the other.
On Monday, Juan moved to go to the kitchen workers' dorm and was replaced by a young guy named Chris. My new cellmate is only 18 and entered prison just two months ago. I hope he isn't dragged into stupid stuff like a lot of other youngsters looking for approval. He seems to have a good head on his shoulder, but only time will tell. I'll try to be as encouraging as I can while dissuading him from the dumb stuff.
Yesterday, Shane w
as replaced by a guy named Dustin. I'm not too sure about him. He goes by "Sin" because it is tattooed on the back of his neck with "666" hidden inside. It couldn't be more stereotypical of a prison tattoo if he had "Mom" in a pierced heart. As long as he works and doesn't let his gang affiliation influence the workplace, it should be okay. He says he has changed over the past two years (he's been incarcerated for eight) but, like my cellie, only time will tell.
Today was a lot of fun, more than I've had in a long time. The population put on a talent show for a few staff judges and a crowd of inmates. And somehow I wound up performing Elvis.
One of the ladies that works in the mailroom is a die-hard Elvis fan and had a few guys do one of his songs for the talent show last year. The same guys were supposed to play this year, but backed out. I noticed the mailroom lady looking kind of down one day when I picked up periodicals for the library. When I found out about the other guys backing out, I told her that I would sing and play guitar. If she could get me chords and lyrics to a song, I would talk to the organizer about filling the empty spot.
Over the last couple of weeks I've been going to choir practice to borrow a guitar to play in the hallway, working on getting "Return to Sender" down pat. To make the performance more interesting, I made a cape and scarf with letters in gold glitter scripts spelling "Elvis Presley". Today the mailroom lady brought huge gold sunglasses and glue-on sideburns. After that little bit of work, I was ready.
Most of the twenty acts for the talent show were rap songs with the exact same beat, but there were a few original R & B performances and some truly terrible covers of country and rock songs.
When it came time for me to go on I gathered some guys to act as shields to hide me from the audience while I crept up to the microphone. Once everything was set I signaled the guys to split away to leave me there, back to the audience, arms forming a "Y". I slowly spun to face the applause - and I hadn't done anything yet.
After a short intro, I belted "Return to Sender" in my best Elvis voice. It must have been alright because, by the time I finished, about half the audience was standing and clapping. I took off my sunglasses, patted my forehead, and walked over to the judges before tossing the scarf to the mailroom lady, who screamed and twirled it in the air.
As I passed the assistant warden going offstage, he just smiled and shook his lowered head.
Many a good truth has been upheld by wicked men for their own purposes. And good men have caused much wickedness in their zealotry."
"The Armleder."
Dietrich hesitated. "That was one such case. There were good men among them." He fell silent thinking of the fishwife and her boy in the Frieburg market.
"There was a leader among the Armleder," Joachim said slowly, "called 'Angelus' "
Dietrich was a long time silent, "that man is dead now," he said at last. "But through him I learned a terrible truth: that heresy is truth in extremis. The proper object of the eye is light, but too much light blinds the eye."
"So, you would compromise with the wicked, as the Convectuals do?"
"Jesus said the weeds would grow with the wheat until the Judgment," Dietrich answered," so one finds both good men and bad in the Church. By our fruits we will be known, not by what name we have called ourselves. I have come to believe that there is more grace in becoming wheat than there is in pulling weeds."
"So might a weed say, had it speech," said Joachim. "You split hairs."
"Better to split hairs than the heads beneath them."
~ Michael Flynn, Eifelheim
*Matthew 13:24-30
Prison is an especially tough place to hear about a crisis in the family. Most of our support network, if we are blessed with one at all, is beyond these walls and we are left with sinking news to grieve alone.My friend, Cameron, has had a crushing week so far. First came news on Monday that his ex-girl-friend, who hadn't written in months, was victim to an abusive relationship that hospitalized her for some time. The girl's older brother was a childhood friend of mine, so Cameron came me as a shoulder to dry on and share his grief with.
I got the girl's address and wrote her an encouraging letter, but I also did my best to brighten up Cameron.
My efforts were dashed today, just two days later, when Cameron found out his grandmother had passed away right after his address was cleared for parole. So close to getting out to see her, but it didn't work out that way. Cameron's boss caught me in the hallway and, knowing how close we are, shared the news.
"Keep and eye on him" was my missive, a very decent gesture by his boss.
I found Cameron in the library and pulled him out into a side hallway so he would be away form other people and more free to grieve. As we stood in the hallway, the supply officer came by and asked what we were doing.
" Grieving," I replied.
"Well, go grieve somewhere else" came her brusque instructions.
Like I said, prison is a tough place for a crisis. I'll try to be open and available for Cameron as he works through this time, but I know I'm not any kind of replacement for his home and family.
Prison being what it is, there are many shenanigans going on nearly every day. Usually they don't have any consequences for me, because I'm never involved. However, there are instances when the craziness gets so out of hand that it affects a mass of inmates. One of those instances occurred tonight.
The guard for our dorm came in to do a cell search. The guys in the cell to be searched had a bunch of tobacco and started flushing what they could with the door closed. The guard rushed upstairs and called to get the cell door opened pronto.
When the door popped open, one of the guys tossed a bag over the rail to a guy on the ground floor, who ran to his cell, shut the door and started flushing. As the bag flew over the rail, the guard ran down the stairs to the newly closed door and called to get it opened. Behind the shouting, I heard the high-powered flushes of our toilets. When the door opened, the guy was just standing there with a smile on his face.
After this humiliation, the guard called rank. Everyone in the dorm was marched into the hallway and strip-searched. We all waited in the hall while a squad of officers tore apart our dorm, tossing stuff all over our cells. About thirty minutes passed before we were allowed to go back in. Even then, we went straight to our destroyed cells and were told that we would be locked down for the rest of the night.
The stupidest part is that because none of the tobacco was captured, the guys won't get in trouble and they will stay in the dorm to repeat their actions.
Dietrich reached into his scrip and pulled out the wooden doll and gave it to their little girl. He had polished it to remove the scorches, and had replaced the charred arms and legs with fresh sticks he had found. The hair, he had cut from his own head. But Maria dropped the doll in to the dirt and cried, "That isn't Anna!. That isn't Anna!" And she ran in side the rebuilt cottage, leaving Dietrich crouching in the dust.
Sighing, he replaced the doll into his scrip. It wasn't the doll, he thought. The doll was only a construction of sticks and rags. There was nothing precious about such things. He stood and picked up the wooden cage with the clucking chickens...
Something repaired, he thought as he returned to the parsonage, is never quite what it was before. Whatever parts were replaced, the memories could never be.
~ Michael Flynn, Eifelheim
Before I came to prison I played board games once a week with a group in Arlington that was led by a really cool middle-aged couple. That was always a highlight for my week and they exposed me to a slew of different games, mostly the new wave of designer board games from Europe. The most successful is Settlers of Catan, if that helps give you an idea of the type of game.The board game group is one thing I have really missed since my arrest. Fortunately, the couple has kept in touch via letters and their annual prediction contest. A year or so ago they told me about a game that had been addictive for everyone they shared with. This game - Dominion - is so loved by one of their relatives that close to 100 games were played during a holiday gathering.
I told West about Dominion a few months ago when he asked about games without dice that we could play at rec. Now with cards approved, West has just received Dominion from his mom and I've got to say - it's pretty awesome. It plays fast and lets you approach a win with a variety of strategies, although, if too many people pursue one strategy, they choke each other out. It's not quite the typical board game night, but we still have a lot of fun.
Yet another change of staff in the library. West out, Shane in.
West has been on the unit for six years and, unfortunately, has gathered a couple grudges in the administration. One of the guys in classification - the department that does job changes - saw West working in the library and immediately went to the major to complain. Not even an hour later West had a job change in the TDC computer. One of the lieutenants saw him in the hall and threatened to lock him up in segregation if he was in the library. All of this and he had not done anything wrong in the library. It's just the vindictive people working here.
So now my buddy Shane is working with me. He's not official yet, but it should be moving through the proper channels soon. It's cool to be working alongside such a good friend. The job ought to be at least a little more enjoyable.
More good news for the library: we have a Half Price Books hook-up.
On Thursdays I get off work just as the Bible study is starting so I often see the visitors as they come in to lead the class. One of the volunteers, a bear of a man named Rick, brought a box full of books from home a few weeks ago that he gave to the library. So the Thursday crew has already blessed us once.
Tonight we had an uncommon visitor. Katie is a missionary who is currently living stateside and is full of spunk and, like others in the crew, has a passion for sharing the Christ-life. When I showed up for class she greeted me and asked if I worked in the library. After my affirmative answer, she asked if she could donate books. After another affirmative, I got to hear a cool story.
A few years ago, Katie was trying to start a library in Kenya. She went to a Half Price bookstore and asked if they had any books they needed to get rid of. The clerk replied that the store did not have unused inventory, but she could check their warehouse in Dallas. Upon inquiry, the warehouse attendant said that, as long as Katie had proof of 501.3 (c) status, she could get whatever she wanted. Needless to say, the Kenyan library was a success. And now Katie wants to share the blessing with our library.
I might need some help picking up the books," Katie remarked.
"I know someone who would probably love to meet you and get the books," I replied and gave her my mom's contact info. "She even has a list of suggestions to help out."
What a boon it would be to have more free books for our decrepit-yet-slowly-progressing library.
OJ is back.
After weeks of negotiations with the major and warden about moving back to R-pad, it finally went through. It took some gathering of allies on the pod, but it did happen. Omar and I even put together a celebratory meal to welcome him back. Prison pizza followed by a couple of good games of Munchkin is hard to beat for a good time around here.
Lelan also came back last night and was at work this morning. I got to hear about his vacation during our lunch break. He had a personal meeting with the parole folks, too, a conversation just long enough to require a leave from the unit. He would have been back sooner, but somehow got lost in the system during transit. If that isn't a scary anecdote from prison - escape, lost parole, injury - and no one would know anything because the person isn't in the system. I can think of one good way to cut down that problem. Bookkeeping is easier with less to keep track of, so, let many of us go, especially those of us with technical probation or parole violations. We were sent here because we were, at most, a headache for our probation officer, not because we were a threat to society.
Along with my cases for the envelope and book I had last week, I also got silly case for being out of place. Luckily, that one was ripped up when I told the sergeant what had happened.
My friend, Omar, is going through some stuff with his family and I was talking with him in his cell when I was called out to visit. Technically, we are not supposed to be in someone else's cell, but it happens all the time with implicit permission from the guards. I explained that I wasn't trying to cause trouble, but help a friend.
"Alright, but if I see a case like this cross my desk again, I'm going to lock you up," the sergeant threatened.
Not even a full day later, the sergeant received my cases for the envelope and book. Needless to say, he was not happy. I explained that I always have stuff with me when I do book cart and haven't done anything different than the last ten months except work on night shift.
"I can't let you make it twice in one day," he said. "Plus, lieutenant is looking for this one to go through."
Sheesh, what did I do to get on his bad side? I pretty much mind my own business, and I don't even have much business. Apparently, i have a large target on my back that just begs the rank to toss darts my direction.
Today my boss got a call from mom, the warden's secretary.
'What did your worker get a case for?"
After my boss explained the plot, she received this reply: "Tell him not to worry. It's taken care of."
Apparently the lieutenant trying to nail me is the same guy who let Ereman off with a verbal reprimand when he threatened me and my boss several months ago. I guess mom still doesn't appreciate that lax judgment, so she made sure my cases went missing. A vigilant mom on my side sure is a nice perk of the job.
Last week during lockdown had a trade of friends - one left the unit while one came back.
It seems too often that a friend leaves around here. I've noticed myself almost subconsciously screening guys when I meet them. If you leave within the next few months, sorry, I don't want to get to know you just before you leave. However, if you'll be here more than a year, I'll hang out. Even out of the guys I've gotten to know pretty well, there have only been a few that have written even once after we separated.
When I showed up in the library for inventory, my boss told me that my good buddy, Lelan, had left the previous day. Lelan was a guy I had been in choir with earlier in the year and, for some reason, we just clicked. We spent time in the library when he needed encouragement and I would duck out and wander to the office where he worked if I needed a pick-me-up of my own. My boss said he would be back in a couple weeks, which I hope is true. I'm going to miss our conversations on life if he stays gone.
On the flip side, the same day that Lelan left, my close friend OJ came back. I thought he had left in parole, but he only went to have a chat in person with some parole folks. When he was her in my pod, he would make sure my laundry came out white like the other laundry workers' clothes. In the time he's been gone my clothes have gotten a bit dingy, so, for that reason it's good to have him back. Really though, I'm hoping he gets back to the dorm soon so we can game again.
My legacy of being a target for stupid cases continues.
We came off lockdown yesterday evening, so West and I decided to run book cart today to give people a chance to read while we did inventory. It's not a big deal that our book cart books are out because most of them ate doubles or cast-offs anyway. West also had the crazy idea to do the whole 100-man unit in one day. Now, these are guys who just came off lockdown, hungry for new reading material while the library is still closed. Book cart was busy and that is an understatement.
We started the book cart at 8:30 am and didn't finish until about 7 pm after the 6:30 shift change. It took a while to find someone to open the library for us to return the carts because the night shift isn't accustomed to the library workers being out on their sift. The lieutenant finally let us in.
As I was coming out, I pulled an envelope from under my clipboard with some poetry from a friend, grabbed my book, and headed out.
"Hold on a sec," called the lieutenant, "Lemme see that envelope."
After I handed him the envelope, he stated, "This doesn't have your name or number on it. It's contraband."
"Alright, you can have it," I conceded, "I don't mind."
"No, you follow me. You'll get confiscation papers and a case."
"Really? For an envelope? I do this every weekend."
"Not this one you don't."
When we reached his office, he filled out maybe half the paperwork before handing me off to the sergeant.
"What's that?" asked the sergeant, eying my book.
"A book. I read while I do book cart. Every weekend."
"Lemme see it."
I handed it over.
"No name or number. It's contraband. I'm confiscating this, too."
"Are you serious? I do the same thing every weekend without any trouble. The only difference is that I don't have to deal with this shift."
"Well, tonight you do," the sergeant sneered.
Now I have two bogus cases to deal with at the same time. Wonderful. What will they come up with next?
The day after my pod was shaken down, my coworker and I were called down to the library on our inventory. This task involves printing entire collection, then checking off each book as we go down the shelves. What already a slow process is complicated by the fact that the officers doing the shakedown don't cooperate with us. We asked them to take up all the library books they find, but that has not happened. I expect the inventory to take a big chunk of time after lockdown because guys are usually reluctant to turn in their books.
We are about halfway finished now and I'm really enjoying the quiet in the library. Better than the quiet, though, is our lunch. Because the unit is locked down, the dining hall is closed. That doesn't mean the kitchen is empty. There are plenty of workers that fill the johnnies and go pass them out.
When my boss leaves for lunch break she has been leaving us in the kitchen for what we call daycare, and what great daycare it is. This first day we were dropped off, the kitchen guys made Barbecue roast beef with onions and peppers. Using hoagie buns, we made awesome sandwiches. Yesterday the guys made pepperoni pan pizza. Those two meals were better than anything I've eaten in prison so far, and they came during a lockdown!
Today West and I were dropped off too early to get in on the food so while he went out with the johnny crew, I made lunch for the two of us. Using bananas, butter, cinnamon and brown sugar, I made fried bananas to put between toasted bread with peanut butter. I had not had fried bananas in years and had forgotten how awesome the caramelized surface is.
So now I'm wondering why we can't be on lockdown more often. I'm loving this.
My dorm was shaken down today. After lugging my stuff to the gym and back, I was tuckered out. When the johnnies came for dinner, I was ready for a quick meal followed by a bit of reading, then sleep. However, the kitchen pulled a joke on us that delayed the meal quite a bit.
My cellie passed my johnny over when they arrived and immediately I noticed some major heft to the sack. What are they feeding us that is so dense? I was used to salami sandwiches and chips, not whatever this brick was. I looked inside and dug for the bottom to find a raw potato. Really? A potato? I showed Juan and we must have laughed for a full two minutes. What did they expect us to do with a raw potato?
After the convulsions of laughter faded, I came up with an idea: put the potato in the hotpot to cook it, then mash it up with the sour cream and onion chips we got and throw it into the spread we would make later. Three hours later (how's that for a quick meal?) the potato seemed to be done. Juan and I carried out my plan, which included a few Ramen soups, dehydrated refried beans and some beef chunks. It turned out much better than I expected.
The lesson learned: when life gives you potatoes, have a good laugh and improvise. Now I'm full and ready for a good night's rest.
"Hey, they want you in the sergeant's office. Just come back out when you're done."
This was the interruption to our weekly gaming session out at rec. I had no idea what the sergeant wanted me for, but I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I just had to get up and leave my fellow players hanging.
When I got to his office, Sergeant French was sitting behind the desk. He's the one who has always had it out for me since I started working in the library. He was wearing a face that said, "Gotcha this time."
"Come on in. You've got a case for having gambling paraphernalia."
"What? Gambling paraphernalia? What you talking about?" I replied incredulously. I definitely didn't have that in my cell or even hear me.
"Yep. You got a case for these papers."
He held up two sheets of paper with boxes of X's and O's marked in 5 x 5 squares. It took a second for me to recognize what it was and then it hit me.
"That's not gambling paraphernalia. That's a logic puzzle I was working on. The 'exes' and 'ohs' are for eliminating answers."
"I see the nicknames on the rows and columns here. This is gambling," French said, still thinking he had won.
"No, those are labels for the categories. I can show you the puzzle. I have it in my cell."
"Fine. Go get it."
A few minutes later I was back with the puzzle in hand and showed it to the sergeant.
"Oh, so this is a game. You didn't buy this on commissary so it's contraband. That's a case." He was still trying to nail me with something. He just couldn't stand to see me go. I don't know why he dislikes me so much, but he does.
"Hold on," called out the lieutenant from behind her desk. "Come show me how this works."
After I went through the first few clues and showed her the corresponding marks on the paper, she said, "You're OK. Go on back to rec."
I had to go back to the security office when I found that the rec doors were shut. After I asked for the doors to be opened, the lieutenant asked if I knew anything about computers.
"Yeah, quite a bit," I replied.
She turned to the sergeant, smiled, and said, "See, told ya."
Way back in May I made an order from a comic shop down in San Antonio for a graphic novel and a couple single issues of comics. The way most comic shops is pretty cool. The huge comics distributor, Diamond, puts out a catalog called Previews each month that contains all the comics that will be released two months later. Customers fill out an order and give it to their local shop for them to pull. Then the customer waits for the release date and goes to pick up the comics. It's almost like the customer chooses the comic shop's inventory.
I expected the order made to come in July, but that certainly didn't happen. Nor did it come in August. In mid-August, I sent a letter to the shop asking what was going on with my order. I didn't receive a reply for several weeks and, when it did come, it was a hand-written letter in bright colored pen - not the formal typed letters I had grown accustomed to from the shop. The letter explained that the shop had new owners that were scrambling to get things in order. My comics would be coming soon, it said; sorry for the delay.
It turned out that the previous owner had misordered a couple of my requests, so the new were waiting for the correct stuff to come in. I sent a list of each of my orders to be sure everything showed up OK, and my mom made a call to the shop asking about progress. I'm a patient guy (a skill I've honed here in prison), but I was getting a it anxious.
Today my first two orders both arrived, finally, along with a huge surprise: the entire first order had been comped. The shop took complete responsibility for the screw-up they didn't commit, and put the money in a store credit. Wow! That's some great customer service, with handwritten letters, too. This shop, Atomic Comics of San Antonio, is definitely committed to their customers and, in turn, this customer is committed to them.
These walls are much too close
Just a slit for seeing out
The window shows another world
A world of sunlight, of trees,
Of ideas, of impact, of life
I try to share this world with others
Their eyes will not see
Their ears will not hear
They continue pacing small circles
Their soles becoming calloused
But I know my eyes don't lie
There is a better world
Maybe I can go there
Be a part of real
Until then I wait
Looking for tomorrow.
"Eww" led to BRAKKABRAKKA, *cough*, *cough*, and "Ah..."
After this region was inundated with rain over the weekend, one o f the drainage pipes started backflowing into one of the main hallways of the unit. The smell was nauseating right outside the main dining hall as a few guys did their best to sop up the mess and squeegee it away..
This unit seems to have been built on a floof plain or former lake because our track floods with the smallest amount of rain. This means the water takes a bit longer to go away and, thus, the stench lingered.
Even though this drainage problem has most likely been present for years, it has always been dealt with in the most typical TDCJ fashion: short-term benefit, long-term disaster. Luckily, we have a new-ish assistant warden who takes care of the things the right way. He called in outside contractors to bust up the concrete hallway and fix the pipe. This shut down the main thoroughfare to the dining hall with loud hammering and clouds of pulverized concrete, To accommodate the traffic, the rec courtyard was opened up for both hallways.
I love having the courtyard opened up. Every time I go to or from work I get to go outside, feel the sun, and get some fresh air. I'm not the only one that enjoys it, either. Another nice thing about the courtyard being open is that is gives us a place to go when my boss leaves the library. Today I was playing a card game in the library during count time when my boss took her lunch break. Normally we would have to stop playing and wait in the hall for count to clear, but today we simply moved to the table in the courtyard. It was great weather, too.
I guess I shouldn't get too comfortable, though. The contractors will probably finish up before the weekend. At least the problem will be solved and I had a nice break from the norm in the meantime.
In a great example of the few screwing up something for the many, I had my hot pot taken last night. This comes in the wake of someone's "fixed" hot pot catching the property office on fire a couple weeks ago.
Our hot pots bring water almost to a boil, but some people ant the max, so they take them apart and short them out so there is no temperature detection. Of course, you have to keep an eye on these because they are prone to catch fire like in the property office.
After the fire - not a big one, by the way - some guards have taken it upon themselves to prevent fires everywhere, which is actually a good thing. The bad comes when some of those officers begin to take unattended hot pots instead of simply unplugging them like most officers do.
Last night I went to church after filling my hot pot with water to cook with when I got back. The water in my pot, at its hottest, will not even blister your tongue. Yet, upon my return from the service, my hot pot was missing. After a near-unintelligible conversation with an African officer, I received my confiscation papers.
I'm not worried about the hot pot because I know I'll get it back on Monday, but it's annoying to have to go through the trouble of dealing with meddlesome guard and no hot cooking water.
Last night I received a surprise when layins were handed out. I was scheduled to have my second parole interview today. Whoa, this is very early. I didn't expect it to come until late next month at the earliest. I guess this just further proves that there is no rhyme or reason to the Texas parole system.
So, after getting prayed up and pumped up, I went to see the unit parole man this morning. I don't even know why they even want another interview. I never see anyone who actually votes on my parole and the guy I did see does nothing more than ask if anything has changed since the last time I was interviewed.
Yeah, stuff has changed. I'm a little older, wiser and more anxious to go home.
In truth, I hate going into these interviews. I feel like I'm going into a test that I've studied hard for, sitting down to fill out all the answers correctly, knowing I should pass with flying colors. then walking out having no idea how I will be graded. If there were a million things wrong with the Texas judicial and criminal justice (misnomer) system - and there are - parole is definitely one of them. I've seen guys with zero disciplinary problems and a zillion self-improvements go before parole and get shot down, while crooked a troublemaker who has been put in higher custody since coming to prison gets to leave. There's no logic to that. If they cause problems in here, aren't they more likely to cause them out there among the community that the system is supposedly trying to keep safe? It's as if the system is trying to justify its existence by showing the community their dangerous criminals while holding back those that can be positive reflections of the system's results. It's beyond me.
I just want to go home.
My logic and computer skills have been put to the test over the past few days. The kitchen clerk recently received the database form his last unit, complete with recipes, menus and inventory control. This is exactly what the kitchen here has been wanting. the only problem is that it was made for a different unit with a different menu and different schedule. The kitchen captain and clerk asked me to modify the database to make it usable for our kitchen.
This is actually a pretty daunting task. Much of the database uses virtual basic to operate, which is a coding language I've never messed with. In fact, I've never coded software; only web pages.
I spent the next two hours on Saturday just getting my bearings. Since I don't actually work in the kitchen, I have to go in on my days off to get anything done. They got lucky this weekend as I was off for Labor Day today. I spent six hours there today converting the schedule and editing the current kitchen menus. I'm still far from finished, but I did get a bit completed. I know it will be a big improvement when I do finish the modifications.
The nice thing about working in the kitchen is that, since I don't actually work there and I 'm doing them a huge favor, I get fed pretty well. They usually have something other them the bland menu items in the back and I also eat at least one more desert there than the norm. If I don't watch how much time I spend in there, I might blow up. The extra food is definitely a good thing though.
Today was certainly and odd one. I had an unexpected day off after a power outage. Each month on the last Friday of the month the maintenance crew turns off the unit power at 7 am to test the generator system. This always knocks out my alarm clock, so i wake up late every time. This morning was no different, except that it happened on a Tuesday and the generators didn't kick on. When I woke up at 8:15, the electricity was still out and it stayed out until after the officers were finished with the morning count. This meant I couldn't go to work; the lights couldn't turn on anyway.
When the power was finally restored, I went down to the library for work. I didn't stay for long. My boss wasn't feeling well and decided to go home to rest and
recuperate. That left me with the rest of the day to myself back in the dorm.
I've got to say, days off in prison are not near as fun as days of on the outside. We really don't have much to do, and even Munchkin can wear out after too many games. I just lay in bed and read my current book, Lowboy. I would have liked to stay active and productive, but I guess one more day to add to the years isn't so bad.
I got a treat this week along with the other guys in my dorm. My parents sent in a card game called Munchkins that I used to play before I was incarcerated. Ordinarily, card games would not be allowed (the one form of gambling not allowed in TDCJ), but the warden gave the thumbs up as long as the cards aren't traditional ace-king playing cards. This decision has freed up m any other card games such as Pokemon, Magic:The Gathering, UNO and Mille Borne. Also allowed is one of my faves, Munchkins.
I was introduced to Munchkins during my freshman year of college. Three of my friends brought it out between classes on day and it became our default time-killer form then on. The concept is similar to role-playing games where you kill monsters for treasure, except there are plenty of other opportunities to sabotage other players for self-gain. All the cards are riffs on different genres, such as sci-fi, pirates and horror, which usually brings some laughs to the table, too.
The guys here became just as hooked on the game as I was when I started. Each time I come back from work, I hear "Are we playing Munchkin tonight?" and, unless I have some other project, the answer is yes. I think it's so cool that this new warden has opened up new opportunities for entertainment. Now, if we could just get some actual college classes going on so we can be educated as well.
Birthdays in prison are usually quite melancholy events. No one around knows or cares, and those that do are the friends and family you can't celebrate with. However, this year I have looked forward to my birthday for several weeks. This year is different because i have two friends here who do care and pulled together a special meal for me.
My day got off to a good start with a visit from my parents. It was the first time in over a month I have seen them and I was ready to see their faces again. My mom even brought a special treat - fizzy Skittles. That was something. I'd never tried. I guess that was the theme for the day: something new.
A couple weeks ago OJ and Omar asked what I wanted to eat for my birthday. Now, commissary doesn't have a very extensive selection, so I said I would just go with a normal prison pizza topped with BBQ beef as the meat. That was something I'd never had before. For dessert, I told them I would make a pie of my own creation. The crust was graham cracker with cocoa and peanut butter mixed in. The bottom of the crust was glazed with chocolate syrup and covered with candy orange slices. Chocolate pudding with peanut butter made the filling and the top was dressed with crushed Chick-o-Stick. It turned out better than I expected, a good mix of flavor.
I was surprised with the handmade cards that had been signed by a few friends in the dorm. That was beyond what I had imagined possible here. On my birthday, I am thankful for the many blessings that God has given me, especially friends who go out of their way to make this day extraordinary.
Yesterday I received a visit from the president of the organization I worked for prior to my incarceration. Yes, it was in the middle of the week - prospective employers have that privilege, along with clergy and attorneys. We also happened to be the only people inn the visitation room other than the supervising guard in the corner. It was certainly a different atmosphere than the usual din of the visitors all around. Nice to be reminded of quiet every now and then.
I found out about my boss's visit a couple of weeks ago and was actually quite surprised that it would take place. I never had much interaction with him at the office and have been absent for over three years. I guess it helps that I have loving parents who also work at that office, a place filled with more love for people than I've experienced any where else. When I heard that he was coming, I was at a loss for what we would be talking about. I'm fairly worthless as an employee here and don't expect to get out for almost two years.
We sat down and I was asked about my prison experiences. I was able to share how God has been working in and through me over the past few years. Then I heard about how the organization has grown and changed since I left as my boss told me his excitement about how God is shaping how Bible translation is done. It made me miss being involved in the process, even in a small capacity.
After I explained my post-release goals, including education mostly, he surprised me with a discussion of how I could work from behind these walls. Really? Apparently there's a load of writing that needs to be done each quarter for project updates that I might be able to help with. Now we're trying to figure out the logistics of getting things back and forth, if it's possible at all.
I came away very encouraged, not just that I might get work, but that the president of the organization took time out of his very busy schedule to check up on someone who has only been a small part of operations years ago. God's community continues to surprise me with amazing blessings.
Last night was the last night of the fantasy football draft for the league I'm in. For those who don't know, fantasy football is a game where you draft players from all over the NFL to play for points on your squad. Each game week players earn points for their squad based on their stats for that week.
The first time I played was in my high school youth group as a way to make Sunday evenings more interesting. I found that fantasy football really gets you interested in each game because most of the time at least one of your players or your opponent's players will be on the field.
This is the first time I've seen fantasy football in prison done properly. At Hightower, the fantasy was more of a pick 'em because you just submitted a group of players who you thought would perform bets, which meant that you share with everyone. This league has a draft, which makes every player unique to his team., and each week has head-up games with a playooff for the winning teams.
I like this set-up much better. My team is mine and I'm sure that by the end of the season I will be attached to a few players who carried my team unexpectedly. It does help the time fly by.
For the past few months the warden has been pushing clean cells. Each week he holds a competition where he goes around to every cell to pass or fail it. If you pass, you get a bag of popcorn on Saturday.
Juan and I have never passed.
Popcorn is not a very good motivator for me. We already sweep and mop our cell every other day. I scrub the sink and toilet to a shine with toothpaste once a week. the ony reason we fail is because of the stuff around our mattresses. We both have uncommonly narrow mattresses, so we store frequently-accessed items like books and writing supplies around the rim of our bunks. It's all neat and organized, but not what they're looking for.
Apparently, the warden noticed our pattern of noncompliance because my book cart duty was interrupted as I was told to get back to my cell ASAP. When I walked in to the dorm, I saw a sergeant in my cell on the second floor. When I looked into the cell, I couldn't see the floor due to all the stuff strewn around like trash. The sergeant had torn up our cell like a mobster making an example of a "client". everything was everywhere.
"I'm not taking anything. Just have all this cleaned up and compliant before lunch is over."
Ugh. This is ridiculous. I spent the next hour rearranging my property in my locker and hiding many of my books under my mattress to make sure everything was out of sight. It would all go back to normal after sarge came back to inspect the progress, so it didn't matter how lumpy and uncomfortable the mattress was.
It wasn't until just before shift change at 6 o'clock that the sergeant came back, but we passed his check. It's doubtful that Juan and I will put forth the effort to pass again.
Not everyone here is blessed to be able to go to commissary. In fact. I'd say only about half the population has any amount of money given to them by family or friends each year. However, just because the guys with zero balance don't have cash in their account doesn't mean they go without commissary. There are many ways that guys get the food and hygiene products they want and/or need. No, I'm not talking about THAT way. Some methods are legit, while others are shady. Along with bartering, these "hustlers" keep the inmate economy afloat.
The first method I'll explain is the most legit. Due to ginormous laundry loads in the unit washers and dryers, most of the time our clothes come back barely cleaner than when we sent them. Enter the hustler. Clothes washed by hand is a service performed all over the state, usually one guy in every dorm who does the washing. Hand-washed clothes come out whiter than they ever would from the unit machines.
Some guys get very serious about it and work eight hours each day. I've seen one guy who even had a menu of options drawn up - basic soap, detergent, or bleach - and a signed contract with every customer. Most of the time a washing goes for 50 cents (two soups or a stamp) per item.
Next are the guys who make and/or repair stuff. Some guys make needles to custom tailor clothes or repair shoes that have holes in them. I've had several shirts trimmed down to my size and each time it has been the gay man's work that has been best. Not to stereotype, but they know their cuts!
Others will fix hot pots so that water will boil instead of merely heating up. A few guys tinker enough that they make speakers for radios. We are only allowed headphones so a well-made speaker is a hot commodity (in more ways than one!) I've heard some speakers loud enough to rattle the pre-cast concrete walls of our cells. A tailored shirt goes for $1 (a meat pack or bag of dehydrated refried beans) while a good speaker costs around $10.
Then there are the hustlers that are just illegal, period. These usually involve stealing well-sought items from the state, whether it's the food out of the chow hall, markers form education, or wax from the floor crew. These hustlers tend to be compensated well for the risks they take, though I've seen many who do it solely for the thrill.
Unfortunately, the state does not do much to help our living situation in most cases, so, instead of waiting for the state to fix things or lift restrictions on items that are not dangerous in the least, many guys would rather do it themselves. Of course, many of the most dangerous items are stolen from the state, such as screwdrivers and ingredients for hooch.
These are just a sampling of the myriad of services that entrepreneur inmates provide to fill up their own locker. There are so many opportunities to hustle that the only who can't get what they need are the disabled, stupid, or lazy. I'm very blesses to have a supportive family that puts money in my commissary account, but, in the event of a terrible misfortune preventing that money from coming, I know I could find other ways to meet my needs.
This morning I stepped down from paying guitar in the choir. It was a difficult decision that I had been dealing with for a few months, and I finally felt like it as time for me to go.
One of my best buddies on the unit, Lelan, stepped out in early May for many of the same reason as I did, and I've heard unhappy sentiment from a few others as well. The choir director seems to be led by ego under the guise of "the Holy Spirit." Honestly, it angers me when someone always plays the "god told me so" card because conversations with Him are usually a private affair.
While the choir director was always choosing songs that he had written, the keyboard player wasn't very flexible in playing with others. It always had to be his rhythm and lead, even when it didn't fit the song well. The other guitar player and I tried over and over to tell him that his arrangements didn't work, but he just got defensive and said, "I'm a professional musician; I know how it should sound."
I've voiced my discomfort to a few friends and choir members and was told to wait it out. "It will pass soon," they said. Well, it hasn't passed. Not only did I feel stifled in my ability to serve through song, but I also didn't even feel able to worship with the group. That's when I realized I needed to leave.
The only reason I write all of this is that I know that no one here will read i t. I don't think the director and keyboard player are bad guys; they're just a bit misguided. I pray God will use the choir to touch hearts and lead worship to bring glory to Himself. I just can't be a member at the moment.
The good news continues!
I was hanging out in my sll with a friend when someone came to tell me a guy was at the dorm door looking for me. I bounced down the stairs to investigate. My friend West was at the door and exclaimed, "Shane's here!"
"Shane?" I knew I should know who's she's talking about.
"Yeah. Shane la-la-layman, loman. From San Saba."
"Oh, really?! No kidding! Where is he?"
West works in the chain room and hands out clothes to the new guys coming in, so he took me over there to see my old friend. Shane is one of the only guys I kept up with when I left San Saba. In fact, my mom got "blacklisted" from his mailing list for sending my letters to him (inmate-to-inmate correspondence is not allowed.) Shane was a huge encourager as a Christian brother over there.
As soon as I saw him I called out his name, walked over and embraced him. We did a quick "How have you been?" and traded a couple stories before I headed back to my dorm. I'm excited to have such a good friend back on a unit with me again. It's just been blessing after blessing lately.
More great news to pass on! Another big shipment of donated books arrived, this one larger than before.
Last week, I sent a thank you letter to the person who sent the first box of 35 books. It's the least I could do after such an awesome gift. Well, today we received another box from Simon and Schuster. We opened it up and found 60 books inside!
Their subjects are all over the place, a huge variety. They even tossed in a few signed copies of a few titles, one of which is "Jarhead" by Andrew Strosser. How crazy is that?! This relationship with Simon and Schuster has been a huge unexpected blessing.
My mom also traded in a bunch of Bible commentaries (of which we have lots already) to get more desirable books from Half Price Bookstore. I didn't count them all, but it was enough to fill up two good-sized boxes. Thank you to her and to my friends in Dallas who provided the currency for bartering.
I had an exciting package come in the mail today! Four graphic novels, on loan from Booksfree.com (a Netflix-for-books service) arrived in two separate envelopes. This service was given to me by my folks as an early birthday gift -
one month early, to be exact. Just like Netflix, you set up a queue of books online. Booksfree uses the queue to send books as they are available and as many as are allowed on your plan.
I don't read books - real books - fast enough right now to make good use of a subscription. Work, rec, and church activities eat my time up faster than Pacman can eat those little balls! However, I love to read comics and can blaze through a graphic novel faster than proper books. Enter Booksfree.
Before I asked to get the Booksfree subscription, my mom scoped out the site, along with some other book rental sites, for titles and writers that I'm interested in. Booksfree happened to have nearly all of the items I asked about. So, it was Booksfree that won out. My mom used my list of titles to start a queue.
At the top of the queue: old school samurai rabbit Usagi Yojimbo. The first three collections of comics arrived today along with a collection of comic stories called "Fables", which is an offshoot of a running series. When I finish with them, I slide the books into the prepaid plastic envelopes that came with them and ship them out. Pretty cool, huh? Then I sit back and wait for the next batch to come in. That's one thing I've become very good at over the past few years - waiting.
I'm excited to catch up on some stories and artists that I've missed either form negligence while I was out or inability since I've been in prison. There's some really good stuff out there.
