Where do they get the carrots they bag up for inmates? These things taste almost like a carrot very rarely and at least two out of every baby-carrot bag tastes like they were grown in old sneakers. I am not a huge fan of carrots in the first place but I know they aren't supposed to taste like this. And they definitely should not be paired with corn chips. The sandwich is bad enough, but I don't need the lot of it on the express trip out. Whoever designs this meal plan clearly only worries about putting whatever in the top hole that satisfies some balance sheet. There is more to diet than that. The timing of it all, how your body processes it, etc... We should at least be provided a meal where we won't have to worry about trusting a fart the next day. The government is bad enough but my little brother also gets to play Big Brother as well. Censorship is a vessel navigated by Captain Solomon Benjamin Franklin Anderson. 

Legal mail from the public defender's office. I had written to plead my situation. My frozen bank account and attorneys in the process of removing my property from my possession was enough for them to change their original denial. Their letter says I will be appointed an attorney. Not sure how long that will take, but theoretically that is a good thing. 

I also received a letter from G. Boughton - Warden, stating my complaint was improperly rejected and was returned for further investigation. What? The system actually responsive? Am I dreaming? Wrongfully accused both in and outside of prison. Wrongfully convicted on both. Buried in the formalities and obstacles. I am extremely skeptical of the system (you may have been left with that impression already) now that I see how it works, or doesn't. Where does the truth begin to matter? When a maybe child predator prosecution is involved it will be after irreversible harm is done. When it involves a librarian eager to be the center of anyone's attention it will be after she promulgates her lies to the entire institution. Do I get to expect an honest account of things now?

Today my back hurt so ridiculously bad, yesterday I had upped the weight on the pull-down station on the cable-column exercise equipment. I then went outside and tried to shoot a basketball a bit. Physical therapy exercises weren't triggering anything... excruciating, so I got foolish. I try to hold my breath while I am walking. I embarrass myself using the phone. Tiny breaths. Hold. Shoes and laundry packed under my mat looking for any way to ease the pain. Or all-fours seems to be my best bet but I don't want any guards or inmates glancing in my cell and wondering why I am ass-up in here. I have been tracking my physical therapy exercises and days I am too miserable to try again get a frowny face. Today is a frowny face day for sure. 

The all night shadowboxing ruins the few hours I might find for unconsciousness I wish I could be restful slumber. This morning they force us to exchange our issued clothes for clothes that have our name and DOC number ironed on. Many of the clothes don't fit well. Guys try to hang onto clothes that are the least worse. The grumpy late nighters protest a bit. A few people try to refuse but concede under the threat of being sent to the "hole," A block. 

​The guards threaten to take away today's recreation if one inmate doesn't comply. Other inmates dispute that possibility; group punishment. Another inmate replies that they just claim that they don't have enough staff. The security of the institution, not enough staff, and Covid are the top excuses to mistreat inmates. If I keep reading about how they lie to do whatever they like (the guards) then you'll probably see those excuses regularly. The inmates however, get upset about being required to change their clothes and two of the group that tried to get on some racist issue with me go on and on about the white guards and supervisor.

It's been a long time since I heard anyone use the term "Peckerwood" with any hostility. A term that simultaneously implies that white men's erections get hard and the people using the term do not. Not that I care to know. I don't. It just seems like the use of the term is not condescending as his hostility seems to suggest. Most days are fairly well saturated with the same few guys spewing racist comments about whites. They like to say "soft-ass white boy" a lot. Also, a lot of their sentences or comments end with the word "ass." "Bitch-ass," "hoe-ass," "broke ass." Now that the guards are done destroying their illusion of control , the radio starts thumping and the aggressive rapping floods the range. When an animal sprays, tags, or marks their territory I was under the impression it was to advertise to potential mates that they are the dominant presence. There is a fire hydrant just outside the fence of the rec yard. They could walk inmates out there on a leash once per day, and then the guards could use it afterward so we don't forget who is in charge. Yes, it feels that ridiculous to me.

Guess who was rocking out new Nikes at rec today? I feel all "Look, Ma! I'm so fast now!" That wasn't the only thing that was delivered yesterday. A folder, two bowls, and earbuds as well.

I am going to pretend my kids and I spent part of the day tossing a frisbee. When I would have the kids over, I would have a little schedule posted for meals, snacks, and naps. The rhythm of a healthy life. They just got new shoes too. That's just me trying to share in something with them. I can't help it. My heart radiates happiness like the sun does shine when I look at their pictures. Love.

I have been thinking about hanging from the light fixture. I just don't think my toes could really hold on. My back would probably love it if I could just hang upside down for a bit. Oh, you thought suicide? No, silly. Not a chance.

About 11:15 AM, Ms. Ray visits another inmate about his discovery digital media being available. She handles legal stuff and programs here. I'm not exactly sure of her title. I catch her and explain that I am still awaiting a large amount of discovery and I'm forced Pro Se (to represent myself) at the moment. When I tell her it that is so much that my attorneys still have not gathered at all, she says everyone thinks their case of special. I told her that I'm not trying to be special. I tell her that a detective testified the investigate was the largest he was ever involved in, or ever heard of. Something to that effect. She insisted that access to review legal material is limited to two sessions per week up to 1.5 hours. I said my entire firm of attorneys months took to review my discovery. If I get three hours  (it is usually only one or more hours if they allow it), then it would take a lifetime for me to go through it. Ms. said Ray she can authorize additional time if there is a court deadline that to needs be met. I said I don't even know how to go about asking and I have no idea what time frames are imposed. I just know my request for a public defender was denied. Oh, she had also said that they only have one laptop for 400 inmates? That paints a clear picture on their expectation or interest in letting an inmate dispute anything that was wrong with the way he was treated.
But the old man is happiest when he to gets forget. The prison will help ensure that. Don't forget me, everybody. I can't wait to show you what the old man and his accomplices did. I guess it is more like; law enforcement, the judicial system, and the penal system are all old men that like to pretend they cannot remember and only make an account of things that suit their interest so they can get away with perpetrating the worst wrong and harm that they can orchestrate. Not just wrongfully convicted innocent people. Jail guards that get away with molesting and sexually assaulting inmates to demonstrate dominance? Putting inmates known to be violent with other inmates who they were recently in physical altercations with to try to cause another fight where an injury occurs that requires medical attention which forces the institution to press charges? Yes. We didn't press charges. Like Pokémon being tossed an into arena. And then the guards would watch the surveillance video for entertainment and joke and laugh. Jail sucked in a lot of ways. Guys would end up with their cases they got arrested for dropped but have criminal charges for what happened while in jail which was arranged by the staff. Three for years substantial battery to an inmate? Why weren't they kept separate after the first two fights? The case they were arrested for was weak or they couldn't get a jail house (mis)informant to testify against them.

Oh, damn! I forgot to write and request all my email/journal entries from my time in Kenosha. That disgusting reality.

My inmate complaint appeal was not accepted. I use the form labeled Inmate Complaint Appeal. What a dummy am I? I was supposed to use DOC-2182, Request for Review of Rejected Complaint. Almost the exact same forms aside from the title. So much so that exceeding the first page of either in the successive page for both is the DOC–400B. Would make more sense to have a generic form that they categorize but that would betray the myriad of technicalities in place to trick, trap, and exhaust inmates before they can exhaust administrative remedies. Are they really remedies if they offer no consideration? They aren't. A bunch of distractions and obstacles.

I got a letter from my attorneys saying Ozaukee County dropped the case against me. Originally, I would've bailed out if that case wouldn't then have blocked my release. My attorneys still have not produced the discovery material. That is worrisome and frustrating. I guess it is a lot.

​I read in a book that Alzheimer's is the only disease that people suffer when it is properly treated. It's easier to forget. Does that make it better to let people “suffer” in the affliction? The judicial system is an old man with Alzheimer's. He has to write everything down and any mistakes he makes he welcomes any opportunity to forget. People in the judicial and penal system are the family that want the old man to be happy. People who demand honest accountability or family who believe it is most important to be true. Or maybe they demand truth and believe it's most important to be accountable.

About 3:00pm, I went to Health Services Unit and got a shot for tetanus and dyptheria. Nurse Anderson. This evening I got to make a call from a. rec room down in the long hallway of cells they call range four. Quiet. Wow. No hooting, hollering, banging, whistling, or anything. So, there is room for people where peaceful sleep is the norm. Everyone starts over here. I would like to make my way home. But while I am here, range four would be an improvement. 

I rewrite my appeal for good cause and send out for copies. The layers of complications that work against inmates is obvious when my previous complaint of four handwritten pages was not returned. I had made copies of that as well in case they tried to pull some bogus move, like they did. Well, I will be able to show what I reported. Like trying to explain to a child with eyes closed, fingers in ears, yelling "la la la" as loud as he can. Exhaust administrative remedies? More like; be exhausted by administrative tragedy.

I suppose I am usually compelled to write when something frustrates me or saddens me to tears. Reading what I write is perhaps more like sitting through therapy with me than anything else. For that, I apologize. I am not really sure what goal I am writing toward. It is all very aimless as I just offer snapshots of moments that whomever reading along is willing to share with me. I suppose that is what this all comes down to; the people who are brave enough to share the experience. I have taken a few questions of peoples letters and offered some details in my journals to hopefully offer resolution to other people reading this who may share the same curiosity.

Tonight I dreamt about showing my Granny, my mom's mom who is now passed away, my Camaro. I took it to a mechanic. The mechanic was doing some maintenance on my work van. Everything was so dirty I didn't want to lay down on the floor to look at the underside of the van without putting something down. I wanted to apply a grease to the calipers and brakes expecting the vehicle to sit unused for a while. The mechanic threw me a tube like that of caulk. I broke it open and the gooey, stringy mess reminded me of the five women. Two of the women are sisters. One of them is a half-sister to those two. All five are afflicted by growths on their faces. They are or were very beautiful before or aside from their affliction. They have been in my dreams before and are always happy to see me, and I them. I want for them to have surgery so they can feel beautiful again. They like that I can see through their condition. One is worse than the others. Her condition is almost as if she was hit with acid. She needs to tip her head back to make it easier to breath. Her scarring makes me wonder if she didn't make things worse by tearing at the growths instead of seeking help. She too is glad I can see how beautiful she once was. Shocked awake by hauling. The paper thin growths and stringy tissue still floating in my minds eye. They had such lovely dresses on. Light and floaty. What rotten and inconsiderate neighbors I have. The fan covers up a bit of the chatter to help me sleep but yelling and pounding supersede. It isn't as upsetting as losing a dream of my kids but it is nice to visit with old friends, even if they have ever have only existed in my dreams. I do lucid dream, sometimes. Very rare with how little sleep I get while in here. Some of my earliest experiences with that were of jumping higher and higher until I could essentially fly. That was when I was a kid. I have had the ability ever since. The ability to control many of my dreams, not the ability to fly.

Today, a guard did say he believed the property guy has been on vacation for two weeks and is expected to return this week. No, someone doesn't cover for him. What our loved ones buy for us just waits. I, reflexively, panic and stop sending letters when things inexplicably stop. My stack of envelopes looks alarmingly small when I am unclear about the next opportunity to acquire more. Football was on TV today. True to their risk seeking behavior, gambling bets echo through the hall. You can tell the guys who owe because they cheer louder and pound harder at whatever their team is or isn't doing. The unfounded and speculative arguments of guys professing to know more about whatever team is part and parcel with their desire to wager with each other. Yes, with the sports season also comes arguing over senseless trivialities to invade my attempts to zen. I don't participate in the arguments. I don't gamble. Well, rarely. Not in jail or prison.

I do wonder if I shouldn't have asked for a TV now though. So expensive. Like the radio that is loud enough to be heard over the other noise is also too expensive. The guys makeshift a connection to tether their tablets to listen to music. I would do the same so I could exercise while listening to music. I find it motivational. Feeling middle-aged sexy doesn't have much use in here but these physical therapy exercises could sure stand any help I can offer them. But attorneys are more expensive and more important than TVs and radios. Still waiting to hear if attorneys have settled transactions to pair with the funds the group has raised to satisfy a retainer. Months.

​Do journal entries seem incomplete without sarcastic comments, or comments about prosecutors with tiny hands who maybe prey on children? It would be nice to read through more of the online chatter. When a dozen people ask what my favorite color is, I have to imagine someone was like, "Mexicans." Has anyone guessed the ingredients to my cookie recipe yet? Do not answer that with "Mexicans." Cannibalism was a more popular jail rumor but popular does not make true. It makes wrongful convictions of innocent people. Done with complaining for today. I need to read more of the books that were sent to me. I am enjoying them very much. 

Spinning the block or "spinning" is to drive around the block waiting for oppositional gang members to shoot to come outside. Basically, not really going anywhere. The inmates are complaining because an intern for psych services came through to address inmate concerns and when they asked for counseling services they were told they needed to address that with their assigned provider, but no one, including the intern, tells them who that is. She even recommends they ask the social worker. One inmate claims to have already done that and was referred back to psych services. The inmates say that they are "spinning" us. Sending us around the block to distract and delay.

How to NOT provide service? Tell people they need to see someone else or that they are on a list. I submit to the worlds collective knowledge, that term spinstitution. Like that customer service department that takes forever to answer and then asks a ton of irrelevant questions. Or the online help that is a logic flow of irrelevant questions to your issues? Spinning your wheels. No actual progress. Like in the movie Fight Club where he explains that insurance rejects the first claim because a percentage of people won't submit another claim. Like a prison hearing where the hearing officer upholds the absurd claim by the staff member and the appeal to the warden or superintendent gets no meaningful consideration and forces the complaint to go through the protracted efforts thereafter. It's all just a big distraction and delay. To exhaust your efforts on not making progress.

A huge portion of my appeal will be the prosecution  requesting extensions of time from the circuit court. A big game of delaying the truth to cover up their wrongdoing. We know it. We saw it. It's wrong. What happens after a bogus trial is that the wrongs are then compounded exponentially, for years. Legal access here is on hour, twice a week. You have to sign up to review the case "discovery" material separately. That can happen for one hour per week. I don't get to look at discovery and look for applicable cases. Even if I chose a single book to read about how to write a motion or legal writing, at an hour per session, could take months to go through. There isn't even a realistic possibility to learn what to do without outside help. Why are typewriters and typewriter supplies available on commissary catalogues? Yah. Because however they can minimize the availability of adequate resources is the strategy. A game of keep away. Pickle? Monkey in the middle? All of these things insulate the detectives, prosecutors, and judges from wrongdoing. It insulates the prisons, staff members, and jails as well. The integrity of the system is only measured by its ability to be honestly held accountable. Otherwise it is just as dishonest as the criminals it contains. Whether it is something completely withheld, or allowed in such minimal standard as to effectuate a deprivation, it is all essentially the same thing. There is no responsibility to prevent the harm of a wrongful arrest, detainment, or conviction. There should be. Some sort of immediate accommodation? Instead? Hold music. Spinning.

​Does anyone remember the Tim Burton movie Beetlejuice, with Michael Keeton (sp?) Beetlejuice is sitting next to the headshrinker in the waiting room for hell? In certain translations of the Bible, Thou shall not lie is actually Thou shall not bear false witness. A lie is defined as the intent to deceive. If a prosecutor presents a witness whose testimony is not and could not be true, is he then too guilty of bearing false witness just like the person who provided the fictitious testimony? We have laws for Thou shall not steal. Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's goods. We have no requirement for police, prosecutors, or judges to be honest. Their only obligation is accord to their own moral fiber which is equivocal to the standards of whatever criminal, or even non-criminal, willing to lie under oath. When the prosecution knows their testimony could not be true, then why should they not be responsible for their actions. Especially where qualified immunity is to protect from honest mistakes and not intentional deception and the integrity of court proceedings is supposed to rely on the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, then a lying prosecution betrays the interest of the court and is no longer acting in its interests but operating in their own personal interests over the court. A traitor to the court? A traitor to public interest as well. Law enforcement, prosecutors, and judges alike should all be required to at least be honest. 

Just after 3:00pm, I talk to my daughter on the phone. She tells me about how she thought her mother was attempting to feed one of my boys the leftover food from her boyfriend's plate so my daughter took my son to go get his own plate of food. My daughter goes on to explain that she is going to interview with Law & Crime tomorrow. She says it is her own decision but has no idea how it may affect her future. I desperately advise against it. It sickened me that I was accused of manipulating my daughter when it is so obvious that she has been manipulated to say and testify to things that couldn't possibly be true. Now her mom has her going to interview for a global audience to what repercussions she could not possibly fathom. The selfish idiocy that jeopardizes their own well-being and chances at establishing stability, and dare I say, normalcy, after what has already happened. I am so sick about it. I am so upset I want to vomit. Both calls used to speak with her could not possibly be enough. I cannot protect my children from their own mother's interests as it is her that manipulates our daughter. Feeding her to that child predator prosecution wasn't enough. And now it is going to get worse.

Walking back to my cell I catch a guard sneaking out of my room with my garbage. What? Garbage isn't contraband. I think they are studying me. I haven't seen them take the trash from any other cells they shook down. The last time they searched my cell they forced me to have a garbage can when I didn't want one. I have been set up! The trash can trap. The invasion of privacy includes anything I wrote and elected to throw away. 

My physical therapy routine starts today with Theraband Y, T, I, and Low I pulls. I also do a scapular wall slide and an odd Spiderman rotation. My injury knifes me for the I pull and the scapular wall slide. It really gets at me depending on how I turn my head while doing these motions. I guess that sort of makes sense based on how I hurt it. I was walking into work after lunch and the rug in front of the door had split its layers. My stride kicked the rug up, as I presume my toe caught it, and as my next step scissored passed the other leg there was a rug flipped up between my legs to trip me. I gave it a little hopping motion but lost my balance going forward. I went to land on all fours but collided with a glass block privacy wall, folding my ring and "pinkie" or little fingers back and smacking my head on the wall. Speared it good and had a big ol lump on my head. I had a "Charlie horse"/muscle spasm in my back for eleven and a half months. I spent a lot of that time layed out in bed. Or, on really bad days, in the tub. Too painful to get to a toilet, it was better to use a towel or two to suffer immobility in some type of basin with a drain than in a bed of absorbent material. I went through over-the-counter options, physical therapy, suction cups, acupressure, acupuncture, chiropractic treatment, the entire sample drawer of a few doctors, a "tens machine"... all sorts of stuff. Eventually I made it to a pain specialist who injected medication directly into the muscles. "Trigger point" injections. The muscles quivered and relaxed after almost a year. I cried. The doctor was in a moment of elated shock. He was saying "I saw it! I saw it!" Eleven and a half months of debilitating muscle cramp. Now, my back panics when I turn the wrong way or lift things. It cramps up and feels like someone is leaning on my back with their elbow. Its an annoyance that grows to a tremendous frustration/irritation. Especially because it is enough to interrupt my sleep. I used to sleep on a heating pad that stayed on longer than two hours, and that would help. My ex would pound on my back and that used so good but the satisfaction faded quickly without prolonged heat. In jail, and prison, they instruct you to put hot water on a towel. It cools off in minutes even if you are lucky enough to have a sink that can produce hot water. Non-effective treatments are your only options while locked up. Early on, I took so much Ibuprofen I think I burned a hole in my stomach because now it gives me stomach aches. Tylenol and other pain relievers don't do anything to help. Muscle relaxers make me nauseous or dizzy. It makes noises, so something moves that shouldn't, I figure. Then my muscles panic and try to hold me still awhile, I suppose it has already healed incorrectly or suffered permanent irreversible damage. In a way, I am my worst enemy. What a curse? Often it feels like it is hard to breath because it is in my thoracic spine, the middle hard to stretch. Very solid portion of the back. Sometimes it will make a clicking sound while I breathe. Rarely, it will make a snapping sound that I feel in my skull. The click must contact a rib because I feel that all the way around to my sternum. My elbow made two popping noises while sweeping the floor in jail. I was knocking some dirt together and the broom caught funny. Sharp pain right away that then went away in a couple seconds. Then, maybe fifteen minutes later, I went to pull open the door to go to rec and alarming pain spiked through my elbow again. The doctor at the time for Kenosha said I needed physical therapy for 12-16 weeks while it was healing, but then they didn't provide physical therapy for 12 weeks or more. I expect the elbow healed wrong too, and makes its own noises. It actually hurts less after I do a few push ups. It will make a click or snap, and it feels like something pops back in place. It still hurts, but it is then less painful to do push ups. It is always tender and sore at my elbow. I can feel it is somehow to do with my right ring finger as well. The tingling in my right heel I think is caused by the tendon in the bottom of my foot and my hamstring. Curling my toes while doing a hamstring stretch produces a sharp pain. Perpetual headache and eye pain, probably from lack of sleep. Baking my head in the pillow oven seems to help a bit. Good, healthy nutrition and proper rest is just a fantasy while locked up. I guess I am not really sure why I am explaining all of my health issues. Probably boring to read about.

Really, I was laying here playing a game on the tablet because I was not able to keep concentration on a book while my had searches for any way to help or protect my kids. While I was playing the game, I just started crying. Well, weeping, anyway. Tears running down my face. I often reply to a letter to change my frequency. I guess I went with the journal tonight because it was on the top of my writing supplies. I am going to go write a letter of random shapes and cryptic symbols to keep in my garbage. Decrypted, it will say: Amor Vincit Omnia. Guards will be excited to find that! A few frenzied minutes with a cracker-jack decoder ring and Google translate? Supervisors probably get the decoder rings. That's next level cool type stuff. Regular guards get to seize the encrypted messages but supervisors get to sit in air conditioned offices and play on their phones. Oh, and decrypt messages. I know I will get that for a tattoo when I get out of here. I don't have any ink yet. The I love You hand sign on the t-shirts and Z-swag? The members blowing up chat streams with it in support? I am not sure where, yet. Probably put my kids names on my chest over my heart. I won't be doing any face tattoos. How do you save children from their own mother?

Recreation today. I hurt so good. I still haven't unrolled the yoga mat because I use it to stretch my back. When I get back to my cell there is an elastic band from the physical therapist and paperwork authorizing it for 90 days. There is also a letter that I have submitted to send to someone overseas. It has been repeatedly stamped as being sent but the disbursement form to pay for the postage is now missing. The first two times the disbursement form came with it. What happened to the previous release? I don't know if it is unfamiliarity or refusal to send the letter because it is additional work. Additional hassle, and additional postage, for me to send anything direct. Do I complain and then have issue with guards? Stay quiet and settle for Text Behind? So frustrating. Much love for my support both in and outside of the country. As usual, I don't want to name any specific person. What people have sent and talked about in their correspondence has really breathed some appreciation for life into my days and I really enjoy it. A much better way to spend my days than to draw a giant face on the wall with my own feces and accuse him of having a shitty attitude. I never did that but I figure everyone must have a number of days before they lose it and start doing stuff like that. Actually, I fight the inclination to take the oil pastels and blot a blurry sunset out across from my bunk and pretend it's the coast of California.

My kids mother refuse me video visits with my three most precious of all. Looking at their pictures probably stops me from acting out like that. If they take their pictures then they better take away my art supples too. Starry, starry night by Z. Anderson...