The journal of David Snyder
9 May 2007
After a long unintended/unwanted lapse in the journal program, I'm back. A lot of things have happened on a personal level, prison views and public opinion.
We have a much and long needed new governor. Elliot Spitzer sees things much more clearly. He's rooting out government waste, making politicians more answerable, curbing the political back scratching, restructuring docs/parole, restoring programs and more to come. He's showing the Pataki years were behind closed door deals, the public was fed disinformation and did as much as possible to fuel paranoia.
My parole has been submitted. The court appointed me an attorney. I give her very high praise. She's extremely competent, acts with no bias and really fights for you. What I praise her above all for is agreeing to be my attorney. Dealing with a sex offense case is difficult. Factor in the child and difficulty goes. And that this is a female attorney, and, well, it took courage, ethics and morals to fight for me. If not outright court reversal I'll make parole on the re-hearing!
I love the creative language correspondence course I'm taking through the college guild. So what if it's non-credit? I'm learning and free. No matter how educated you are, you can always learn more.
I've made good friends through my various correspondence courses and they remain so a long, long, long time.
One thing. Janis Joplin wrote a song "I got to get out of this place (if it's the last things I do)."
I need to.
This place, prison in general, is so damn beat you down. I'm trying like the hordes of hell to better myself through education, tutoring others, being a writer, active in groups, prepare for my future. Yet, DOCS doesn't like that. No, no. I become smart, have a life, etc, then I won't be back to keep their jobs going. Hypocrites! Their "mission" is to do all I am doing and they try to stop it at every turn?
I see prisoners give up because the more they try, the more they get blocked. I see prisoners with abilities to better themselves but gave up because DOCS beats them down and the prisoner then plays dumb.
DOCS. Department of Crushing Services. Their "mission?" Build prisons. Beat prisoners down. Bring them back. And the Vietnam maxim "Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out."
I'm sick of the assholes, leeches, "punks," "toughs," attitudes, hypocrites, extortion, assaults and all the bullshit! Yeah, that's correcting a person?
Two conclusions about myself:
- I don't belong in prison
- Either kill me or release me. Either way, just end my fucking misery!
22 May 2007
The seldom spoken rule is men don't cry. Well, I have, I do and I will. The maxim goes I saw m life flash before my eyes. Does it? Today, for me, it sure as hell did. An asthma attack.
Never, ever, in my life was it bad like today. I struggled, fought, prayed to breathe. I heard my lungs trying to draw in air but not enough. Each time was harder. Even as I write this I don't know how but I won. No inhaler. No help. In truth, I should be dead right now.
I saw my life. Yet, time seemed endless. One single thought went through my mind. I'm going to die in prison. Right here. Right now. Not by a knife, beating, bullet, etc. My own body would be my killer. After, when I had some control again, tears slipped out. A prisoner had stood by and done nothing! Why? Because I "dissed" him that morning. Did I? To his mind, yes. Truth? No. I always sat in that seat at meals with my two friends. Because I don't eat breakfast he decided it was his knowing when I eat because I'm not working I sit there. But when I sat his "former" table in the post I had to move. Fine, be the hypocrite. Up until now I never thought bad of him. Now? An action he did tonight changed that. He proved to me, by his own hand, he deserves to be in prison. He's violent. He doesn't really respect life and is more of a taker than fiver. Now I'll never be able to dismiss bad things I hear about him with a wave of my hand.
I laugh at myself. Tonight I wasn't scared. I was simply pissed at how cowardly he did it. Hell, I just went on enjoying the movie and writing my novel, laughing, talking. My eye was being threatened to be ripped out and the only thing I was pissed how cowardly he was! Fucking Christ! My asthma attack changed me. I'm not afraid! Yeah, death is still fearful but not much anymore. Hell, let it come. Bring it head on, look me in the eye. Don't be a coward in the dark of my back. Have the guts to look me in the eye when you cut it out. Somehow that's not as scary as it used to be.
Either I die in prison or I don't. No middle ground. If I die in here then sooner or later the knife or whatever will come. Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. Hopefully, the latter. But no matter what I found a sort of peace at lunch. It's just one hell of a way to have found it. I had to almost die to find the peace that comes after it. Now that makes you go "huh."
7 June 2007
Sixteen days.
Two weeks.
My great nephew died of lung cancer. My aunt died in the hospital while in a coma. In eight years I lost a grandmother, a friend in a car crash, a family friend as dear as an aunt, two friends on my block.
Five!
Eight years!
Almost one a year!
Well, dearest sister? You lied, acting the hypocrite, used your own daughter for hate and revenge, demeaned our dead father when he can't defend himself, tore our family more apart and I didn't think it possible. You took away my hopes and dreams, made my student loan debt beyond a point I can ever pay, and made me look like a perverted monster when you know it's a lie!
For eight years I gave forgiveness because you acted to protect your daughter. Only your hypocrisy and how you acted, and for most of it you have earned an academy award, I could not forgive. The damned fool I am even though some things could be mended. Aunt Theresa's death was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I fucking fought our family in your defense when they spoke ill of you! Eight years later I finally see th real you and the family was right.
I've lost everything. My family and friends are dying! On May 22 I had an asthma attack like never before. So fucking bad all ceased to exist but a bright light. It was the peace, comfort and safety I've sought for 30 years. There was no pain, hurt or worry. Then? I was back.
How I don't know. I don't know why.
I died, dear, "loving," sister!
And you know what? Medical still won't give me an inhaler! Oh, come for a "breathing treatment." How can I when I can't call for help let alone breath!
I'm fighting a corrupt system who broke the laws and violated my rights, lied and hides all the evidence of it and my innocence. They know it sees light that their ass is in a sling. I'm doing this fight pro se, on my own, unable to afford any lawyer.
All because of you!
Whatever higher power exists forgive my hate and my next words.
I hate you.
I can no longer forgive you.
You are a bitch, never stopping attacking your own kin and using your own children. You are the abuser!
I hope the hell you fate and karma balance the scales. Oh, not by my hand. By a higher power. And if the maxim is true what you've done will be returned by three.
My true sister, the one I still knew when I was not even six yet, died all those years ago. I simply refused to believe it until now. You are dead to me.
I never want to see or speak to you again. Stay out of my life!