The journal of Mantus

Table of Contents:

April 28, 2005, 11:35pm

Well, I'm going to make yet another attempt at this journal project. I can't ever recall how many failed attempts I have made thus far. I was of the opinion that my thoughts are better off encased safely, and that my thoughts are better off encased safely, and secretly, in the dark confines of my mind. If truth be told, however, I would like to share my thoughts, opinions, likes, dislikes, etc., with whomever may be interested in reading the ramblings of a man confined to a cell 23-7.

Since I will be spending time with you, I guess a formal introduction is in order. My pen name is Mantus. I am 33 years of age, and I'm sentenced to life in prison. For all of (5) five months of the last 10 years I have been confined in Administrative Segregation. A prison within a prison for the "worst of the worst."

I spend a lot of time reading, studying law, working out, and writing. There is also a favorite pastime. In spite of my situation, I pass the days in a relatively good mood. I do enjoy writing very much and hope to pen something worthy of publication one of these days... or years. And although I hope to write something of interest for you, I'm sure that you'll understand that it's primarily for me. Humans are a social animal by nature, but I am limited to the amount of socializing I can do in here. Pen and paper are a great escape. Second only to a good book, so I will take this opportunity to "kick it."

April 29, 2005 11:17pm

I was already laying down, ready to call it a night after listening to Real Time With Bill Maher on HBO, and then I remembered "you." So here I am. I purchased a new radio this afternoon (had been without one for 3 weeks) and was able to listen to the Houston Astros play (and lose to) the Chicago Cubs. The good thing is I heard to future Hall of Famers pitch; Roger Clemens for the Astros and Greg Maddox for the Cubbies. Another stat for you fellow baseball aficionados: they are both 300 game winners! Considering that there are only 22 [300+ game winners] in Major League Baseball history, I'd say it was a special game to listen to. To actually witness it would have been the best.

The mind's eye can be a very powerful thing. After so many years of listening to sports and movies on the radio, I do "see" each and every pitch, bat, stolen baseb, etc. I remember as a kid, my two brothers (one older and one younger) and I were always guaranteed a summer trip to the Astroworld and a Houston Astros game. I've always been a big fan of baseball. The Astros in particularly, but I like many individual players, as well. Last year I listened to Randy Johnson pitch a perfect game against the Atlanta Braves. That was the first one I'd ever heard. You have to be a real fan of baseball to sustain a game like that. Some people might consider it too slow or boring. Baseball just takes time, and once you become a fan you then learn to appreciate the intensity of a low scoring game, and especially a Perfect Game -- 27 up... 27 down. Sweet! I thank my stepfather for my love of baseball It was because of his love for the game that we'd make that yearly trip to Houston.

April 30, 2005 10:30pm

I went ot recreation this morning. One hour in a rec "pen" alone, with nothing but a pull-up bar and a basketball (and goal). It had been a few days since I'd been outside -- if that's what you want t ocall it. We're able to enjoy the "sense" of being outside ,but the fact is tha we don't get any direct sunlight, so it's not much of an "outside" recreation. Nevertheless, I did go out and get caught without a jacket. Who would think that it would be so cold (approx. mid 50s) at this time of year? The rain didn't help either. It was a good day and gave me some time to myself.

That's an ironic remark considering that I live in a cell alone. But the many men and women (over 2 million, to be exact) who have done time and are doing time, know that it's virtually impossible to have some tranquil time; especially in Ad. Seg.! There's constant noise 24-7.

I need to clarify something I wrote the other day. It was in reference to being in Ad. Seg. for being classified as "the worst of the worst." That is NOT my definition of myself, nor the other thousands (majority being Hispanics) housed in Ad. Seg. That is the term given to [you] society so they're supply the finances (taxes) to pay for these High Security facilities. The reason for my being housed in this Ad. Seg. is for my prior affiliation with a Security Threat group aka "a gang." I was a member of La Raza Unida prison gang and due to that I was placed in Ad. Seg. I am no longer associated with them and have applied to a program called GRAD (Gang Renunciation and Denouncement) that will eventually lead to my release to general population.

I'd like to encourage anyone NEVER to join a gang; in prison or out. There is no future in that lifestyle. I never joined a gang as a kid, but once I came to prison it was the thing to do. Some people who don't know better claim that guys do it out of fear. I'll concede that there are many that probably do. However, it's not something you can hide. I assure you, the truth will come out. Personally, I did it to represent my hometown area and everyone I grew up with that had done time was in it, so why not? It took me nine (9) years, and coming back to prison with a life sentence (after doing an 8 yr. sentence and a measly 5 months of freedom to realize that joining a gang was a VERY stupid thing to do. A little late? I don't think so. As long as I'm alive, I don't think it is ever too late to right a wrong. Maybe I can save someone from making the dumb mistakes that I, and so many others, have made. Prison is such a lonely, lonely life. I've lived with thousands in different prisons here in Texas, yet ironically, I've never been, and felt, so lonely in my life. That's the hard part of doing time. That's what eats away at you on a daily basis.

I've got three kids that I've had to watch grow-up from behind a pane of glass. My fourth and youngest at 2 yrs. old, I've had to watch grow through photographs. For all I know I may never get to see her in person. I may never know the sound of her voice nor the music of her laughter. Not very encouraging thoughts, but they aren't supposed to be. We make decisions in life, and there are always consequences; good and bad. Make good decisions and you will, more often than not, reap good consequences: Makes sense, doesn't it?

Today is a good day to be alive.

May 2, 2005 5:50pm

Missed a day yesterday. Yesterday was Walpurgisnacht... the night all manner of demonic entries take flight, symbolizing the fruition of the spring equinox. Needless to say, I was in a spiritual state of demonic revelry. And today is another day.

I've been contemplating an issue concerning an article by a female inmate that I read in the Texas prison newspaper, The Echo. In said article this woman prisoner witnessed the suicide of a fellow female prisoner who was neither friend, acquaintance, nor for of a "K.G." [Name withheld out of respect for her privacy.] K.G. is also in Ad. Seg. on her respective unit, and describes how she was affected by this person's death. K.G. had found herself lacking in compassion and emotions (which prison can do to a person) prior to this other woman's death, but now she found herself "deeply saddened, troubled, straight up disturbed" by the event.

She has found those emotions that had been lacking for so long and now she questions whether she's "wrong for hoping, even thinking that some good can come from this occurrence," and whether she's wrong "for being grateful that [she's] strong enough not to go that same route."

Now my dilemma is whether I should write The Echo and voice my opinion. I wonder, because I have a very brutal opinion of suicide, and attempting of the same. I strongly believe that it's cowardly and selfish. Barring terminal illness or extreme cases of deformity, I see no justification for such inconsiderate acts.

At one time, before I was ever sentenced to life in prison, I thought that death would be preferable to spending one's life in prison. But now that I am faced with the prospect of dying in prison, death is the last thing I'm eager to face. Granted, prison is not the holiday inn, but it's far from the hell that people in the world are suffering through as I pen these words now.

We've subjected our lived-ones to enough emotional trauma by placing ourselves behind bars in the first place. I cannot and will not allow myself to feel sympathy for a man or woman who harms themselves simply because they feel that they can't go on. That's the easy way out, and now they've left their lived-ones bearing the burden. That's not fair to them.

There are many moments when I feel angry or depressed. In time it will show in my writings, but not once does the though of suicide come to me as the solution. I am fortunate in that I have the greatest mother and kids. Despite my MANY faults they have NEVER turned their backs on me. And they have every right to. It is for them that I strive to live every day. I don't hold to any belief in some life beyond the grave. As far as I'm concerned, this is it. If I have to love them and enjoy their company from prison, then so be it. That's what I'll do. Some people would be happy with that. I'm not letting prison keep me from being happy and living my life. One thing my mother always communicated to me was that no matter how bad we think we have it, someone always has it worse. And not all prisons consist of stone and steel.

So everyday I make an attempt to enjoy it for what its worth. Every visit and/or letter to/from with a loved-one is spent laughing and living for the moment. It's not always easy. Hell it's not EVER easy, and occasionally tears do fall. But you can NEVER give up because you're not only living for yourself, you live for each other. It's that unconditional love that keeps everybody going and hoping, for one more chance. You never know. You just might get it. Stranger things have happened.

I want to apologize for my disdain of suicide, and the attempting thereof. I adhere to a firm belief that self-preservation is the highest law, and I'll never waiver from my stance concerning this issue. I applaud Ms. K.G. for her strength, mentally, and her optimistic perspective in a world where pessimism reigns supreme... in most cases anyway.

May 3, 2005

Well, it was three years ago today that I was released from prison after completing an (8) eight year sentence day for dreadful day. Five short months later I found myself back in jail for Capital Murder and here I sit as a result, sentenced to life in prison. Good, you might say. However, if you "really" knew the truth, you might feel differently. I'm not here to explain my innocence.

I wrote The Echo today. I had to express myself. The subject of suicide is like religion: I cannot hold my tongue when either of these subjects arise. Sometimes my brutally honest point of view can be offending, but I don't intentionally set out to hurt feelings. Those are very serious subjects, and sugar-coating my disdain for the both of them would detract from my true feelings. I believe that if a given subject is to be discussed then honesty by all parties involved should be a requirement. Personal feelings be damned. One can accomplish that without being rude. Sometimes you'll still inadvertently hurt some feelings. That's just how it is.

In this place dishonesty is like oxygen... EVERYWHERE! I pride myself in my honesty. I'm a fair man. A truthful man. Far from perfect, obviously, but who me perfection and I'll show you a fake. Nothing is perfect. But then perfection can be relative. Right now perfection would be home. For another to be away from home might be perfection. Perfection is in the ye of the beholder, and an illusion to boot.

I do feel better voicing my opinion to The Echo after all. I wasn't rude so maybe it'll be printed. Regardless, I feel good about it.

May 6th 2002 11:00pm

How time flies when one is having fun. Unfortunately that wasn't the case for me. I've been submerged in the arid wilderness that is our legal system. Besides researching case law for my own habeas corpus that I intend to file in another year or so I have been researching some divorce cases for a dear friend's divorce. I figure that even with my limited experience I can save her hundreds of dollars by drafting up all the paperwork for her. After all, an attorney will only do the same as long as the other party isn't contesting the divorce. By the time I'm through reading and jotting down notes -- and stopping for my 2 hr. workout -- I just want to relax and listen to some baseball (Astros have lost 4 in a row!). The days around here are so repetitive that it is sickening A LOT of the time. Imagine "Groundhog Hog Day" for years and years and years and years. In reality, some days are better than others. I like keeping myself occupied because times DOES fly by very fast, and ironically, I do have fun doing something productive like legal work. I learn while helping others, so it's a win-win situation. Not a bad start. Until next time... Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

May 8, 2005 7:51pm

It's a very rainy day today. I heard earlier on the radio that there were tornado warnings in the Houston, Texas area -- which is where I'm at, Huntsville, Texas, to be exact. The first Texas prison ever built is not far from here. It's called The Walls unit because it's smack-bad in the middle of Huntsville and surrounded by a very high red-brick wall. I passed through The Walls unit in May 2002 when I was released after doing an 8 year sentence. Back in the Bonnie & Clyde era they attempted a jailbreak (or a break "into," actually) of The Walls unit. I can't remember the specifics to that incident, but it's an historical fact.

So Today is a lazy day. The rain probably ruined thousands of Mother's Day bar-b-ques. We didn't even get our 1 hour recreation today. This is the 4th time in as many weeks. No explanation or anything. Barring a lockdown, we are entitled to 1 hr. a day... but like today, it doesn't always happen. What can we do about it? Oh sure, we can complain, but the powers-that-be can concoct some "reasonable penologicial justification" for depriving us of our 1 hr. of recreation without an explanation. And they will. Tomorrow is another day.

I find it a little difficult writing to "you," but not because I don't have much to write. On the contrary, I have so much to write but It can appear very pessimistic at times. One could get the impression that I'm a depressed, bitter man, which is so so far from the man that I am. I do tend to inadvertently convey a somewhat dim view of certain aspects of life. But that's because although I love life (even though I'm in prison), I'm not disillusioned with some belief in (of) "a richer life beyond the grave."

As a matter of fact, I believe that once we're gone, that's it. It is a dismal thought, but it's my belief. I cannot will myself to accept that there is some "God" that sits up in some unseen paradise monitoring whether we're naughty or nice like some omni-present Santa Claus. Where was this "god" when Southeast Asia was massacred by the tsunami earlier this year? It's ridiculous to justify that as "God's will."

Many "Christians" think that if a person doesn't believe in one mythical deity or another, that said person can't have morals. "There is nothing inherently sacred about moral codes." Well, I like to convey my opinion in my prose and I won't apologize for what I believe. Live and let live, I always say.

May 9, 2005 5:17p,

Went outside earlier this afternoon. The recreation yard was DISGUSTING! Bird droppings -- literally covered everything. There was even a dead baby-bird in one guys rec. pen. That's not the first time dead birds have littered our recreation area. It's supposed to be washed every night, but for the last week it's been getting worse. Nobody should be expected to have to recreate in an area like that. I know that place is just crawling with diseases. The Sergeant was out there and told me to "write up " the Captain, because it's his responsibility to make sure it's cleaned every night. I have to make an attempt at a "journal resolution" first. That means sending a request via an I-60 form to the Captain. If the issue isn't resolved then I can file a Step I Grievance. It's not always the safest thing to do (writing up a Captain) because retaliation does happen in seemingly "inadvertent" incidents. Maybe you're "jacked" (slang for being deprived of something without your consent, i.e. recreation, chow) for your one hour of recreation... or worse.

I've never personally had any problems with officers before because I make it a rule not to socialize with any of them in any way other than what's necessary. I treat them all with the courtesy in which I expect in return, and those that have serious attitude problems, I steer clear of. But when it comes to my health, I'll not hesitate to write up any officer, regardless of this rank. It's not like he has to personally wash down the rec. yard. All he has to do is make sure it's done. How hard is that?

At times it's dirty but this was the worst I'd seen it. There was not a clean spot out there. The problem is that the roof is covered by aluminum, and the aluminum is supported by these iron beams. It's along those beams that the birds, mostly pigeons -- nest. That's hwy every now and then you'll find a dead baby-bird out there, or even broken eggs. Anyone who's had the opportunity to smell a rotten egg knows that it's a very, very strong pungent stench. Imagine several mingled with feces and the occasional bird corpse(s). Nothing nice, I assure you.

But, the bright-side is that it was a nice day. The sun was bright. Well, we've got no "direct" sunlight done to the aforementioned aluminum roofing. Nevertheless, we can see the brightness in the distance. I remember my first job in 2002. I was painting a fence surrounding the pool in an apartment complex in Corpus Christi, Texas. It felt so good to feel the heat of the sun beating down on me. A lot of people take that for granted. But when you've been deprived of that luxury, and so many countless others, you learn to appreciate them more. And them sometimes you forget about what you went through while in prison. You forget how it feels to live in a cage and treated like someone not worthy of respect. And then you find yourself right back in prison. Not all, of course. Some ex-convicts make it. But the recidivison statistics are proof that the majority always come back to prison. It's a big cycle... much like the food chain. Only in this one, it's humans preying upon humans. But the penitentiary industry is a money-maker. In Texas, prisoners aren't paid like in federal prisons and many other state prisons. Big money in the prison industry. What can I say, though. I shouldn't have come back. Never should have come in the first place.

May 10, 2005 7:20pm

"You"

It amazes me how some people make an effort to do for others. I don't refer to those people that do so with an interior motive, either. But this writing tablet, for instance. It was give to me -- and to many others -- by a man that knows absolutely nothing about any of us, except that we're in prison. And that we're human, in spite of our present situations. This man takes time out of his own life to make these things happen for us prisoners. He has volunteers, so I can't leave them out. They deserve props as well.

My mother and father raised me and my brothers to be God caring, respectable people. They really did a lot for us and I chose a different path. We aren't criminals per se. Which seems a bit ironic to say considering we've all 3 been to prison -- two of us are sentenced to life now. But we weren't criminals in the sense that we were out robbing, stealing, dealing drugs, etc. Our mistakes were more from our impetuosity, than from our being career criminals. The morals inculcated in us were never compromised because of our mistakes, however.

Since I've been doing time I've tried to do for others that aren't as fortunate as I am. Thankfully I do have a loving, supportive family, and if I can help someone out, then I usually don't hesitate to do so.

I say that I don't "usually" hesitate, because although there are many decent people in prison, there are many that I call PSYCHIC VAMPIRES. Those are the ones that masquerade as a "friend," but their true motive is to "leech" off of you. In here we call that "running game" on a person. It's an unfortunate situation, but it's a part of prison life that can't be ignored by anyone.

By the same token, there are some very good people wasting away behind bars. I've seen artwork that is mind-blowing. And to think society deems many of us not worthy of another chance. Can you blame them? Should we blame them? In part, yet. I'm not implying that anyone -- other than myself -- is responsible for my being incarcerated. But the "stigma" that is placed on prisoners to justify outrageous sentences or the mistreatment that many of us are subjected is wrong. Ad for that, the powers-that-be are at fault.

I concede that punishment is in order. And some people are just too inhumane to be on the streets. There are some very sick, demented people in this world, I agree. However, the vast majority of prisoners are people who would not hesitate to lend a helping hand. Normal people that have made a mistake. Some have even killed. But does that make them an animal? No. Absolutely not. Every single human being is a potential killer. It's just a matter of situation. Any mother or father would kill for their kids. Sometimes people kill out of love. I would venture to say that even more deaths have been the result of love than hate.

Does that justify the action. No. But these incidents weren't all acts of pleasure. Ted Bundy, Richard Kamirez, these guys derived a sick pleasure from killing. Most of us in prison for murder didn't, don't, and wouldn't take pleasure from it before, or ever. Some were spontaneous acts of passion, love, hate... or protection. But in a court of law, that's not an excuse. I can understand to a degree. But not everyone knows how it feels to have your own life threatened. We need to stop and consider that "maybe" some of us had no alternative at that point.

I guess my point is that a lot of us are real good people who would -- and do -- go out of our way to help others. We've done what according to the law, was wrong and we're definitely paying for it. You can believe that. People who THINK that we've "got it made" because we don't work or pay bills, obviously have NO IDEA what they're talking about! I've got news for them:

We are paying with our FREEDOM! And that's priceless. I'd take a job in a manure plant for minimum wage if it meant that I could be home nights with my family. We're sent to prison as a punishment, not TO BE punished. To the countless people like Gary and his volunteers, I thank you. And that's the end of my rant.

May 12, 2005 10:37pm

An extremely boring day today. Don't know why but I woke up a little on the downside. Maybe it had to do with receiving word form home. My Mom is so hopeful that my brother and I will both be out soon. She has so much faith in her Catholic belief and I can't allow her to be disillusioned. That's a sure remedy for disappointment.

I try to explain to her as comforting as possible that the chance of us getting our convictions overturned (without professional legal representation) is ZERO to none. Sure, the possibility is there. It'll continue to be there until our appellate remedies are exhausted. Once that happens, and our convictions are continuously affirmed, then our convictions will be finalized. That's the real deal, though, and we can't overlook that. We can't sit around praying for something positive to happen. It's a ridiculous concept and I just can't accept it.

I respect my Mother more than I respect anyone else and I would never be outright rude where her beliefs are concerned. But she knows how I feel about it. All I know is that the only way to get positive results is to actually do something positive. Praying in my opinion, is a fruitless act that's equivalent to sitting on your hands. I'm just honest about our situation here and I accept it. I think it's better for all of us if we prepare for the worst while hoping for the best.

May (Friday) 13, 2005

And it's only appropriate that I sit down and pen a few words on this splendid day (or night, rather) of darkness.

I wonder where all the hype about the 13th (on Fridays) arose from? I vaguely recall reading something about the origin of that myth. The older Friday the 13th horror movies really played that day up as well. I can't seem to remember "exactly" what I read concerning that day.

Well, considering that I'm a big jar of things "dark," I find Friday the 13th exciting in a somewhat child-like manner. I think that most everyone maintains the little kid that they were at one time. Or at least they SHOULD. I certainly do, and my own kids will attest to that. For 5 short months I got to spend some valuable time with them and they will tell you that day, for them, spells FUN! My two youngest had no prior memories of me as they were both babies when I was first incarcerated in 1993. I watched them grow from behind a pane of glass and photographs.

My oldest was 5 at that time, so she had little memories but nothing compared to the 5 months we all shared like 4 kids with permission (my permission) to have fun, fun and more fun, no matter the cost. My oldest daughter (oldest period!) told me at a recent visit that she tells all her friends that "Nobody has a dad like [her] dad." She said that she tells her friends of some of my crazy antics and they are surprised that someone's dad would act so silly. How many dad's grab each daughter by the hand and take-off skipping through Wal-Mart or H.E.B.? VISUAL: Heavily tattooed Hispanic male in baggy 501s and black shirt bearing some death-metal bands logo; and wearing steel-toe boots, skipping merrily throughout Wal-Mart to the bewilderment of all other shoppers! Ha-ha!

My appearance belies my true nature: Fun, easy-going, courteous, respectful and very loving of my family. It jus so happens that I like fast, aggressive music. I've always been attracted to the "dark side" of life, but not in the sense that it lead to criminal activity. I've had two felonies in my life. No juvenile record whatsoever. I am not opposed to violence when deemed necessary, although I would prefer to avoid it all together. Unfortunately, that's not always possible. however, I'm NOT violent for the joy of being violent.

But I do like dark imagery. I like aggressive imagery. And Friday the 13th is symbolic of all things dark. In the world it would have been a night or horror movies or a costume party. After all, there are no rules that costume parties are strictly for Halloween (Although Halloween is the BEST time for one), and even if there were... well, rules, as they say, were made to be broken. Halloween is the second most important holiday [Ones birthday is fist] to the Satanist, so that was always great times.

Not a bad day considering that we got "jacked" for recreation yet again. Oh well. One of the many past and of the many sure to come.

May 15th, 2005 3 o'clock on the dot.

Not a bad day today. For a Sunday, anyway. They're usually a little dull for some reason. Well, except during football season. Today is a good day, though. No particular reason, but the fact that I'm still breathing and sane (or am I?) is reason enough to warrant a smile.

I received some books from Fishline (another project for prisoners that was started by another exception person by the name of Ramsay) and started reading one by George Crile called "Charlie Wilson's War: The Extraordinary Story Of How The Wildest Man IN Congress And A Rogue CIA Agent Changed The History Of Our Times." How's THAT for a title?

I'm only on Chapter 3, but as I recently told Ramsey: This is a perfect example of who the "real" criminals are. These suit and the guys that form our government are the "real" criminals, but the difference is that since they make the rules, they are permitted to break them. That is, until it embarrasses the whole dirty bunch of them. Then the majority will leave the others our in the cold, branded as a traitor, renegade, misfit, etc.

I'm not very knowledgeable where the political world is concerned, but not to the extent that I can't see the corruption that encompasses every facet of that realm. From Nixon to Clinton to Bush, the dirty deeds continue to pile-up. And the really depressing (and perplexing) thing is that the USA voted Bush in for a consecutive term. Here's a man, sending young kids to die for a life. He's a hypocrite and a liar. If he were so true to his belief, then why hasn't he convinced his own jobless daughters to go fight the war on terror? As our own "Chief in Command," what better example than to encourage his own kids to risk their lives to a war on terror that their own father started? He wouldn't dare subject his kids to the harm that he so strongly asks of others. He wouldn't ask his kids to die for his beliefs, but he'll surely ask everyone else's to.

As governor of Texas, George W. Bush shattered the record for executions in Texas. The parole rate dropped to an all-time low of 19%. He denied a stay of execution for Karla Faye Tucker in 1998. She was a "born-again Christian," and the first woman sine the 1800s to be executed in Texas. George W. Bush could have saved her life. After all, he claims to be a man of God himself. If there is a such thing as hell and Satan, George W. Bush is all that and more. Evil personified.

Today is still a great day.

May 16, 2005 5:56pm

Another great day, today. Went to recreation earlier and played a game that is called "Hustle." Since we're in seg. we don't get to interact directly with one another, so it's impossible to play an actual basketball game. However, convicts are not one to be deterred by such a small formality. We make up games that entail shooting the basketball individually, either by a two-count for each basketball that goes in the basketball or single-count. There are different games: 31 Tip-in; 21 Tip-in; Straight 25; and (my favorite) Hustle.

Hustle can be played by 2 or more players (or even partners). Our respective rec. pens are approximately 14' x 14'. Each player starts in one corner furthest from basketball and on a call of "Ball" they start shooting. You can't shoot form the same corner consecutively. You have to run corner-to-corner. All shots have to be made from the two furthest corners and each basket counts as one point. You have to run -- or "hustle" -- the whole time. Hence, the name "Hustle." The first player to 15 (or 21) wins. Let me tall you, and hour of hustle will leave you so depleted that when it's bedtime you'll sleep like a baby.

It's a great endurance game. Not just anyone can play back-to-back games of Hustle for a whole hour. I'm proud to say that at 33 yrs. of age, I can. I'll be 34 on the 22nd of August and for the last 10 years I've put a lot of time into taking care of myself; physically and mentally. Prison gives a person too much time to think, but there is some good that one can take from it. Considering that if worse comes to worse, I won't be eligible for parole until I'm 71 yrs. old, I want to do everything within my power to make it to that age. 2042 is the year I'll be eligible.

Believe it or not, I look forward to the future. I realize that mine may not be as colorful as another's, but I also realize that it doesn't have to be dark, either. It'll be whatever "I" make it out to be; in prison or out.

I'm a fighter and a survivor and being sentenced to life in prison won't change that. It's even more of an incentive to continue fighting. A lot of good things have come from men and women behind bars. My objective is to become part of that statistic. In prison. In the world. Doesn't matter. We can all make a difference for the better. It doesn't matter what religion you believe in, or even if you don't believe. It's what you, as an individual, decide to do with the hand of life that has been dealt to you that ultimately matters.

It's obvious that I screwed up my first "hand." Maybe this time I can do something right. And If I can somehow touch one person's life in such a way that will keep them from traveling down this lonely road that leads to prison -- and DOESN'T STOP BEING LONELY -- then it'll all be worth it. I have 3 teenage kids that mean the world to me. I'm very proud that they appear to be on the right track. My 16 yr. old daughter stumbles, as 16 yr. olds will do, but I try to encourage her not to fall. But if she does, dust herself off and keep on keeping on. Prison is no goal. I'm not saying that some people don't belong here. Hell, some people believe that I belong here! I know that I don't. But as long as I am subjected to this life, then I have to continue fighting. Best think that anyone can do though, is DON'T do anything that warrants incarceration. It's pretty basic if you stop and think about it.

May 18, 2005 10:37pm

I'm not sure where these days go. Before I realize it they flash by, and I'm behind on things that I need to do. Oh well. That's life.

I finished typing up the divorce petition for Andrea. I'm sure that everything was in order. Lawyers are such crooks. A lawyer would have charged her a good chunk of change to do what I did for nothing. She offered me $200.00, but I turned that down. That's too much. I don't mind her wanting to give me a few dollars, for my time, but I couldn't accept that much. Like I've said before: I am honest and fair. I believe in Karma. A person doesn't need some god to know that you're a good person and do good things, then it all comes back to you. There's nothing sacred about that. That's just Life; karma. Something that I absolutely believe.

May 23, 2005 2:50am

Technically it's Monday morning (Victoria Day in Canada) but I have yet to go to sleep, so I'm still in Sunday mode, which is boring. The whole weekend was a bit boring and depressing.

Some days are so good that I literally forgot that I'm in prison. I forgot that I may never be released again, and if I am, I'll be at least 71 yrs. old. I really do forget. Maybe "forget" is not the correct word. But I usually do a good job of blocking those thoughts out. There's no point in dwelling over it. I can't change what is and so I carry on as best as I can.

I am, however human. I am susceptible to pain, anger, and depression just like everyone else. And sometimes the weight of this life sentence is a heavier load than I care to bear. I read "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" over the weekend and so much of Dr. Jekyll's insight about humanity is so true to this day. In all my 33 yrs. I have never read that story. I've heard about it, and seen versions, but after reading the original story I don't think anyone has done it justice.

One thing that's caught me by surprise was how short the story is. It's a great read nevertheless, and it hit so close to home (about humanity) that I was... I don't know... sick. Disgusted. Depressed. It's crazy because I enjoyed the story, but it's what it is. The thoughts are there but the words fail to come. Lack of sleep? And then this pen doesn't' want to cooperate. I'm agitated right now. It's probably best if I close for now and remain silent. I'll leave with a quote from the book:

You must suffer me to go my own dark way. I have brought on myself a punishment and a danger that I cannot name. If I am the chief of Sinners, I am the chief of suffers also. I could not think that this earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors so unmanning..."

May 25, 2005 3:55pm

Arising from 14 hour state of unconsciousness, better known as sleep, I sit here at my small table in a state of semi-consciousness to pen a few words, hoping to get my mind in order.

I'm not sure why I was so out of it. It wasn't a weariness that I felt (feel); it's more of a weakness that I feel deep in the marrow of my bones. I am contaminated with the Hepatitis C Virus, and fatigue is a symptom. That may be the problem. However, I've never been visibly ill, nor have I ever experienced any of the other symptoms like jaundice, loss of appetite, nausea, weight loss. I just feel so damn weak right now. Hopefully a second cup of coffee will revive me.

To make matters worse, the power was turned off when I got up so I'm forced to listen to the never-ending stories of how much money this guy had in the world and how nice his cars were. And then the others with their dang stories. It doesn't matter how the conversation starts, it always goes back to on thing: drugs; how much they did and how much they're going to, or want to, do. And then they have the nerve to declare: I'm never coming back to prison.

Let's face it, if you hang around the barbershop, you're going to get a haircut! As ex-felons the odds are already against us. Add a drug addiction, throw in a little bit of burglary to support said addiction, mix it all up real good, and then let it sit to fester. That is a fine recipe for a trip to prison, and that's EXACTLY where these guys will end up.

I don't profess to be better nor wiser. After all, I lasted a mere 5 months in the so-called free world. I used another recipe for disaster known as gang-association. The drug recipe is like baking cookies compared to this. But the difference lies in the fact that I'm NOT proud of being here, nor of the life-style I chose that ultimately led me back here. I don't stand at the door boasting and bragging as if I've invented oxygen! On the contrary, I'm ashamed of my stupidity. I'm ashamed that I've never been a father for my kids. I'm ashamed that I've done NOTHING but cause my mother pain and heartache. And then I have to listen to this pitiful stories of failure. Only they don't admit that fact. Oh no. They make them sound (to someone who doesn't know better, anyway) like some exotic adventure where all is well. And maybe, at that particular moment in their pitiful life, all was well. It "appeared" to be, anyway. But the reality is that an illegal lifestyle, but it using drugs, selling drugs, (POWER!! WE GOT OUR POWER ON!!) being around others using/selling drugs, gangs, etc., will lead to death and/or prison. NO EXCEPTIONS!

I'm a metal head. I LOVE aggressive metal, and one of my favorite bands from the 80s is Metallica. They have a song (the title track, actually) of the Master of Puppets album called Masters of Puppets. Many people don't realize that that song is about cocaine addiction. "Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings / Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams." The drug is the Master; we are the puppets. I use the term "We" because I was a puppet for a different Master. And if you are in some illegal lifestyle -- however small -- then you, too, are a puppet. And that lifestyle will pull your strings and guide you ever so slowly (or rapidly) to your grave, prison, or both.

If you have the chance to change your path, then the smart thing to do is CHANGE IT! Does it mean that you have to join a convent and abstain from fun? No. I can't explain how to have fun for you, but for me -- at this age -- fun would be a day at the beach throwing the football with my son. Or a day at the pool with my kids as they watch their crazy dad attempt a gainer of the high-dive, only to land solidly on his back! Or a day at the mall where I give each of my children $50.00 and send them on their way to spend as they choose.

All the above I experienced for those 5 months I mentioned before. I may NEVER have that opportunity to enjoy that again. But you might. I'm not usually one to lecture, but what can I say? Here I sit with a life sentence. Sometimes I feel as my life has no meaning. If I can help another, then maybe those feelings will change. And now that I have power I'll put my headphones on and drown out these never-ending stories of failure.

May 28, 2005 2:45pm

I slept late because I went to be late... or early. Depends on what you consider %:00am. One of the perks of losing your freedom and virtually all your rights and being in segregation is that you can sleep when you so chose. We don't work or go to school. Sounds nice, doesn't it. And in a resigned-to-my-fate perspective if is nice. I'd prefer to be at home, of course, but at least I have time to concentrate on my legal work. In population I'd have to work and then there's tv. and like in the free world, many other sources of distraction that would detract from the time that I can actually be doing something productive.

Gotta keep everything in perspective. I don't really like using the word hope, unless it's in reference to working in a "hopeful" way. But I don't sit on my hands "hoping" for miracles. I see that as pointless. Might as well hang up the gloves and give up. I can't do that, especially when I don't belong here serving a life sentence. I'll do all I can to fight for my freedom. Positive thinking + positive action = positive results.

May 30, 1005 5:30pm

Memorial Day. Not too much going on. It really is difficult (for me, anyway) trying to determine what is wroth of writing. I said at the start that it (writing) would be more for me than anything. However, the difficulty lies in the fact that I care what is taken from my writings. It would be very easy to write everyday about my disappointments in myself, my family people around me, and life in general.

It should be obvious that I don't have "happily-ever-after" outlook on life. But I don't hate life. I'm not a negative person, but I also know that life isn't always peaches and crème. These are very negative aspects of life and in life that I don't kid myself about. All one has to do is pick up any newspaper you come across and read it. Or listen to the news on tv or the radio. Negativity is evident everywhere. And I happen to dwell on it (in my writings) because it's my way of dealing with it. It saddens me to no end and that's a lot of the reason why I have such a disdain for sugar-coated reasoning.

Contrary to what one may derive from my pessimistic ramblings, I'm quite the happy camper. People who know how I am marvel at my positive attitude. It amazes them that I can go through my days with a smile on my face. But what purpose would it serve to proceed through life in a perpetual state of depression, anger, or bitterness? It would serve no purpose for me. I can tell you that. So I struggle to maintain a positive attitude under these adverse circumstances. But I can't refrain from voicing my opinion about issues that I find sickening, saddening, etc. and I don't apologize for it.

Today is a day for remembrance. A day to pay our respects to the many men and women who have given their lives for something they believed in. I don't believe in this war going on now, but I wish the many risking their lives the best. It's a sad thing and it shouldn't even be necessary, but it is what it is. Most of America is realizing that slowly but surely. What a crazy world we live in. I've said it once, I'll say it again: Life's not always great. But it's always great to be alive.

July 9, 2005 11:30am

I had every intention of abandoning this journal project, but it wouldn't be right of me to do that, for several reasons. The most important being that so many people have went to great lengths to make this happen. I was excited about it but it wasn't as easy as I thought.

Sure, it's gravy to sit down and write a bunch of off the wall junk. I've done that for a long time. I didn't want it to be that way. I wanted it to be sort of a self-cleansing, I guess. Writing poetry was always therapy for me. Most times the words flow easily from my mind. And I'll be the first to admit that they aren't always the most colorful messages that a person can convey. But that's what's inside me. I can't help it. Believe me, I've tried.

Some people are fond of focusing on all the bright spots of life. In my own time and in my own ways, I do too. But under all that sugary coated optimism, there is always that looming dark fact that is the inevitable bubble-buster that we know as DEATH. A sad, dismal, ending that awaits us all. DEATH does not discriminate rich, poor, young, old, black, white, DEATH awaits us all.

Now if people want to console themselves with the belief of some "paradise" after death, then so be it. I personally do not subscribe to such a ridiculous philosophy. I do understand a person's need for "something." Without a belief in God, heaven, Satan and hell, then there would be no purpose (at least in their opinion) in life. Suicide statistics would be off the charts.

I equate the belief in a life beyond the grave to antidepressants. People can't grasp that we are born to die. Plain and simple. It's definitely a depressing thought, and one which can ruin ones appetite for sure. But that's how it is.

Does that mean that a person has no purpose in life? Absolutely not. I think that we all can have an impact on somebody's life. It can be positive, negative, or a little of both.

I'll be the first to say that I screwed up my life. A royal screw-up that, like the pebble tossed into a still body of water, caused a ripple-effect that disturbed everyone around me. I'm not proud of my failures, and in all honesty, I only label them "failures" because of the pain that I caused my loved-ones. Some things that we do in life are necessary. The so-called "Justice System" may disagree, but then I would be my life that they have never been in a predicament where their life was hanging in the balance. Oh sure, they are quick to scream : DEATH PENALTY, when it suits their fancy. But they damn sure wouldn't be so quick to judge another if they had to experience what many of us behind bars have experienced.

So, anyways... since I failed at being a "productive citizen" on the outside, maybe I can have some positive impact on others that still are outside. I have kids, and in spite of my personal opinions, I encourage them to be successful. I encourage them to DO AS I SAY - NOT AS I DID. Out of the 4, 3 are old enough (17 and 2 13 yr. olds) to understand. I can speak with them on a mature level. I've been in prison for 11 yrs. (total) of their lives. And now they know why. Now they understand. That doesn't make things better, but it makes it easier.

I've explained all I could - no holds barred. A parent shouldn't lie to his children. Especially not nowadays. I'll be 34 in a month and even when I was growing up in the 80s life didn't seem as violent and open as it is now. I was released from prison in 2002 and I was blown away by how much the world had changed in 9 years. I'd read about things in the paper, heard things on the radio, but I was in seg. for the majority of those years. I wasn't prepared for the world.

And that's why parents shouldn't lie to their kids. So they will be prepared for the real world. It's a great, big, beautiful world. A lot of happiness to be found in it, no doubt. But it's also a dirty, dangerous place where pain, in many forms, lurks; waiting to inflict itself upon you. And then there's DEATH. Always DEATH, waiting in the shadows of happiness. So I tell my kids "Be kids." Enjoy being young. DON'T deny yourselves the pleasures of youth. But be careful. Be so very careful, because there's so much to be aware of. And unfortunately, when it's over... well, it's over.

Don't worry about God, Satan, heaven, hell, or anything other than your won preservation, your own happiness. Not selfishly, mind you. But if a person can't do for himself, first and foremost, then how does he expect to do for anyone else? Not possible. I don't think so.

My purpose? Don't know yet. Probably won't ever know. Come to think of it, I don't even try to have a purpose other than writing. Writing is such a powerful tool. As a prisoner, the writings of other is where I find my escape for the most part. I remember reading a quote somewhere that goes (paraphrasing) : You can travel anywhere in the world by simply picking up a book. True. Absolutely true. For a 34 yr. old man who has never left the state of Texas, I am familiar with many other countries and states alike. Thanks to books for that.

Maybe one day my writings, dark as it may be most times, will touch someone in a positive way. If not, that's fine, too. It serves a purpose for me. And at the end of the day, I selfishly admit that that's all that matters.

July 10, 2005 5:55pm

I finished my essay on "Love" today. I guess it came out okay. It definitely took a different turn than I had intended to go. Each draft slowly but surely became more intense. That's good, though. Because love is intense. It can hurt, help, or both. Ad that's something that should be overlooked.

Then you have these preachers sporting this ridiculous notion that we should "love all" and the world will be a better place. On the contrary, that would only render the world even more miserable. Humanity is predatory by instinct. Some even more so than others. There is always going to be those that lie in wait for the chance to take another's love for weakness. And the more people run haphazardly though life believing that they can love all, the more they are inclined to get hurt; physically, emotionally, or both. Even the dearest people in our lives have caused us pain in one form or another. Imagine what a complete stranger can do!

I believe that there are some genuine people out there. People who sincerely care. I wouldn't be writing on this very sheet of paper if there weren't. But there are also just as many bad people (Christian would use the word "evil" to describe such characters. I usually try to refrain from using that label to describe a person. I usually reserve that label for imagery.) out there who would love nothing more than to encounter someone that they can take advantage of. And if we were to go around "loving our neighbors as we love ourselves," and treating others how we want to be treated, then we'd be in a lot worse shape than we are now.

You see it all day every day in prison. The strong preying on the weak. Only the strong survive in prison. It's just a face. Loving everyone will only make you a victim. Trusting anyone will only make you a victim. There are certain levels of trust that are acceptable. Sometimes you can spend several years with another prisoner on the same unit. A bond can form, naturally, but you cannot simply trust another person behind these walls because it's the "Christian thing to do." That's ridiculous, and it can get you killed. That's the bottom line.

July 13, 2005 8:33pm

I started to try my hand at writing a short story about 3 months ago, and it slowly evolved into a bigger project than I anticipated. No complaints here. But it is a bit stressful.

So far I have 5 chapters which - as is - amounts to approximately 65 pages. Sever pages aren't typed out so it's hard for me to determine exactly how many pages they will be. My typewriter broke on me last week, so I'm reduced to writing everything long hand.

This is my very first serious attempt at writing a story. My main problem is punctuation. Not the basics, but the semi-colons, colons, brackets, and those not regularly used are the ones I'm referring to. I don't recall doing much essay writing in school, so that's all new to me. For the most part I think my story is coming along fine. I am by far my own worst critic when it comes to writing. I've written poetry and songs for years and I'm very critical of my writings.

Like the vast majority of prisoners I'm an avid reader. Fiction and non fiction alike. I'm really not very picky, but too much politics can get rather redundant, so I usually don't spend too much time on that subject. I try to keep abreast of the latest news around the world, but for the most part there's absolutely nothing better than a good novel to escape into.

Although I can't say that I have a particular standard that I adhere to, to determine whether a book is worthy or not, I'm sure that I do. It really depends on what I'm interested in reading, I guess. A good analogy would be a trip to the movies. First you determine whether it's a drama you want to see. Or maybe a horror flick. Adventure, or action a la DIE HARD... and so on. Then you go, Well, that wasn't a very good analogy after all, but that's basically the process I go through in choosing a book to read.

Sometimes I want to read romance, sometimes horror, sometimes true-crime... and sometimes (like now) I'll read two or three books at the same time, fulfilling every separate interest.

I said (or wrote rather) all that to say (write) this: I've used my "standard" to determine whether my story, thus far, is any good. And I can honestly say that if it wasn't my story, I'd still like it. I really would.

I've let a couple of guys read it (two guys who I guarantee would not hesitate to tell anyone how (they feel) and they both liked it. They continue to ask for each chapter as I finish. But I don't write everyday. I should, I know. Even Stephen King advises that. But I don't have that talent just yet. And besides, I recently read in a Newsweek that the author (can't recall her name) of the latest vampire book (THE HISTORIAN) took 8 years to complete it. Every review I've read on it was good, so it was obviously a well-spent 8 years.

So a chapter or two (I wrote 2 in two days) every month or so isn't that bd. Maybe I'll surprise myself and, like Harper Lee, write one damn good book. If not, I'm sure my kids will enjoy it.

July 15, 2005 7:05 pm

It had been a couple of weeks since I received word from home - until tonight. Thankfully everyone was/is fine. There wasn't any real explanation about why a response was long in coming. Time just tends to pass by... or slip away, rather, like sand through your fingers. I understand. I'd be lying if I said that it didn't bum me out, though.

But then, anyone in my situation would feel the same. Fortunately my mother and kids have never waivered in their support of me. For that reason I'm very understanding when responses are late and/or visits have to be postponed. Being in prison isn't easy for anyone to deal with. Our loved-ones can, and do, suffer just as much as we do.

Having such an extreme sentence is scary, I admit. It's not so much the idea of living the rest of my life in prison (although that is definitely a scary prospect), but more importantly it's the idea that I won't be around when my mother passes away.

I try not to think about it, but it's a (sad) fact of life. Death is part of life, it's inevitable. I've put her through so much hell in such a short period of time. No mother (or family, for that mater) should have to endure so much. She's such a strong woman, but that doesn't justify my actions.

Ironically, I was the "nerd" of my family. I have two other brothers (one older, one younger), and neither was very good at school. I was a straight A student till my freshman year when I started experimenting with drugs. Even then I managed to maintain my grades and was promoted to the 10th grade whereupon my life began to spiral out of control.

Needless to say, I didn't graduate, but at the age of 21 I attended an aviation school in An Antonio, Texas. I excelled, but once again I screwed up while on break for Easter (Sunday '93, I went home). I ran into an old enemy and there was an altercation and I ultimately found myself in prison with an 8 yr. sentence. I completed that sentence - day for day - and was released in May 2002.

That was supposed to be the happiest day of my mother and kids life. It was also supposed to be a new beginning for me. Five short months later I found myself (and my younger brother) in jail. We were being charged with Capital Murder.

This charge was not drug-related nor to do with anything other than the crime itself. And for the record, WE ARE INNOCENT. When I tell people that I'm sure they're thinking "Yeah right." I would. I can't lie. But that's a fact. In Texas, a person does not have to pull the trigger in order to be a charged with murder. There's a law called "law of parties" that gives the prosecution a lot of room to play with. It allows them to prosecute if they can convince a jury that even though you didn't actually commit the crime, you were "a party" to it because you encouraged, aided or solicited in the execution of the crime.

That was the theory in which I was convicted. The fact that I am a confirmed gang member (have since denounced my association) didn't bode well for me. People in the world tend to be judgmental when the label of "gang member" arises. I understand. Anyway, I didn't start this to argue my innocence.

My point was that, in spite of my (our) innocence, the pain and suffering that our loved ones are having to endure is beyond explanation. The fact that we are innocent only compounds that pain. BUT we have no one to blame but ourselves. We didn't have to associate with a crowd that had no future. We chose to be there. And people were killed. It wasn't our fault, but when alcohol and firearms are mixed, then you can be sure that someone will get hurt; accidentally or as a result of alcohol-induced anger. Never fails.

I've never been addicted to drugs or alcohol. I've never been one to go around stealing or robbing people. I've never sold drugs. I've had two felonies in my life, and was sent to prison for them both.

DON'T think that you have to be a "career criminal" before you get sentenced to life (or worse) in prison. All it takes is one stupid mistake. A mistake that doesn't even have to be made directly by one.

So many lives - other than your own - are destroyed. It's a very serious issue. I'm not usually one to lecture, because sometimes things are necessary. The law may not agree, but if you stay away from those circumstances... those situations, then taking a person's life will NEVER be necessary. And remember : that can work both ways. The life taken can be yours. Or someone you love. It's just not worth it. Not ever.

July 17, 2005 11:15 a.m.

Sunday. Why do Sundays always seem so dreary? It's not because I'm in prison. I can remember being a kid and despising Sundays. First of all, my brothers and I were forced to go to church early in the morning. I hated it. And to make matters worse, we had to walk to and from church!

It wasn't always the impending trek to church that ruined Sundays (although the prospect made for a dismal start to an already drab day), though , Sundays were "lazy-days" for my parents and "chore days" for us. There were no females in our family other than my mother, so my brothers and I did everything from cutting the lawn to washing clothes (and hanging them out on the lawn outside) to raking leaves and dusting furniture.

I can't say that it was always bad. As a kid it seemed like "cruel and unusual punishment" to be subjected to such laborious tasks, but learning to fend for ourselves paid off in later years. That still didn't change the stigma of Sundays for me; they are boring.

Football season is not too long in coming. That prospect actually makes Sundays appealing. But for now, they are still dull. The proverbial silver lining, however, is that once it's over the new week begins. Monday mailcall is always something to look forward to. That is, until the guard passes your cell with a handful of letters for everybody else. Your thought is : Damn! All those letters and I couldn't even get one. Just one would be nice. After all, I'm not greedy.

Ah, Monday mailcall. I've got a big smile on my face as I write just thinking about it. Sometimes you can actually hear the collective groan of the prisoners that don't receive mail. And then you'll hear : "Look out, Maddog, did you get a kite?" "Nah, man. Maybe tomorrow."

And the waiting begins anew. IT really can be pretty funny at times. Sometimes, though - if the letters don't arrive after several days - it's not funny anymore. But then again, that can also be funny too. Afterwards, that is. Prison life is a crazy life. Well, my Houston Astros are about to play so I must close for now.

July 18, 2005 9:15 pm

I was lying down reading a book (about writing) that I received in the mail earlier this evening, and it urges wannabe writers to write - especially when they don't feel like writing. (Incidentally, it's thanks to another great person that I received the book. Her name is Ramsay, and why she does what she does I don't know. I am grateful.)

So, while I was reading (and waiting for shower time) I kept telling myself that "I'll write later." But that procrastinative attitude (is procrastinative a word?) is exactly the attitude NOT to have. And so here I am... with nothing really in mind... just trying to follow the tips that I've read this far, and maintain some consistency in my writing. That's been a real problem. Sometimes I feel as if I MUST have something important to write about I know now that I don't, and forcing myself to follow that line of thinking will only limit me from doing any writing at all.

Having so much "free time" on my hands, I do find myself thinking about many different topics, but I don't put those thoughts on paper. (Not always, anyway. I haven't read very much of this book [WRITING DOWN THE BONES, FEELING THE WRITER WITHIN by NATALIE GOLDBERG], but the little that I have read has been very insightful. Something that she wrote really stood out for me.

She was explaining a process of writing that she personally practices and calls composting. She says "Our senses by themselves are dumb. They take in experience, but they need the richness of sitting for a while through our consciousness and through our whole bodies." She compares our bodies to "garbage heaps" collecting "experience" and "from the decomposition" comes "very fertile soil."

For me personally, the description was very powerful. It just makes so much sense to me, because we all do have so much trash in our lives - some more so than others - but that doesn't mean our lives have TO BE a trash heap. We can produce "fertile soil" from the negative issues in our respective lives. Manure, after all, is a prime fertilizer!

Natalie Goldberg used the "composting" analogy for writing, but I think it can apply to many different aspects of life. It reminds me of something I wrote earlier this week about hoping to have a positive impact on someone - especially my kids - in spite of the negativity that I've always subjected myself (and my family, of course) to. It would be so so easy to give up in life. Writing is something that I'm relatively good at, and well, why not take advantage of that, instead of taking it for granted like I have so many other things in life. That doesn't mean that I have to change. As a matter of fact it's best not to change.

Ms. Goldberg writes : "Yet it is good to know about our terrible selves, not laud or criticize them, just acknowledge them. Then, out of this knowledge, we are better equipped to make a choice for beauty, kind consideration, and clear truth. We make this choice with our feet firmly on the ground. We are not running wildly after beauty with fear at our backs."

I can't explain (yet) the feeling that I got when I read that. (It was actually two chapters, but I didn't want to write it all. I wrote the most effective (for me) parts.) Prison can make a person feel so misguided. I mean, if parole is in your future, then you may not experience that. I don't recall feeling so "lost" my first time. But now, my future release isn't very likely to transpire. That can lead to feelings of worthlessness like all is lost. Those words by Natalie Goldberg gave me a feeling of hope. I guess that's the best way to describe it. But it's not so much a hope in a release. More just a general hope that everything is cool. All things considered, it's really not so bad.

I wasn't expecting any sort of revelation (not as far as life was concerned, anyway). I guess that's why I was effected so powerfully by her prose. It was (is) a good feeling, though. And with that said, I'm going to get back into her book.

July 20, 2005 10:10 a.m.

I picked up this pen with absolutely no direction as to write I intend to write this morning, but then "no direction" (except down, I guess) has been my life-story.

I remember being out in 2002 around this time. Bieng from the coast gave me plenty of opportunity to spend time at the beach or pool. I much prefer the beach, especially since it's more open, more natural. My kids and I went to the beach at elst once every weekend. There was never a dull moment with me, that's for sure. Why stay locked-up inside the house stuck in front of the television when there's so much to do out there? You never heard the words "I'm bored" from me. And if I heard them from anyone - especially my kids - I was quick to resort with "You have no idea what REAL boredom is.!"

Prisoners know the true meaning of the world. Seg. inmates especially. Being out for a measly (5) months is nothing to be proud of. I am, however, grateful that I at least had those (5) months. Whether I overturn my conviction or not I will forever cherish those memories. I know my kids will too.

Not long ago we had a visit and my oldest daughter told me that all her friends always ask her about the time that I was out. She lived with me during that time, so we spent a lot of time together. She told me that her friends say that they wished that they had a dad like hers. That really made me feel GREAT. But, at the same time, a little sad that I had once again failed them. I didn't keep my word. When I was released in 2002. I promised all of them that I would never leave them again and yet, here I am. Probably gone for good this time.

They don't resent for that, thankfully. They are truly THE GREATEST kids a man could ever want. I have a poem that my oldest daughter wrote on my second day out. She was 13 yrs. old at the time and a great writer in her own right. Very mature young girl, especially now at 16. I read this poem from time to time. It's painful because of the memory that I have of being with them. I remember telling her that there's no reason to be scared because I'm home for good. I deserve to experience that emotional pain. That's not self-pity talking. Just a fact. Her poem is entitled "SCARED."

When I first saw you I was scared to know you.
When I first knew you I was scared to love you.
When I first loved you I was sacred to have you.
Now that I have you I'm scared to lose you.

Having such a supportive and loving family makes all this easier. I can't say that it makes it better, but definitely easier. Nothing will make it better until I am once again out there with them. And it doesn't matter if it's 10 years from now or 40.

Although if it's the latter, then chances are it'll never happen. History shows that no man or woman has ever lived for more than 29 years - consequently - in prison.

Under the new life sentence statute, a prisoner has to complete 40 calendar years just to be eligible for parole. Though I cannot say for a fact that one tenth of state and federal prisoners nationwide are serving life sentences under that statute, I CAN say - for a fact - that there are almost one tenth of state and federal prisoners serving life sentences. Since 1992 there has been an 83% growth in the number of prisoners serving life sentences.

The governor of Texas, Rick Perry, recently signed into law a statute that now allows a jury to sentence an offender of a Capitol crime to life WITHOUT parole. Before, the punishment for Capitol crimes were either death by lethal injection or an automatic life sentence. The addition of the "without parole" seems to me to be a little redundant. If no one has ever lived for more than 30 years in prison, then the mandatory 40 years that a life sentence carries is essentially a life WITHOUT parole. But that's politics for you. It's not about the people. It's about the politicians seeking to make themselves look better. They are all about status and they will do or say whatever it takes to get to the top.

People always tell you about lawyers. How they're all hired liars, cheats, etc. Guess what. The majority of governors, mayors, senators, all the way up to the presidency were at one time, lawyers. Not all, but more politics is dirty. It really is. The law can be also. I read somewhere that a trial isn't a search for truth. It's about who puts on the best show. O.J. Simpson. Michael Jackson. Robert Blake. All found "Not guilty." Great shows... or was that the truth? I think we all know the answer to that. There's another saying that we are all familiar with. It goes "Money talks..." You know the rest.

July 21, 2005 11:35 a.m.

I've been listening to CNN since around 7:30 this morning. There were apparently 4 more bombings attempts that took place in London. Fortunately there were no fatalities - this time. Today marked two weeks exactly since the last terrorist attack in London that did claim over 80 lives and wounded countless others.

What is really sad is that these events are only one of the many that occur everyday in Iraq, and that are going to continue happening in the United States. I make no bones about being anti-Bush. I've witnessed his so-called "Christian-based ethics" throughout his tenure as governor of Texas in to his first term as President. Personally, I don't believe in "good and evil" in the Christian sense, but if there were such a thing, George W. Bush is evil personified!! After obliterating the number of inmates put to death (in one year) during his time as governor of Texas, he has now become our president, and now continues to put people to death in Iraq! Only now it's not only Texans!

How easy it is for Bush and now the Prime Minister Tony Blair to say "Carry on with your normal lives." Especially when they are not the targets. Earlier today Tony Blair made a statement saying that he would carry on with his daily life, and he recommended to the Londoners that they do likewise. It's easy to say that when neither Tony Blair nor Bush are riding the public transportation that have become the target of terrorist. They are protected 24-7 by heavy guard. Their transportation is inspected daily before they travel. Of course they will carry on normally.

This so-called "War on Terror" is a losing battle. Sadly, the Americans have been blinded by Bush rhetoric and his lies. He has the American people in a revenge-mode now. His first "reason" for war was the (long forgotten) weapons of mass destruction being produced in Iraq. But now, it's a vengeance tactic. He has the Americans wanting blood for all the American lives taken. I believe strongly in an eye for an eye. But the blood they should be asking for is Bush's. Figuratively speaking, of course.

He is to blame for these kids being killed in Iraq. It was George Bush who called out the terrorist by telling them to "BRING IT ON!" With an attitude like that you'd think he'd pick up a rifle and stand a post. Of course not. He's a liar, a cheat, and a coward. This war will continue to unfold long after Bush is out of office. I guarantee that. Everyday it only gets worse and worse. As long as the terrorist have followers willing to strap-on explosives and sacrifice themselves, then it will never end. It's a very sad thing.

I'm sure that it'll just be a matter of time before George Bush makes a speech extending his sympathy and concern. He'll then begin his "WE will not waiver" remarks. And then he'll go back to his secluded protected world while others live in danger and fear. I can assure you that his family is not at risk.

July 22, 2005 9:15 p.m.

Consistency. It seems like the only thing that I've been consistent at is being Inconsistent; especially where my writing is concerned. It's all good, though.

A funny thing happened yesterday. It was funny to us, anyway. There was a female guard on duty for noon till 6:00 p.m. He's not new, and usually very nice. I'd guess her age at 25, maybe younger. Her mother is employed here also.

Well, the air was off all day for some reason and it was hot. This place has no windows. It's more hospital-looking than penitentiary-looking. There are no bars... solid doors with two 3 in. x 3 ft. windows (side by side) on the door and foodslot about 2 " ft. wide and 6 in. tall right underneath. This is considered a "High Security" unit.

For some reason, Ms. M. was very annoyed. It may have been the heat and all the noise, I don't know. There was a lot of yelling yesterday. We were all frustrated with the heath (the place is usually about 70... nice and cool) and you can just tell by everyone's behavior that we weren't willing to spend another night without air.

So everybody started yelling at Ms. M, telling her to call rank (a ranking officer) so we can see what id the deal with the air. Well, she totally lost it. She started screaming hysterically, saying "If y'all want to (BLEEP) scream, I can (BLEEP) too." Her face was red and sweaty. She was standing right in front of my door when the rant started. The veins in her neck bulged as she went on and on cussing.

Naturally her behavior only served to excite the lot of us (haha!) so we started banging. It was all in good fun, really. She, however, didn't think so. She said "Oh, y'all want to bang now? Fine. I can (BLEEP) bang, too." Then she proceeds to whip out her billyclub (all guards carry aluminum billy-clubs on their hip) and starts banging on the railing. The whole time she's walking up and down the walkway with this twisted look on her face as she bangs. It was wild.

Everyone went wild and started getting even louder. I could feel the rumbling through the floor. She finally left the pod until we all calmed down. When she came back I calmly asked her "Ms. M, did we (meaning her) experience a case of temporary insanity earlier?" I won't write what she had to say about that. Let's just say it wasn't what you'd consider "PG Rating." Haha! It was funny. She reminded me of that actress in Mommy Dearest when she's throwing all the clothes out of her daughters closet while screaming "No More Wire Hangers!!" Haha! Funny stuff.

July 24, 2005 10:20 p.m.

In spite of what I've said about Sundays being boring, today wasn't so bad. I stayed relatively busy doing a lot of nothing. Actually I did a little bit of everything : reading, writing, washing, and listening to baseball. Before I knew it it was showertime (9:30 p.m.) and the day was 2 1/2 hrs. from being over.

Speaking of being over, this month is a week from being over. I'll be 34 next month. That's not great news, but my family usually visits me in August, so that makes it all the better. I don't mind a whole lot the idea of turning 34. Nobody wants to get old, of course, but if you take care of yourself - which I do - then age is just a number. We can't stop aging completely, but we CAN delay it if we try - and I try.

Well, 34 or 54, birthdays should always be celebrated. They are, after all, representative of the day we were brought in to this world. What could be more important than one's own birthday? If you have children then that's certainly an equally important day. All birthdays should be equally important.

I'm looking forward to mine even though "getting old" isn't something I'm in a hurry to do. Who is? I know this : I'll sure do everything in my power to make the very best out of it. That goes without saying. "Life is the great indulgence - death is the great abstinence. Therefore, make the most of life - here and now."

July 25, 2005 8:23 p.m.

There was another terrorist attack last week. The 21st, to be exact. The very next morning the London police shot and killed a man that they believed was involved in that (failed) attempt. According to the reports he was acting suspicious and the police were following him. He lead them back into the underground tunnels and after refusing orders from the police he was shot dead.

Today I learned that the police shot an innocent Brazilian man. And they shot him 8 times! What was really sickening is that the British Prime Minister Tony Blair had the nerve to apologize to the victim's family and then in the very next breath say that "you have to understand that the police are working under difficult conditions."

Is that a justification for murder? Oh, we're sorry that we shot your brother / husband / father / son 8 TIMES for NO REASON other than he looked "acted" suspicious and was wearing a bigger coat than [they deemed] necessary. But see, we're operating out of fear and everybody is a potential terrorist. So, we're sorry but we're sure you'll understand.

Is this what the world has been reduced to because of Bush's "War on Terror?" So now the blatant murder of an innocent man is a tragic event that is chalked up to "different conditions."

This INNOCENT MAN didn't even display a weapon nor any object whatsoever that could have been perceived as a weapon, and yet he was shot 8 TIMES! How many more people will be shot by inexperienced law enforcement officials because they are working under difficult conditions? Another life taken by George W. Bush. And the more these law enforcement officials are frightened by shadow the more innocent people will continue to suffer and die.

George W. Bush continues to take more and more lives than any other dictator ever has. Saddam, Milosevic, and Bush... one and the same. Only Bush has the American public blind. Justifiable Genocide. That's what Bush has masterminded.

I may be overexaggerating slightly, but I can't help being really pissed-off. He's forcing Americans to die and support a lost cause. The suicide bombings have only increased. Two weekends ago over 200 were killed in a two-day period. This weekend there were bombings in Egypt, and another wave in Iraq. It's never going to stop. What should anyone expect? How would Americans feel if another country invaded and tried to force us to change our culture? We wouldn't like it. And frankly, I'd be willing to die for my beliefs. I don't agree with the terrorist. Killing innocent people is wrong, but I'm not so naïve to think that the United States will win this war that Bush started. The next President will be cleaning up this mess well after Bush retires to his well-protected Crawford ranch, living happily ever after. While others suffer for years to come. And that is a FACT!

July 26, 2005 4:52 p.m.

To say that the day started off bad (or appeared that it was) is an understatement. It really pisses me off to be called a liar. Especially when I am not one. That's not to say that I've never spoken a lie. I'm human. I doubt that there is a person alive - or dead - that never told a lie. We're all guilty.

This morning, however, I was not lying - and the guard found that out. Two females guards were passing out breakfast. That's at 2:30 a.m. A time when nobody wants to get up, but around here, if you want to eat, then get up. So I did, as usual. Normally I put the food up for later when I'm awake. But this morning I couldn't go back to sleep (cause I was pissed!) so I ate.

The problem arose when one female officer asked the other if she had given me and my neighbor our trays. The guard responded in the affirmative. She didn't ask me, but I took the liberty to tell her - RESPECTFULLY - that my neighbor and I had not gotten our trays. I want to point out that the one asking is what we call a "NEW BOOT." In other words, she's a rookie guard. In fact she's only been working a short time. A week at most.

Well, the new BOOT ignored me. She didn't even acknowledge my claim. So I called "Ms. J" (the other guard who mistakenly said she gave us trays - she's been around prison for a while) and she came to my cell. As soon as she saw me she said "Oh shoot, my bad," because she realized she had been mistaken.

My neighbor and I got our food and no apology. That may seem like a minor thing but when you're on this side it's not. I told the New Boot that she would learn not to be so judgmental. Just because I'm in prison that doesn't make me a liar, cheater, or a thief. I pride myself in my honesty, and when someone - anyone - judges me prematurely or because of my situation I am insulted.

There are guys around here who will try to "get over" on a New Boot, so I can understand her reluctance to believe me, somewhat. What I didn't appreciate was the fact that she didn't even ask me if I got my tray. I would have said yes if I had. I am not a glutton. I am not a manipulator. I AM NOT A LIAR!

A simple apology would have made everything right. Is that too much to ask? I tell each and every guard thank you when I'm served the required food and drink three times a day. I tell the guard thank you every Friday when toiletries are passed out. They have to provide these things to me, yet I never hesitate to extend my thanks. Being respectful was inculcated in me at an early age, and it's never been a second thought to act differently - even in prison.

I eventually went back to sleep. I couldn't help thinking that it was going to be "one of those days." I arose from my slumber around 10 a.m. and I was still a little peeved. But I didn't want to have a bad day, so I took my frustrations out in a brutal workout that left me too exhausted to be mad. I always feel really great after a workout. It's an excellent stress-reliever. It fights depression. It keeps you healthy. And it just feels damn good.

So now I'm relaxed and the day wasn't so bad after all. If my Houston Astros can win again tonight then the day will be complete.

July 28, 2005 11:20 p.m.

I've gotten so far behind with things that I need to do because I got caught up reading a book by Anne Rule called "...And Never Let Her Go." Anne Rule write true-crime novels. Really good books. I was just in the mood to do some reading. It's such an escape from my present reality. Most times I spot read. I can be reading 2 or 3 books at a time. But this time I decided to read one book (actually I'm reading 2 more, but put them aside). It had been a while since I laid around all day reading. It felt good.

I had to force myself to write tonight. Not much going on. Sometime it's difficult to try and write when my days are so repetitive. Being confined to my cell 23-7 doesn't give me much opportunity to experience new and interesting events. I have been in general population in years past and that is a very interesting place. It's been so long since I have been in general population that when I do get released from Segregation to population, that will essentially be like getting out of prison altogether.

That may seem ridiculous, but segregation is a whole different world. It's a prison within in prison and you have absolutely no freedom. Any time that I do leave my cell I am handcuffed (hands behind back). It's like being arrested over and over. And the fact that we're labeled "the worst of the worst" doesn't help. Most guards that aren't in the know treat us like we're ticking time-bombs. I completely understand their behavior because there are some screw-ups around here. But there's got to be a show of respect - by everyone. Respect may even be too strong of a word. Courtesy may be a better word. Respect is something that should be earned so I guess courtesy is the better word.

I have NEVER lost my Level 1 nor my S4 status. Those are the highest ratings that Seg. inmates can get. I have been in Segregation for 10 yrs total now. That says something about how I carry myself in prison - with the guards and inmates. Being a knucklehead serves, no purpose. Everything is going to be all right. Time to go.

July 30th, 2005 11:07 p.m.

Today hasn't been a very good day. It's like a mental-overload feeling. It started okay, but somehow I found myself looking at my collection of family pictures and that just destroyed me.

That doesn't happen all the time either. To prevent that I don't keep any photos out. Having to see them everyday without being able to actually be with them is more than I care to take. For a while I did have a few pictures displayed on my desk and wall, but it just saddens the hell out of me.

What really hurts is the idea that I'll never have another chance with my mother and kids, and neither will my brother. Prison is such a lonely place and the idea of dying alone doesn't help. The idea of not being with my mother when she dies makes it so much worse that words can't even describe the pain I feel. She has faith in the Christian God, heaven, and all the aspects of Christianity. I don't. In a way I'm glad because it gives her comfort. She believes that there is life after death and that we'll be together again one day.

For me that line of thinking just doesn't seem logical. I don't believe in a Christian God, but if I'm wrong - and there is a heaven and hell - then I'm definitely with her again. I've spoken to preachers and they say the same thing : You have to believe. Therein lies the problem for me; I can't force myself to believe. I agree that we came from somewhere, and we aren't an accident. But why does that mean that some almighty Creator puts us here. The whole Adam and Eve theory is plain dumb. Not a word of it rings true. Nor does it even make sense.

But I do ask myself : Why are we here? Where do we go? Sadly, only the dead know. It's a depressing thought that we live only to die. People strive so hard in life to successful a person is, we all must succumb to death. That is enough to make a person sick, literally.

I wouldn't say that anyone should not try to be successful, whether you believe in life after death or not. Success does make life a more enjoyable place. I'm sentenced to life in prison now, but I've tasted to fruits of success before. Not in vast quantities, mind you, but yes. I've experienced its sweet juices before. I regret not being more successful. That's the best way to travel through this journey called life. A life - alone - in prison is just too much negatively for a person to deal with at times.

I worry about my brother. He has mental issues. He's one who suffers from severe depression and was diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic by doctors in the late 90's. His illness is real. I would do anything to have him released. This is his first time in prison. And with a life sentence, it may very well be his last. My girlfriend (I know. I have not spoken of her. Delicate issue for me still.) tells me that I'm the strongest (mentally) person she's ever met. Little does she know that I'm not as strong as she perceives. Every day I die a little more inside. The loneliness, the guilt for not keeping us out of prison, the guilt for leaving my kids, and the fear of what the future holds for my family is slowly eating away at me.

Suicide is not an option for me. But I fear that my brother may resort to such an act. I maintain the appearance of being "strong" so that all those around me will stay strong. When my mother and kids visit I'm all smiles. Part of which is genuine, because anytime I see them it brings me great joy. Another part just wants to break open and cry. I don't want them to see how much I hurt. I don't deserve the love they would undoubtedly shower me with. I don't deserve their sympathy. But I also can't help how I feel.

Is that where my negativity originates from? Sometimes, maybe. Mostly it's from the sickening realization that we have to die. If there is a God, he has one sick sense of humor.

Right now so many thoughts are bogging me down. I know that I'm depressed, and that I'll get over it, I always do. But that doesn't make me feel better. And even though I'm sure that I'll feel better tomorrow, I'll still be in prison. So will my brother. And in a sense, so will my loved-ones. If there's a God, he owes me nothing, because I have surely done nothing for him. Quite the opposite, actually. But my Mom, through all her pain and suffering, has maintained her faith in him. She's far from the perfect Christian. But then, the "perfect Christian" doesn't exist. So it's for her that I would ask for me brothers release. He's the baby of the family and having him back would fill a great void in her life. If there's a God, I don't ask of anything for myself. Only my Mother, who has been nothing but Loyal, just as God was. Don't prove yourself to me, but to her. Because how can you expect a person not to waiver through the torment of so much adversity? She lost h

Aug. 1, 2005 11:35 p.m.

Here we are, another month gone - another begun. I guess I'm feeling better since my last entry. Sometimes everything seems so meaningless. Being in Seg. doesn't help. It's really not a healthy way to live. Too much time alone to think. Too much time isolated from nature and all aspects of humanity. Humans are a social animal by instinct, but we're totally shut off from any real interaction with others. It's enough to render you paranoid, anti-social, and just plain twisted.

The vast majority of the public don't see that. They feel that we all deserve to be locked away. Until it happens to someone that they love and care for. When that happens they sing a different tune. Then it's "please have mercy!" or "Why must you subject him to such a horrible life style?" Haha! It ain't no fun when the rabbit has the gun. What a pity.

I'm feeling a lot of anger. Not that I'm wanting to vent in anyway physically. I'm just feeling really pissed off about so many things. Everything seems like such a waste lately. Studying the law is so frustrating too. Prison is so frustrating. Well, I though I felt better.

Aug 4, 2005 1:27 a.m.

I have avoided writing for a couple of days. I didn't want to keep harping about nonsense. Well ,it's all nonsense, I guess. But I just needed to let "the wave" pass. Sometimes the feelings of helplessness and abandonment can get too heavy to carry around day after day. That's the hard part of doing time. Anyone can be locked away. That happens everyday of every week.

But it's the emotional and mental misery that takes a toll on a person. That's what ultimately drives a person to give up. I have no intention - no desire - to give up. I can see how it happens though. I try to put it in perspective, seeing it for what it is, and overcoming it. It's hard. Real hard. And I do find myself questioning why anything even matters. Is that normal? I don't know. I do know that it's normal for me and it's how I deal with it. A more important question might be whether it's healthy or not. I don't have the answer to that either, though.

Can 10 years (and counting) in segregation be healthy for anyone? Logic would indicate to me that no, extreme isolation can't be healthy for anyone. But that's exactly what we're experiencing on these High Security prisons. And well, I can't avoid succumbing to the same bouts of anger, bitterness, claustrophobia, anxiety, etc. that any normal human being experiences under these conditions. It's not easy putting a smile on everyday - but I do it. I don't always show it in my entries, I know. This is my outlet, though. I've said this before. But even having said that I know that there are times (like recently) when it's best to keep my thoughts safely encased in the dark confines of my mind.

So many so-called "loved-ones" have let me and my brother down time after time, and I just want to let loose with a non-censored verbal assault sometimes. I don't lack a vocabulary, but there are times when profanity, in all it's distasteful glory, is in order. It certainly "feels" good to spew a relentless barrage of profanity that would make Chris Rock even blush. Haha! I'm better now, though. And so here I am in all my "confused" glory. Life is not always great but it is always great to be alive! I have to continuously remind myself of that.

I'll be 34 in 18 days. The number doesn't sound right. Thirty-four. I can remember 9 years ago when I turned 25, a guy I considered a friend told me (he was only 21 or 22) "Damn, you're half-way to 50." That seems like such a long time ago now. Ironically, I feel the same as I did then. At least I think so. Thirty-four certainly isn't over the hill, but it does seem like I should feel older than I do. I mean, I should feel 34, but I don't. I feel too good. That's a good thing, right? Sure it is. Can't be bad, I know that.

Anyway, I am feeling much better. For now. I intend to celebrate my birthday, of course. Why not? The Astros have been winning. Another shot at The World Series would be nice. Some positive feedback on my case would be nice also. There are many possibilities to look forward to. Stay focused. Think positive and ACT POSITIVE. Have to remind myself of that, too. It's so easy to lose focus and fall into a slump. Slumps can be helpful! They give you time to think and regroup. BUT it can be bad news if you don't find your way out. I have to always find my way out. ALWAYS.

Aug 8, 2005 8:10 p.m.

I've gotten off track here lately. Not for any particular reason. Well, there are reasons obviously, but none life changing. Been working on legal work and without my typewriter the copying process has been reduced to a snail's pace.

On a positive note, my girlfriend, Angelica, has spoken to her law professor (she will be going back to college in the fall - taking Criminal Justice) about my case and he has agreed to review my research. Hopefully he will have something good to say. I only have a tenth grade education and trying to learn the law is like rocket science. Well, it might as well be. It's very complicated. I have begun to understand it little by little. That doesn't "sound" right. Anyway...

The more time I spend reading case laws and familiarizing myself to the many statutes / laws, etc, the more clear it becomes to me. Here's the twist, though : It's all about presentation and interpretation. The laws are already made. It's up to the lawyers to present them (in support of their respective claims) and then for the judges to interpret them. And as everyone should know, interpretation is relative. Take the Bible for example. You put together 4 Theologians to give their interpretation of the Bible, and you'll get at least 3 different interpretations. Maybe not on the entirety of the Bible, but in many aspects of it. And that is similar to interpreting law.

I have read many cases where judges do not agree on one another's interpretation. What bothers me is that a persons freedom literally hangs in the balance of the majorities interpretation. It's basically a you-say-tomato-and-I-say-tomatoe-issue. If that makes any sense.

So here I sit reading and reading, trying to put it all in perspective. I'm not entitled to legal counsel unless I am granted a hearing on my writ of habeas corpus. But the habeas corpus will not be reviewed (unless it's submitted accordingly. "Accordingly" means by standards that only a professional lawyer can meet. Literally thousands of guys (and girls) cannot read or write. An equal number of them that can, can't dot it very well. So when we're faced with filing these writs pro se (on our own) then it's an uphill battle from start to finish.

I will say this : it's not impossible. It's frustrating and confusing and mind-numbing and every other definition for insanity. However, when your FREEDOM is at stake, what alternative does one have? And if worst comes to worst, I may be able to help someone else in the future. So regardless of the outcome I'm not wasting my time and energy. Some convicts say "Don't let the time do you, you do the time." I say "Don't do the time - USE the time."

And so I've been using my time. I have to present my claim perfectly. So much so that there will be no question that I am right and should not be sitting here with a life sentence. That goes for you too, bro. I fight for both of us. If we're guilty of anything it's of protecting each other - NOT murder. The odds are against us, but then they always have been. One way or another everything will be all right.

Aug. 10, 2005 7:37 a.m.

I've been sitting here for several minutes trying to think of something worth noting, but so far nothing has been worthy, except that nothing has been worthy noting!

My attempt at consistency has not been very successful, either. It is much easier said than done. Or maybe I'm just too picky. That's very possible. Living alone and in so small of an environment can make one set in his (or her) ways. At least in my case it has. Another guy and I were having a good laugh about some obsessive compulsive disorders we have. He had never heard of the term OCD before. He was surprised to learn that some of his habits could be considered OCDs. I have them - BAD!

One thing that I've learned. Well, ok, I've learned more than "one thing" in my 10 years in segregation, but one of them is that most of us become neat-freaks. These cells can get dirty FAST and there's no maid service, moms, or wifey to clean up after us. It becomes habit to be constantly cleaning. Even when I was released in 2002 the habit stuck. But then, that's why they're called "habits," right?

My "habit" was inculcated in me at a young age. Other than my mother, there were no women in our household. My brothers and I had to do just as much cleaning, washing, and dusting as we did raking and cutting grass. I miss those days. Don't most adults though? Unless they had a terrible childhood I would think so.

I was listening to the news yesterday morning. CNN, to be exact. They were covering (live) the return of The Discovery from space. I've never paid much attention to that in the past. I recall the one that blew up a couple of years back, and although it was a tragic event, it was nothing that I spent a lot of time thinking about. Yesterday, however, I was really blown away by the fact that these people had just spent two weeks in SPACE! It's still amazing now, but the feeling I got yesterday was like WOW! They were in space! I've never been out of the state of Texas, and these people just spent TWO WEEKS in space! What's even just as amazing is that there are STILL two people up there! They're staying in that space station. That just blows my mind.

I'm scared to death of flying, but I will fly. I've only been up in an airplane once, and it was a commercial plane. It was in a small single-engine Cessna, so we weren't too far up. Far enough to fly around San Antonio, TX. I was going to school for aviation (1992) at the time. Anyway, that was a great experience. Going to space is something I can't even begin to imagine. I'm not so sure that I'll want to go even if it were possible. Something doesn't seem right about leaving the planet. Not for me. And really, it's not the flying that I'm afraid of. It's the crashing that I worry about.

Statistically, traveling by plane is a considerably safer means of travel. But, that does nothing to soothe my fears. Going to space takes a lot of nerve, if you ask me. I really admire those people. One thing that I am going to do if I have the opportunity is jump out of an airplane. I was supposed to do that in 2002. (Make a mental note: JUMP OUT OF PLANE P.S. Don't forget parachute!!) That's as close to real flying as you get. I'd be scared, but I'd love it. I know it!

I have this reoccurring dream where I can fly. It's not really the same dream, but the similarity is that I can fly. I started about 4, maybe 5, years ago. I can't be sure, but it FEELS so good. Just like a sense of falling can wake you, from a dead-sleep, grasping for something to hold on to. The sense of flying that I experience in my dream is priceless! I've wondered what it means. Books on dreams are no help because the ones that I've read all have different interpretations. No help at all. I've come to the conclusion that it's my desire to be free. To me, the ability to fly would be the ultimate.

I have two eagle - bald eagle - tattoos, because they are symbols of freedom. One of them is on my left (back) arm. It's in full-flight and extends from my elbow to the top of my shoulder. It's talons are also extended in front of its body as if its ready to pluck an unsuspecting victim from the ground. It's beak is open and his eyes are angry. The second one is on my right hand. It's on a head shot. He's facing left as if on guard. He's more serene looking, but there's a touch of nobility that all Bald Eagles have.

Maybe my fear of, and desire to, fly(ing) is where the dreams originate from. I don't know. I like them, regardless of their origin. I can't always even remember my dreams, but I can remember when I was able to fly in them. It's been a while since I've had one. I don't think that I've ever made a conscious effort to have one. Maybe. I'll try that. Why not? It's 10 minutes till 9 a.m. How time "flies" when you're having fun. And now, it's time for me to fly...

Aug. 11, 2005 8:08 a.m.

Today I am the eagle. Today I am the great Bald Eagle swooping down from the branch extending over the edge of a high cliff. The wind beneath my 5 ft. wing span carries me over the dry plains in search of an unsuspecting rodent. The vast blue sky is open wide to me. I see a trout swimming in a lake far below with my keen sight. Should I feast? I choose not to. How close the trout was to death. Do they (fish) feel the pain before death? Can they distinguish between life and death? I wonder as I soar steadily over the mountains, over the hills and the numerous bodies of water. Searching for... for what? Searching for nothing, and yet searching. Where does all this come from? I wonder. And, for that matter, where does it all go? How did I get here and where will I go? People say that animals have souls. But I wonder. I wonder if humans have souls. I wonder if there is such a thing as a soul. Souls are like good luck (or bad luck). What exactly is luck? It's not ta 

Welcome to Reality
The place where, inevitably,
death is our final destination.
We're all born to die
with no logical reason why.
We must succumb to such damnation.

Oh well. I'm the eagle flying away from death. Much better than reality. But, alas, it doesn't last. And so I write, searching for everything and searching for nothing as the little red second-hand ticks my life away. It's quiet. My radio is off. Everyone seems to be asleep still, or lost in their own little world while the little red second-hand ticks their lives away as well. It's too quiet. That's too bad. My mind is in overdrive. Too much caffeine and too much free time. Too much ink in this pen. Too much paper left on this tablet. Too many lines on this street. College-ruled. Very smart. The more lines, the more writing. Tricky, tricky. How much time fits on a sheet? Doesn't matter. This exercise [just writing] is insane. It's fun being the eagle flying over the house that Mary built, newspaper covered walls. I like Pearl Jam. Where does the time go? Fifty minutes of writing absolutely nothing. Or did I? Just "writing down the bones." Writing isn't

Aug. 13, 2005 5:20 a.m.

I lost a day somewhere. The eagle was lost. I arose at 9 pm last night and took a nap after breakfast (approx. 3:45 a.m.). For some reason I feel VERY drained. It may be the thought of another dreadful weekend. They're really not that bad. Something tells me that they should be, though, and I guess that's where the seed begins and starts to slowly grow, only to wither and die quickly. Until the next weekend arrives, anyways. And so we truck on.

Last night I received a very interesting letter from a friend. I really don't know him very well - or at all really - but I like to believe he is a friend. Or will be in time. In a prior letter to him I shared with him my religious preference: Satanism. He responded with some rather interesting comments at most people do when the subject arises. A lot of people have a very negative perspective about Satanism. That is understandable considering the many mainstream Christian religions that have painted such a dark picture of it. And there have been a vast number of self proclaimed "Satanist / Devil worshippers" who have added fuel to the fire by committing acts of violence against man (and animal) under the guise of Satanism. When in reality, a true Satanist is totally against such acts, unless it's done out of necessity, not for the sake of pleasure.

I think it's worthy of pointing out that there have been many acts of senseless violence committed in the name of Christianity as well. The Inquisition and Salem Witch (so-called witches) burnings are only 2 of the events that are documented in the history books. I have been reading a book by Helen Ellenbe called "The Dark Side of Christian History" that points out so many more. My point is that there are sick people in this world and it doesn't matter what they believe, because it's not their belief that makes them sick. They were already sick to begin with.

This friend asked me a question that I want to address here because I think this is the best place for it. He asked me if the idea of Satan comforts me in the darkest moments of my life. He pointed out that that was an honest question. I think that was because he felt that I may have been offended or wouldn't have taken his question seriously. As a matter of fact, my first thought was: that's a damn good question! And it is.

Before I attempt to answer that I need to first point out that Satan, to me, is not this diabolical being with horns and cloven hooves. That image was concocted by Christians. That image was taken from the Greek mythical god Pan, and has nothing to do with evil or good! Satan is Hebrew meaning "opposite" or "adversary." Christian adopted the image of Pan and labeled him as Satan because it was a way to scare others into believing what they wanted. It was the Christians way of controlling the people through fear. Luke 14:23 " 'Compel people to come in' By threats of the wrath of God, the Father draws souls to the Son" St. Augustine acknowledges the need for threats in that writing. And it was with the created image of Satan that they would do so.

So my answer to the question is that no, I do not find comfort in Satan. Not the Christians version of Satan, because that - like the Christian version of God - does not exist. I do, however seek comfort in the tenants of Satanism. Better put: I find STRENGTH in my Satanic beliefs. Unlike Christianity, Satanism does not rely on some savior, some redeemer, that will give us the strength to carry on. Satanists are not seeking saviors. We believe that only the strong survive. And the only person that can redeem you is YOU. Satanism is a brutally honest belief. It teaches self-indulgence instead of abstinence. It does not advocated violence, however, we do believe in vengeance instead of turning the other cheek.

I do not find comfort in the image of a devil with horns, barbed tail and cloven hooves. NO. But as a prideful man - a prideful Satanist - I know that in my darkest moments there is only one person who can pick me up and give me the strength, physically and mentally, to overcome those times. There is only one person sitting with me in this cell day after day, year after year. And that person is me. "I am mine own Redeemer."

Again, I concede that many sick people have perverted the minds of those that don't know better. But that has, happened in all walks of life. Mostly in Christianity. The difference is that Christianity concocted the image of a baby-sacrificing, soul-snatching devil that wants your blood. Christians invented that, and the sick people in the world played on that. That's not the real Satanists fault, just like it wasn't the other church members' fault that one of their congregation happened to be the infamous BTK killer. It wasn't their religious preference that caused him to kill and it wasn't Satan. He said it was his "fantasies." In other words, he was just a sick and twisted man.

But I guarantee that every preacher in the world would label his acts as "evil work of Satan." Yet, how many men, women, and children have been killed - mercilessly - because it was "God's will"? The tsunami that killed over a quarter of a million people. Was that an act of good or evil? God or Satan?

I would also note that as Satanists we do use imagery. We do use the inverted crosses, devils, inverted pentagrams, and others, because people need imagery. People need labels. Without them we'd be lost. But they are only that: images. People, of course, will abuse them. We are that way. We abuse drugs, alcohol, food, drink, cell phones, computers, and nature in general. That's humanity. Even these evangelists driving around in Bentleys, living in mansions, and traveling the world are guilty of abusing the belief in God and heaven. They have prayed on the weak and used the fear of "hell" to extract money from them. There are a lot of filthy rich Christians that are fond of preaching about being "humble." I don't know of any Satanists using the image of Satan to fatten their bank accounts. Preaching the gospel is a very lucrative enterprise. But then again, hustling has always been that way.

In any case, I believe that I have ranted enough. I'm not one to force my belief on anyone else. I am very vocal about it when the subject is broached, though. Live and let live, I always say.

Aug. 14, 2005

Actually it's August 15th as I sit on this most uncomfortable stool with a steaming cup for joe (and that dreaded red second-hand counting off each second) before me. 1:45 a.m. is the time, and for the last hour I've been immersed in case laws. So much so that my eyes started to cross and my head began to pond as this inner voice chanted OVERLOAD! OVERLOAD! again and again somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind. I literally swept my arm across the table in mock frustration, knocking everything on to the floor. Everything except my clock, that is. Then I made me a cup of coffee and decided to speak to you, my loyal companion, who is always quick to led an ear and listen patiently as I vent my day's or moment's) frustrations. If only there were more friends like you in the world. An almighty omnipresent ear waiting eagerly to be caressed or abused by words, never judging nor complaining. On second though, as long as I have one like you then it's really not necessary for t

One week from today, I will officially be 34. Wow! Thirty-four. I'm at a loss for words. It's sad that I'm in prison. At 34 most people have a life: house, car, kids, wife, I like so many others, have zero. That's not true. I have a great mother, beautiful kids, and a girlfriend that cares deeply for me (as I do her). That goes a long way; it's priceless. But the feeling of being a failure is always in my mind. And when it's not right there in the forefront, it's always lingering close by. Every aspect of my life at this very moment is a reminder of my failure.

This is not an "Oh, woe is me" rant. I'm simply stating a fact. Anyone in prison has failed miserably. Innocent or guilty, we have failed. Of course, we don't have to continue to be failures. Some guys around here are just plain knuckleheads. It's bad enough that we're here. Why compound it by being stupid? Better put: by "acting" stupid. I say that because I don't believe that anyone is really stupid. But some guys around here go out of their way to make people believe that they are. They feed into the stereotype of inmates. And I go out of my way not to associate with them.

I came to prison the first time when I was in my early 20s. For 8 years I was a gang member. I was involved in things that I'm not proud of. At that time I was an irresponsible disillusioned young man. I was angry and bitter at the world for the hand I'd been dealt. I was devoid of any sense of respect for authority. My mindset was that I was already in prison, so why care. Then I found myself in ad. seg.

Ad. seg., as I've said before, is a prison within a prison. At first I continued on my quest for self destruction. I never assaulted (nor attempted) guards, but during gang wars I caused problems by breaking through the fence separating the recreation yards to get at a rival gang member. On some of the solder prisons (like I was on my first time) the cell doors can be opened from inside. There were several incidents that took place where I "popped" my door to get at a rival. I don't say this to brag. There's nothing to brag about. After all, acting stupid is nothing to be proud of. I say this because even though I'm back in prison, I know that I have come a long way. It took all these years in segregation to tame my ways, but as the saying goes: Better late than never.

I see these young guys acting up, and I see how I was. In retrospect, I think "You idiot!" It's embarrassing. They'll learn, though. If there's one thing afforded to you in segregation, that's time to think. Too much time to think. Slowly but surely they'll realize that they're already in a hole, and all they're doing now is burying themselves alive. I'm glad that I climbed out before covering the hole up. Now that it is covered, I'll never dig another one. Gang life is for suckers. And as (a one week away) 34 yr. old... I mean, ahem... 34 yr. YOUG, I can proudly say that I'm no longer a sucker. I've failed in the past. Hopefully... No, not "hopefully." I will. I will not continue to fail. If I had no control over whether I fail or not then I could leave it to hope. But I do have the control. Always did. Just wasn't always smart enough to steer in the right direction. Until now. It may be a little late, but that's better than never.

And so my friend, with breakfast now approaching I must take my leave. Besides, it's time for another cup of coffee.

Breakfast has come and gone: half-cooked pancakes (3), a serving of bland oatmeal, and some mixed fruit. That fruit is (was) the best. Fruit is a commodity that's not afforded to us on a daily basis, so whenever we are fortunate to have it served, it is (for me, anyway) a pleasure!

I had not intended to pull on your ear again this morning but for some unknown reason I felt compelled to ramble a little more. Initially, I thought: You've never written twice in one day before. And then I though: That's true. That's even more of a reason to do so! In a world so full of rules, this white blue-lined page world has one rule: I make the rules. And the rules are: there are no rules! Okay, so There's a few considerations to be taken, but nothing that would constitute an actual rule.

Also, when I realized how much white was still showing on this page! Well, I felt like what a graffiti artist must feel when he (or she) sees a solid white subway train or a building whose side has been painted white. I thought: Too much white! I must defile the innocence of that whiteness with my "enlightening" prose! Well, that sounds good. In the real world I saw that I needed to take up space. "If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up way too much space!" Here I am reciting airline commercials. If that's not a sign for me to close then I don't know what is...

Aug. 17, 2005 5:47 a.m.

I have a legitimate beef this morning. The actual beef in question arose yesterday when I was given an I-54 Form. The I-54 Form is a Publication Review Denial Notification Form.

This form/notice was given to me to inform me that my October issue of Metal Maniacs was being denied because it allegedly "contains sexually explicit images." Which is contrary to a new rule that came to be as of July 1, 2005.

Said rule defines "sexually explicit images" as "Images that show the frontal nudity of either gender, including the exposed female breast(s)..." Metal Maniacs is a music magazine. A non-pornographic magazine that caters to extreme music lovers of all ages. There has never been anything sexual portrayed in its pages. But under this new blanket rule, even the most innocent exhibits of "exposed breast(s)" will be considered a violation. That will include National Geographic publications that occasionally have tribal women with exposed breast within its pages.

It only takes a little common sense to be able to distinguish "sexually explicit images" for "non sexually explicit images." Or "Non-pornographic publications" from "pornographic publications." Apparently the powers-that-be lack severely in the area of common sense. Their attitude is equivalent to that of the little kid who snickers every time he hears the word shit. Their stance concerning this issue is ridiculous and reeks of immaturity. Any mature adult knows that all nudity is not depicted in a "sexually explicit" manner. But according to the Texas prison rules, even a tribal woman in National Geographic will constitute as a "sexually explicit image!"

That was how my morning started yesterday. I had been up for almost 24 hours, so needless to say, I wasn't the nicest guy on the planet. I've been a subscriber to Metal Maniacs for 14 years and this was first. I know that I was wrong for killing (verbally, of course) the messenger, but the idea of Metal Mania containing sexually explicit images ran me hot! To compound this issue I was not told exactly what the image was nor was I permitted to see it. The only thing I could do was go through a couple of old issues looking for anything that could be deemed (according to the new rule) sexually explicit. The only possibility that I found was a drawing on a black and white album cover. It was a depiction of a corpse (obviously female) with an exposed breast. Call me a weirdo if you wish, but I don't find anything "sexually explicit" about that image.

That may not be the same image for which my October issue was denied, but it is a likely possibility. All ads in Metal Maniacs are paid for by each band's respective record label and usually appear for anywhere from 2-3 months, consecutively. It's ridiculous that such an image would be considered as sexually explicit. I appealed the denial, of course. That won't get my magazine back, but it Is the proper step to take. I intend to fight this rule. The standard for which nudity is judged needs to be changed. Common sense needs to be used. I will fight this all the way.

Aug. 20, 2005 3:43 pm

I have been hesitant to write for a few days now. Seems like within that short span everything has started to fall apart. It started with the refusal of my magazine and then I received word from Angelica. It had been over a week since I had heard from her and that was unusual. A part of me knew that something was wrong. She's decided to get on with her life. I wasn't surprised. For the last couple of weeks the stress she was going through was apparent through her letters. We weren't arguing or anything but there were certain remarks made that said a lot more than the actual words. It happens. I went through this my first time in prison, with my ex-wife and we had been together since we were 14. Angelica and I have known each other for years but we were only an item for a month before I came back to prison. She's been a great friend and I can't blame here. As a matter of fact, I always encouraged her to keep on living. Life is too short to sit around while it passes b

Being sent to prison causes more irreparable damage than people (who've never been or at least know someone that has) realize. It literally destroys families. Love can be a powerful emotion; sometimes bad, sometimes great. But prison can completely obliterate that word into nothingness. Whoever first claimed that "Distance makes the heart grow fonder" obviously didn't say that from a prison cell. "Out of sight - Out of mind" is more like it. The person behind that adage was a realist. That's life, though. Even when a loved-one dies. We grieve and then we move on. That's not a bad thing. That's life. As humans, that's our natural instinct. It's another aspect of our survival instincts. That doesn't mean that we stop loving and remembering that person. We simply keep on living. I would even go so far as to say that that's exactly what our loved-one would want, for us to keep on living.

And, although I'm not dead, I still encourage all those that I love (and visa versa) to keep diving. IT hurts to let go. If anyone knows, I know. I'm far from the only one by I can only speak for myself. Loneliness and feelings of abandonment are BRUTAL! They show no mercy but they fade. You must make them fade. Sometimes the best thing is to become emotionally crippled. Become a zombie. That doesn't seem like the healthiest solution but it sure can be the safest. The more painless solution. The bad thing (for me, anyway) is that becoming an emotionless zombie isn't easy. I try. I just care too much, I guess.

So yes, I was depressed. And it's probably obvious, that I still am. The eagle was landed. Wings temporarily clipped and unable to fly. I should have pulled on your omnipresent ear sooner. I'd probably feel 100% better now. Nevertheless, I am at... uh, 90% now. I extended my wings, flapping them rapidly to be sure everything's in working order. Yep! Good to go.

The eagle lifts his bald head triumphantly and surveys his surroundings. A piercing screech sounds from his talon-shaped beak; a warning to all that he is ready to take to the air and swoop down upon his next meal. How great it would be. Okay, so go on and brush your shoulders off.

Only those that you trust can betray you.

I am Mine Own Redeemer!!

Two days away from the ole 34! Pretty exciting.

August 26, 2005 5:55 pm

It has been almost a week since my last entry and there's still really nothing exciting worth noting. I have read two books in the space of that time. Actually, I read one and finished reading one that I had started before. As a matter of fact, I just finished it. That's what I've been doing [reading] since I arose from my lifeless (ablest temporarily) state because the power in my cell has been our and it's STILL OUT! - since 3:00 am. I really don't mind because the radio can be annoying and a hindrance. But, by the same token I prefer to have it at my disposal instead of just being completely cut off. Either way, it's not really an issue. My cell isn't the only one without power, though, and some of these clowns start banging on the doors. And act which accomplishes absolutely zero cooperation from the guard. I admit that the rowdiness is welcomed at times. It sort of "livens-up" the place. Things can tend to be rather stale around here. A little (or a lot) noise ev

Aug. 31, 2005 9:30 am

For several days now I've taken out this very writing tablet and a pen, I've sat at my small table on this very uncomfortable steel stool, and tried to write - to my avail! Is there such a thing as writer's block in regards to journal writing? I have it... had it.

It may have been the change in my sleeping schedule. For a few weeks I had been sleeping during the day and going hard during the nights. It seems that keeping a nocturnal routine was better for me. For studying legal work, it certainly is. And that's what ultimately lead to the hours I was keeping, legal work, however, I took a break from reading case law (sometimes you have to break away and let all the information marinate in your mind) and alternated my hours, so that I could go to recreation every day. I'm not positive, but when I think about it, that seems to correspond with the time my "writers block" started. Then again, it could be laziness. If truth be told I haven't had any desire to write, although I would make an attempt occasionally.

Today I am prompted to write by an essay that I read in the Summer 2005 newsletter by Prisoner Express. This essay was written by a man named Daniel "Danny" Harris. Danny and I live on the same unit, but we are no longer on the same wing. I had the opportunity to meet him in late 2003 and lived right across from him for about 9 months. I would not be writing this now were it not for Danny introducing me to Ramsay who introduced me to Gary and P.E. (Thank you Danny.)

This isn't really about Danny, though. It's about another offender that he mentioned in his essay. This man I lived across from for the same time I lived across from Danny. He goes by "Stump." He is (or was) Danny's neighbor. He and Danny were already here when I arrived. As I said, they were neighbors on the first win that I was on, and after getting to know the both of them, we had some very good conversations. Very in-depth conversations on subjects like religion, politics, prison, life, and chess. The latter of which we also played many times (I am STILL undefeated - against Danny and Stump! Haha!)

Stump was a member of the Crips. Very strong looking African American who was obviously dedicated to maintaining his heather. For a 38 yr. old (2004), he was in excellent physical condition. He was serving a 99 year (aggravated) sentence, so for a man his age that's essentially a life sentence. I'm not sure how long he had been in Ad. Seg., but I would have never guessed that Stump, of all people, would succumb to the insanity that can be brought on by the mental torment of a life lived in a box, no matter how long.

Having lived under much extreme conditions for 10 yrs., I have witnessed many - and I do mean MANY - men "fall off the edge" in seg. I have felt the weight of that torment myself, almost each and every day. I consider myself a prideful man, strong-minded, and full of light. Attributes that, in my opinion, were shared by Stump also. Yet he fell off the edge. In spite of his physical appearance, his mind apparently could not sustain much more.

It's a sad thing to happen to anyone, but when I see it happen to a person like Stump, I realize that one day that could be me. How much longer before my own mind breaks from the weight of a life in Ad. Seg. To quote Danny: "There is no way to judge how much is too much." Will I know when "too much is too much"? In my professional (after 10 yrs. in Ad. Seg., I consider myself a professional Ad-Segger) opinion, any amount of seclusion is too much. These politicians and Supermax advocates don't understand what this lifestyle does to a person. As far as they are concerned we have a mattress, running water, food, and clothing, and that's all we need to maintain. To a certain degree, that is true. A person can live under these conditions and with those provisions. That is not in dispute. What is in dispute is whether these Supermax prisons are safe, whether they don't defeat their purpose by driving sane men and women over the edge. That's what's in dispute.

That determination cannot be made by the provisions afforded to us. On the surface, these cells look very comfortable. A homeless person might even volunteer to live in one. But I would be willing to bet that it wouldn't take long before the walls start closing in. It wouldn't be long before the need to socialize became so strong that it drives you to pace up and down the cell. Five paces from the bunk to the door and back again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. It's enough to drive you crazy. And that's what people don't understand. We are sent to prison as punishment, not to be punished. Ad-Seg life is equal to the Chinese water-torture technique. The first few drops are bearable. Then it becomes annoying like a fly that won't stop pestering you. Slowly by surely the small drips don't feel like small drips anymore. The weight of the world is contained within each drop. The impact equivalent to that of a blow by a 30 lb. sledge hammer. Eventually

Like Danny, I am making a promise never to stand by as another man sinks. I vow to throw each and every one that I may encounter a lifeline. I was one of those guys who might have been able to help Stump had I still been on the same wing. My hope is that Stump finds his way back up to the surface. The ability is there; that I know. Sometimes we have to start sinking before we realize that we can swim, if only we make an effort. The shore doesn't look so far away after a few strokes. Now we can touch the ground below. Now we're stable again. I believe Stump will overcome.

Sept. 4, 2005 7:40 am

This is my first entry for this month. I haven't been doing much writing lately. Even now I sit here and my mind is as blank as the remaining sheets of paper on this tablet. Must be some glitch on a subconscious level that has me here sputtering like a car that doesn't want to start. Somewhere the eagle lays wounded - and unable to take flight.

More natural disasters. New Orleans, Mississippi, and couple of others all underwater. I wonder if the majority believe in God. And if so, then where was he in their most dire time of need? There's always some lame justification for this "All Powerful and All Knowing God" allowing senseless tragedies happen. I mean, if you believe in such a God, then it's true that he allows these things to occur. Billy Graham said as much. He said that we can't understand why God allows senseless killings and deaths but we have to trust that he has his reasons. The BTK killer was a very trusted church-going fellow. Ted Bundy was a very trusted fellow, too. It just makes no sense to me. I haven't seen any pictures of the death and destruction wrought by Hurricane Katrina but I listened to Current Affair on the radio. The journalists were flying over New Orleans in a helicopter and they painted a very dismal picture. People were literally begging (I heard that) for help. One lady was

What really makes me sick is the religious right with their demented reasoning behind this event such as "It's God's will" or "She's in a better place now." That just makes me sick! What better place can there be than with the ones you love, and who love you? It's sad. Really, really sad.

The world is a big mystery. Natural disasters are just that - natural. There's no God that can start it, stop it or help it. Everything in life is what it is. It's not a dim way to look at life. For me, it makes me want to enjoy life that much more, because I know that when my time comes, that's it. I hate that fact just like any rational person should. But I have NEVER witnessed anything that would lead me to believe that there is some God that created all. Tragedies like those equal to or worse than the tsunami and hurricane are - in my opinion - even more of a verification that there is no God. And if there is, he's a pretty sick god.

Sept. 5, 2005 (Labor Day) 11:20 am

I came in from recreation about 45 minutes ago. It was an extremely BEAUTIFUL day outside. Our recreation area is covered with an aluminum roof. There are seven (7) sections with six (6) rec. "pens" per section. The way they are set up, only (NOTE: there are six pens to a section - 3 on one side and 3 on the other, facing each other) the first two are exposed to the sun. And that's only if we're fortunate to go out during the hours before noon. The pens face towards the east, so if we go out early (which is rare), we might be able to witness a beautiful sunrise. Anytime after (but before noon, as I mentioned), the sun is beating down on the first two pens.

Today, I was in one of the first two; the sun was beating down! From that viewpoint you can see a good distance. It's a view of what I imagine the "rolling hill" that are mentioned so much in the Louis L' Amour westerns look like. It's really a beautiful scenery.

I was working out and for a while I wasn't in prison. My eyes focused on that great expanse of greenery with its infinite blue sky and I was out there. The chain link razor-wire fence didn't exist in my world for a whole hour, and let me tell you: I didn't miss it. I faced east and never looked back. I didn't want to be disturbed. I wasn't rude. I greeted the other guys in my section but if you let them, they'll talk your ear off. And if truth be told, it's usually the same old song and dance. So I respectfully excused myself and got into "the zone." When I'm feeling so good about life, I never want it to end. It's ironic that one can find such a tranquil state in the mad house that every prison is. It's not the first time for me, and I'm sure that it won't be the last (at least I hope not), but for some reason it felt special. It's amazing what a little sunshine can do.

Today is a good day. It's (as Travis Tritt sang) "a great day to be alive.

Sept. 7, 2005 1:25 pm

I read an article earlier in the USA Today. It's from an old date, Aug. 25, to be exact. The article was about this so-called Christian, Pat Robertson (the 700 CLUB). Apparently he made a comment about assassinating Venezuela's President, Hugo Chavez.

Now I'm not very familiar with Chavez, but I have listened to Pat Robertson on many occasions. This is a man who supports war and has even voiced his opinion about declaring war on other countries who don't bow down to the United States. And he considers himself "a man of God"? Maybe. But of what God, Thor?

What is even more sickening to me but serves to prove how much of a lying, hypocritical man Pat Robertson is, is how even after making these comments on national television, for all the world to hear and see, he had the nerve to claim that he was "misinterpreted." "Happens all the time," he said. So here's his quote. Robertson noted that Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez said the United States wants to assassinate him. Robertson said: "IF he thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think we really ought to go ahead and do it. It's a whole lot cheaper than starting a war."

I'm no brain surgeon, but it appears quite clear to me that when Robertson says "we really ought to go ahead and do it" he is referring to the assassination. Pat Robertson even went so far as to say the United States should "take him out." Again, the meaning is obvious. Yet, Pat Robertson blames others for their misinterpretation of his words. He said: "I didn't say 'assassinate.' I said our special forces should, quote, 'take him out.' and 'take him out' can be a number of things including kidnapping. There are a number of ways to take out a dictator from power besides killing him. I was misinterpreted... but that happens all the time."

Ah, it makes me smile. But then, what can anyone expect from a man who professes to have an ability to heal people OVER THE TELEPHONE?! Makes one wonder: if Pat Robertson has the God-given ability to heal all types of illnesses - including but not limited to, terminal cancer, then why - in GOD'S NAME - can he not find missing children? He's so in tune with God that he has some psychic ability to feel - and subsequently heal - another's illness but he can't help a family member find a missing loved one?

If there was an actual Satan in the world, then Pat Robertson - and all those just like him - is truly one: KING OF LIES. Not even Jesus claimed to heal as many people as Pat Robertson. Maybe Pat Robertson is Jesus, reincarnated? Yeah, that's it. I knew that I was on to something here. Now he, Pat / Jesus, can take a couple of loaves and fishes and feed all the starving people in Rwanda, Sudan, and Pat / Jesus will have to leave the comfort of his palatial home and make a special appearance. Maybe grow his hair and beard out. Throw on a robe and sandals, and put the loaves and fishes in a basket. You know, just like the gold ole days. Sounds like a plan.

Sept. 10, 2005 9:45 p.m.

I still haven't been doing much writing lately. And I still don't have a particular reason - that I can pinpoint - why. I could write about the hurricane, but what can I say? I listened to quite a bit of coverage on CNN, but when I actually saw some photos in a Newsweek magazine is when I really realized the devastation Hurricane Katrina caused.

I have to admit when I first heard reports on Katrina, I thought "What's the big deal? It's just one of the many [hurricanes] that have hit before." Obviously I was very wrong. I really don't have anything to add to this. Already fingers are being pointed, accusing this person or that organization for alleged negligence. Sean Penn, the actor, said it best when he said (paraphrasing here) "Let's worry about helping everyone that lost homes and family first. There will be plenty of time for pointing fingers later." And that's true. If everyone stands around blaming the other person, then nothing will get done.

When I consider what so many of those people have gone through, I look around at my small dwelling and I have to say, I'm thankful. If it was my family going through that, I don't know if I'd be able to maintain. That (something happening to a loved-one) is one of - if not the worst - worst fears. I would be completely helpless and I don't know how I'd act. And I'd rather not think about it.

Sept. 14th, 2005 Noon

Tonight, at 0 pm central time, the first women since Karla Faye Tucker in 1998 is scheduled to die by lethal injection for allegedly killing her husband and two children. Before Karla Faye's execution no woman had been executed since the 1800s - and then George W. Bush happened.

I can't speak from personal knowledge but from the reports I've been listening to, there is overwhelming doubt in the case of Frances Newton, the women scheduled to die tonight. The governor Rick Perry has already given her one stay of execution 120 days ago. Obviously that stay is scheduled to expire tonight.

One has to wonder if she's innocent. Consider this: a women that was executed in Georgia in 1945 was pardoned earlier this year. A pardon is basically a document excusing a person(s) from guilt. So this woman was legally MURDERED in 1945. Over 1/3rd of all executions in the U.S. have taken place right here in Texas. Over one-third! How many of those "executions" were really "murders"? And wouldn't you know that the vast majority of victims are minorities; blacks and Hispanics in particularly. And that majority (of minorities) were represented by appointed state counsel because they were too poor to hire an attorney of their choice. No Johnny Cochran or Martha Clark for minorities.

I don't profess that everyone is innocent. I'm sure that that's not the case. But the fact that even one was [innocent] is enough to give considerable pause. It (injustice) happens everyday, and NOT only in Texas. I can't tell you how many stories I've read about men (and some women) who've spent 10, 15, or even 20 years in prison, only to prove late through DNA evidence or the like that they were in fact innocent! If you have never endured even one day in jail, then you will NEVER understand what that can do to a person. How can you repay 20 years of someone's life? It's not possible. No amount of money can replace that.

I don't know if Frances Newton is innocent. But from what I've heard thus far, there is in fact enough doubt about her guilt to merit at least a new trial. It will be a shame if that much isn't granted to her.

5:30 pm

The Supreme Court denied Frances Newton's last writs. So she'll be the first black woman since the civil war to be executed in the state of Texas.

Sept. 17, 2005 4:18 pm

For a while writing had become an almost everyday thing. It even got to the point where I looked forward to it. Although I have been able to put my finger on it, something happened. I know this because I lost interest. The time lapses in between entries are testament to that.

I think that my days being so repetitive plays a major role. I do not exaggerate when I say that; I mean repetitive to the extreme. From the moment my eyes open to the moment they close in retirement for that day, it's always the same thing. So the times I did sit down with my cup of joe to pen a few words, I realized that anything I intended to say has already been said! And then there were times when I thought: how many times have I said there's nothing to say? Even now - as I write - I'm thinking "Same ole same ole." But here's the thing: THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT PRISON IS! Same ole, same ole.

While the world beyond prison walls advances and becomes more technical, prison life remains cemented in its primitive ways. Where the world is full of color and full of laughter, prisons are full of darkness and yelling, screaming, arguing, and cussing.

It's a bearable world, but as with all difficulties in life, it changes a person. For better or worse is hard to determine, but it certainly changes a person - forever.

The Texas prison enterprise used to be called Texas Department of Corrections. But who were they kidding? There is no "correcting' (a.k.a. rehabilitation) going on in prison. The powers - that - be realized that. The recidivision statistics don't lie, after all. So when they (powers-that-be) realized that men and women were not corrected upon release and consequently came right back to prison, what did they do? Provide more schooling and rehabilitation? NO! They changed the name!

Instead of calling it Texas Department of Corrections they call it the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. So now they don't have to worry about rehabilitating anyone. After all, no one is sent here to be "corrected." We are here as an act of "justice." Or so they say, anyway.

I'm fortunate that I have some education. I'm presently taking a paralegal correspondence course and should I regain my freedom, that is a trade that can come in very handy in the world. It's handy even in prison. But what about the thousands of others that aren't fortunate? How about the thousands who have lived for years in a cell all alone, and then are literally thrown out of prison after their time is up with nothing more than $100.00 and a bus ticket?

Ad Seg. prisoners are not afforded the opportunity to go tot school or learn a trade like the general population prisoners. We are afforded nothing but the privacy of living alone. No school (unless your family pays for it), no sunlight, no contact visits and no telephone calls. And should a loved-one pass away we are not permitted to attend the funeral. General populations prisoners can.

Some really stupid people seem to think that we "deserve" that. We "deserve" this or that. What they fail to consider is that many prisoners who are subjected to the cruelty and humiliation and suffering that such restrictions impose on a person's mental state, will one day be out in the world. Many a man and women have been rendered hateful, and resentful because of this life.

Sure, many of us are deserving of incarceration. That's not my gripe. But it doesn't stop at that. Incarceration is only the beginning of the punishment when it's supposed to be the punishment. I told a friend recently that some people do deserve to be incarcerated. I stand by that statement. But that doesn't mean they - or anyone else, for that matter - should be tortured mentally as well. That's really the hard part about prison: the mental aspect.

So anyway, it is what it is and we have to continue to maintain control, both physically and mentally. Life - in general - is still great, albeit with many ugly faces, and I try to enjoy it, in spite of my surroundings. It's hard, though. Not always. Some days are better than others, but deep within the battle rages on.

I may have said all this before, and chances are that I'll say it all again before it's all said and done. But this is my life, and this is what I have to say about it. It may always be the same and may not always be nice. On thing, though: it'll ALWAYS be true.

Sept. 25, 2005 7:30 a.m.

I was recently moved to another wing. Had the choice been mine I wouldn't have moved. I was very comfortable where I was, and comfort in prison isn't something one attains easily. I had been on the other wing for 14 months and it took most of that to reach the level of comfort that I was at.

But regardless, I know from experience that I'll adapt to my new surroundings and the new faces around me. I've said many times that nothing changes in prison but the date. I forgot to mention the faces.

Sometimes guys go home or get moved or transferred to a different unit. Sometimes they die or hurt themselves so they can be hospitalized and receive special treatment. The people change; prison doesn't.

I saw the craziest thing when they ran recreation. I use the word "crazy" because it was, but not in a mental way. I didn't know this then but I do know: there are a couple of one-legged men on this wing. Nothing odd about that. The first two cells on one-row and two-row are built and equipped for handicapped. Each cell is double in size.

So the first day I saw (or heard rather) the guards running recreation, I heard the rattling of a chain belt. A chain belt is used on guys that cannot - for whatever reason - be handcuffed behind their back. It's similar in appearance to the wide leather belts that weightlifters use for back support, only these have stainless-steel rings in the front and on either side where handcuffs can slide right though. Then the inmate is cuffed in front. There's a "leash" attached to the belt so the guard "escorting" the offender can hold and maintain control over the offender without being too close. I forgot to mention that the "leash" is approximately 2 " ft. long. Since the offender is cuffed in the front he's seen as being more of a potential threat than those cuffed with their hands in back. For that reason the guards maintain some distance between them and the offender. Hence the leash.

So I hear the rattling chains that only a chain belt can make, and another noise that I couldn't identify. Being a curious mind and, of course, wanting to survey my surroundings like any smart convict would, I went to my door to see what the source of the noise was.

Just when I thought that I'd seen it all in prison, I was quickly proved wrong. Before my very eyes (and this is a true story, by the way) was a one-legged black man HOPPING to recreation! Yes, hopping!

He's a very muscular man so it's obvious that he works out. He must be hopping to recreation by choice, because he is entitled to a wheelchair and as corrupt as prison can be, I don't know that they would deny a one-legged man a wheelchair (and/or crutches) and risk a lawsuit. Not on this unit anyway.

I'll tell you what I felt when I saw this: admiration. I couldn't help but stare and it wasn't because I've never seen a one-legged man. I've seen plenty and even had an uncle who lost a leg in Vietnam. I have an aunt who is mentally handicapped and remains institutionalized. I have a younger cousin who has down syndrome. So these things are not new to me. But I was amazed at this guys will power. To me, will power is something to be admired.

Not long ago I read about (and later heard him on talk shows) a guy who was rock climbing and his hand got trapped underneath a large boulder. No water. No cell phone, and no hope of surviving... unless... he cut off his hand. And so, using a pocketknife, he proceeded to do just that. His will to survive overcame any pain or fear that tried to hinder him in any way from cutting off his own hand with a pocketknife.

Now I'm not trying to equate the pain and fear that this guy felt with hopping on one leg everywhere you go. However, the will power that each shows is something we should all take not of. And these are but two examples. I'm positive this inner strength is displayed by many - men, women, children; young and old - and on many different levels. Not everyone has that inner strength. If they do, then I stand corrected, but if that is true, then so is this: they don't all use it. Some - many - people fold under adversity. Compared to many, prison life is a walk in the par. I don't forget that.

Until now, I haven't been doing any writing. Not much, anyway. I've made attempts. Many attempts, as a matter of fact. Seems like my well has gone dry. I still don't know if I'm over this... whatever it is... yet. This morning felt like every other morning lately: good. But for whatever reason I felt like writing. (Where's that damn eagle?)

Houston had a scare with Hurricane Rita. Galveston was initially the target, but luckily it wasn't hit directly. Huntsville (where is where I reside) is not far from there. We felt a small impact (i.e. rain and lack of power for a short while), but nothing dangerous. No mail went or fame in last week, so I don't know if my family left town or not. I'm originally from a small town called Aransas Pass, Texas. It's right on the south Texas coastline. Beautiful place to live. But hurricanes can (and have been) be a problem during this time of year. Hopefully they'll be spared again.