I received the denial of my application for a tutor job. At orientation the guy who spoke about the education department had said I would be the only applicant. I was exceedingly qualified by my education but can only suppose the "major violation" is somehow prohibitive of my acceptance. No qualification "TABE" testing or anything. Just denied.

I don't have much to offer but my thoughts. There is not much I go through on a daily basis that deserves much comment. I don't think. I have gotten a few messages this week and always enjoy the acknowledgement. It helps counteract the feeling of being buried alive with desperate little devils that never shut the fuck up. Always yelling between their cells. A couple of things I read about in the messages I would like to offer my opinion about:

People commented about how I looked and my appearance at trial. Noticeably way different than when I was arrested.

​​The extremely harmful neglect and abuse while I spent three years in jail was way beyond most people's imagination. I went from about 215 pounds down to about 167. No real medical care. They regularly made up bogus reasons to throw me in the hole just to trash my things and on multiple occasions took my legal material, I presume to look for information about the case.

I know my family now possesses one of the psychiatric questioning they go through with inmates. Mine was completed as honest as I could be, which was no threat to my own or anyone else's well-being. I remember hearing the guard call the supervisor while I sat in the tiny security conference room: he said "Yes, I guess he could be lying." The next week when the doctor reviewed the form there was no explanation about why I was in the hole. Even when they could find no petty excuse.

Before body cameras there were two guards that bragged about how it was their job, specifically that I was sent back to the downtown facility for them to "break" me. Not only do people not understand what I went through, they don't know what that often times the 50,000 volt taser pack that was (about the size of my calf) attached to my calf was biting into my muscle uncomfortably and I could not really adjust it. If it appeared I was tampering with it then the Sheriff deputy with the remote might be inclined to activate, as the acknowledgement form I signed before each day of trial, involuntary urination and defecation.

They didn't let me get a haircut for eleven and a half months at least, before I stopped asking. The sun-kissed hut that disappeared from my flesh was because I was not allowed time in the sun. Not because I turn into a bat and fly out to entrance and exsanguinate unsuspecting single women with unlocked double French doors to their bedroom balconies (That's a vampire joke. If you think vampires are serious business and should not be joked about, well, too bad. Sucks for you! Hah!)

What I am getting at is that the conditions I was subjected to weren't just the lowly standard that meth and heroin junkies, but also of someone the authorities believed knew anything about some local guys disappearance. I would sort of liken it to a three year interrogation of harassment and hostility that, if not directly performed by the guards themselves, were orchestrated by housing me with the worst offenders and the worst housing units at all times I wasn't otherwise thrown into the hole. Even for a time in administrative segregation they kept me in the cell immediate to any inmate who was off his medication and yelling and pounding all the time. Real and severe mental illness. So, I am sure I don't look too good by the time I made it to my second trial. People commenting that I look guilty or like a criminal or anything of the sort are the prejudice the prosecution is taking advantage of with delaying the trial in the first place. Does anyone think I look like a criminal in the pictures of me at the time I was arrested? Healthy and confused. And if you think I look like I might spark a spliff then I suppose most people look like criminals by that standard.

​Another thing people have commented on is that whomever has taken an interest in my case is doing so with romantic ulterior motives. Only one woman has made a pass at me while communicating with me. Almost all other people either knew me previously to my arrest, could articulate why they thought the trial was bogus, or had a traumatic event they experienced themselves which allowed them to sympathize with the hurt in my eyes while at trial. I know a lot of the group are female but a lot of the attorneys that review the trial are male. So are a lot of supporters that don't maintain a very public face. Accusing the women who are helping to right this wrong, especially the married women, of romantic interests is just another version of sick prejudice I don't appreciate.

I think most people have organized here because we want to revise the wrongful conviction and if we work together we can achieve that goal. After what I have, and continue to, go through, when I come home, I will be looking to help anyone else I believe to be wrongfully convicted. I sort of feel like I will have to just to try to heal the emotional trauma that never actually mends. I guess I am not certain but I will see what the therapist I eventually work with will advise.

​The last thing I want to comment about is that the quality of commissary items is really substandard. Some things people sent I had to return because it was more than the allowable limit. Other things just fall apart and are just junk. There is no consumer protection for inmates. Please, let me ask for what I need. I need a lot, and on an ongoing basis. There is plenty of opportunity to help. I might even give in and request a TV so I can talk about football. There are a few items I will request through my family since I do not wish to be wasteful. Thank you for reading this journal. Thank you for all the help. 

This journal thing is probably going to get boring. I might have to go ask those guys eager to talk about jumping me to actually do so, just so I have something exciting to go on about. I am really eager for everyone to learn more about all the stuff we cannot talk about pending my appeal. Because the lawyers have no transferred the property from my name yet I am being denied appointment of a public defender. I cannot even request the transcripts of my trial. All this time is effectively "dead" time because of that. I have nothing I can do to move things forward. My kids don't stop growing, though. I wish I could do some internet polls of people that watched the trial. I am really sad the jurors bought into all the lies. I wonder if any of them have followed up with the awareness campaign that the group has done such a good job organizing. At some point they have to learn what the prosecution did. If you go through the paralegal certification correspondence course it talks about how there had actually been two court systems at one point (in England?) and because one was so slow and did not satisfy the demands of the people that the other was adopted. It appears to me that any court system tends to develop dilatory attributes because any institutions advantage over people government needs to do is implement calendar exhausting distractions to maintain authority. Maybe authority isn't the right word. "Dila-tyranny?" Tyranny by delay. I don't know about Boston's harbor and a boat load of tea very well but I sure feel like heaving a few thousands pounds of the devil's lettuce onto the steps of the Wisconsin State capitol. 

I think its the ninth, anyway. So tired all the time I basically just pass out at various times for a few minutes to a few hours. People randomly yelling in the middle of the night startles me even with ear plugs in. The guards come by every hour and blast the cell with an LED flashlight which also interrupts my sleep if I can find it. It is actually easier to pass out after breakfast because it is the time of day least disturbed by guards and inmates. I don't get any sort of sunshine that would inspire me to get up and work on anything.

​My whole experience with jail and prison continue to paint recidivism in an obvious light. Minimal reformative value where the system is administered for harassments no different than the problematic dispositions of the inmates. To be fair, I am in "the worst" housing unit. After my phone call this morning I am met by a guard who searched my cell while I was using the phone. He insists I take a small trash container which will just further constrict the lack of adequate space. I have at least managed to keep things mostly dry with the shower nozzle about 6 feet from the corner of my bunk. The guard informs me that he did me a favor by not throwing all my letters away. He says I am only allowed to keep 25 letters. He says the next time he searches my cell will result in discipline if he finds all my letters again. Pictures of my kids, my family, group members, and other emotionally valuable keepsakes. I have to prioritize somehow. I need to remove personal information from the letters too. I am not happy about this at all. I have so little, and when I vacate my cell for thirty minutes (not even), they run in here and target the most important thing to me. I don't have a TV, a radio, personal clothes, or anything that would significantly delay their search. Arbitrary and capricious is the phrase that comes to mind. What rehabilitative benefit is there in taking away inmates connections to the outside world? The people that do not maintain strong relationships are probably not going to be trying to stay involved with many people when they go free. I can understand there being a limit, but 25? Socially cripple the inmates or... they might not come back. 

I have looked for something positive to make of my time. Even while in jail, I made a huge vocabulary list I wanted to share with my kids. Just a lot of words I came across while reading books. Boscobel has a vocational program for barbershop/cosmetology and it is one of the reasons I preferenced for here. I got a response to my require to join the program. No major violations in the last year is one of the requirements. So, that lying ass librarian has blocked me from even being eligible for the vocational program. That sickens me.

I still have no received any reply from my appeal to the decision. I even wrote the warden at Dodge after I came. to Boscobel. That didn't elicit a response either. I asked the Security Director, Taylor, and he couldn't offer any help. I asked the social worker, Peters, and she said she can only see the violation but no appeal in their system. I can't even fulfill the requirement to exhaust all administrative remedies if they just refuse to process the appeal form. They are supposed to have sixty days to deal with it but I cannot even get an acknowledgement it was received since I had submitted it Sunday night and left Dodge the next morning. All the benefits in the system are for people of authority to lie and get away with it. She dismissed me from the law library and walked over to my housing unit to talk to me away from everyone else! I didn't orchestrate any private encounter with that woman but then she goes on to claim I hit on her! What the French, toast?! And then they refused the video as evidence for the hearing but the "advocate" saw it and told me it showed her going to the law library and everyone then getting up to leave.

Have there been any polls to see if Michael Graveley is an honest person? Car rides and stories changed which then contradict material evidence? What happens when prison staff hide evidence, or withhold it, as it demonstrates the questionable dealings of their employees, and which contradict the staff's testimony at the disciplinary hearing? The damages? Life savings, years of my life, miserable conditions of confinement and senseless deprivity.

I am really looking forward to talking to other people who were wrongly accused and convicted and hearing about their stories. I am going to need an emotional support group and an excellent therapist by the time I am done with this.

​I also put my name in the hat to do some tutoring if guys need help. I would rather it be helping my own kids with their school work, but maybe I will be better at helping my own kids with a little practice in here. I did help my daughter as much as her mother would allow but my boys were a bit young for homework when I got arrested. A lot of these guys don't have any high school diploma. Some cannot even read. I think a lot of education is centered around a willingness to learn and an enthusiasm to teach yourself. Reading just takes practice. Aside from that, the best way to learn to read is to read out loud. I expect my help, if requested, will be more an interest in solving for x or simple algebra. Perhaps my "major violation" will prevent that from happening too. 

Someone had sent me a book. It was denied because it did not include an itemized packing slip or a receipt. I guess everyone is supposed to be aware of DOC rule 309.04.01 (v)(k)(a)(b)? Did I miss that class in high school? It's almost comically absurd, as though Douglas Adams inspired the policy after writing about the Vogon Constructor Fleet having posted notice of their intent to destroy the Earth to build a bypass in his book (and movie) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. No one even knew they were supposed to look to have any possibility of knowing about the requirements. Another impending refund. Much love and huge thanks to everyone for trying. You get to be proximal victims to this program of every imaginable wrongs.

One of the really weird things is that prison is an actual punishment to me. There are a group of guys that thrive in this deprivity though. No job. No obligation. Meals. Space to sleep, shower, and a toilet. They seem to value peer approval over their own accomplishments. It's just a big social club where they talk about the same things, yelling out of their cells to each other until 2:30 to 4:00 in the morning. Already struggling for meaningful sleep, it bothers me greatly but these guys will recycle a story about a highly aggressive blow job they claim to have received for hours of any particular evening, and then tell the story again the next week. The tiny world mentality where their freedom only consisted of one or a few neighborhoods and a handful of experiences they well exaggerate in telling their prison pals. Bizarre. 

Yes, I would prefer to just sleep if I could. Often it is my back that troubles me. Occasionally my elbow, when I do pull ups. Then it really hurts bad. Hard enough to fall asleep at a football party while laying in front of the TV with ten other people yelling about absurdities. Yes, I am skeptical about their ability to throw a football better than Brady or shoot a basketball better than Curry. Some of these guys can rap and sing though. A ton of them think they are good at that and absolutely are not. There is a rare few that definitely do not apply their skills for their own gain. Usually though, that is also just obnoxious sleep disruption as well. 

I go see Nurse Lee for my annual screening. I tell her about my back, elbow, hell, and perpetual headache. She is following some form on a computer screen and doesn't note anything. She just advises me that I will be called to HSU to get a tetanus shot at some point. I haven't noticed any rust nails laying around. The government has damaged my trust of authority figures. It is probably sterilization to inhibit convicts from being able to reproduce once they go free. Just kidding. But maybe...? 

My property arrived today! Because only certain things are allowed with advanced permission some things I am forced to send back to the vendor. All items are also restricted as allowable limitation. Stuff I will use like paper, pens, and envelopes, I am also forced to "destroy" or "return." Destroy? Yep. It costs $3.95 to return anything from an order. I ended up returning things people sent me from eight orders. Their kindness turned into an expense imposed upon me by the institution. The process of sending me things will require some coordination. They don't let me have the prescription mouthwash in my cell on some paranoid security restriction as well. I accept they worry about safety but the policy is so somehow wrong. It was paper and envelopes and not enough to threaten the security of the institution. I cannot even imagine how many envelopes that would require.

My back is having an especially bad day today. Since I was arrested, all medical staff has done is dismiss, minimize, ignore, or refuse me any help that wasn't well exhausted years before I was arrested. The snapping and popping sounds aren't "subjective" symptoms. Something definitely moves different then before I hurt it. Sometimes the sounds offer a little relief, like to rub a charlie horse muscle spasm. The most painful is when my back goes into spasm and I try to stretch it out. The "traction" stretch, elongating my spine is the worst then. Very sharp and extremely alarming. My body fights the movement involuntarily. The creepiest sound it makes is what you might imagine biting into a slug might sound like. Like a tiny little squish. I don't know what moves or changes in my back to create that noise but it makes me feel like I still have a fresh wound.  

My elbow hurts all the time too. Mostly just a dull ache that is sore but I don't lean on my elbows too long if I do. It makes a cool snapping sound after a few push ups or after pull ups that go into full extension. Scar tissue? Inflammation? All the above I imagine, but the pain is super frustrating.

My right heel tingles. Something with the tendon. I can feel it when I "step up." Also, it is worse in the morning before stretches. So, I don't suspect nerve damage like the medical staff in jail and prison. Perhaps I was a dog that got run over by a car in my previous life? Nope. Just damaged in this one. I really miss having my girl pound on my back. She didn't mind nursing my damages and I really couldn't help loving her for it. That, and other things. Maybe she enjoyed pounding on my back because she really hated me. No, no way. 

When I went to see the optometrist, Dr. South, I had commented about being "eye-tarded," my eyes are so bad. She did not appreciate the comment. It's a good thing she didn't decide to be a fireman. Fire retardant materials would probably drive her insane. When I was young we had a rule that was shared in a little song where sticks and stones would break my bones but names would never hurt me. The fanaticism that goes into getting upset about someone else's deprecating statement because it could be applied to a larger group of people and because it is imposed with your own personal stigma, or even cultural stigma seems somehow... hmm, what's the word... ? Oh yah. "IDIOTIC" in its own way. The doctor for eyes is also the doctor of public correctness... and anger. Publicly correct or suffer her wrath. Really, she just made a face and accompanying noise to indicate she didn't approve. People trying to be hurt by words that are not publicly "correct?" I don't even like that phrase. It's more like political hypochondriac.

​A big part of sitting at trial was that no matter what I did or did not do, someone always thought it was an indication of something bad. People see whatever I do (or hear whatever I say) in the worst possible way now. Now I want to read The Scarlet Letter again. Who knew those books from grade school and high school were all about the ugly of some people's human nature. Yes, trivial and petty. I didn't get shanked yet though. Sorry for the boring commentary about something that should be nothing.