Bollox! Fell asleep right after the 9:30pm count last night and my back woke me up about 1:00am. We were doing so okayish the last few days too. My kingdom for a heating pad and some tiny pounding fists.

I dreamt I encountered two young boys looking to graffiti the wall in a long stone tunnel. We exited the tunnel and I could not go back to collect my things. Then I asked a teenager who just parked his truck in the parking lot if I could leave my pocket knife in his truck while I go into the school to talk to my kids teachers. I open the white truck door, confused the handle is forward under the rearview mirror, almost. When I lean over to put the knife in the glove box a police officer is at the door and says he saw drug paraphernalia. I tell him it isn't my vehicle so I cannot consent to any search. Then he tells me to stay right there and goes to find the kid who was driving the truck. I track down his sister in the gym but am awoken when I bend over to toss something in the trash and feel my back pain. My dreams are usually this sort of scrambled eggs emotions and nonsense. 

Although I have been gifted a pocket knife twice in my life, I have never carried one but in some District Attorney's maybe fantasies. The first was a Swiss army knife when I was about 8 years old. Cut 9 of 10 fingers trying to carve my name into a wooden picnic table because the blade kept folding on me. The second was from a friend who advocates pocket knife culture. It was for Christmas a few years before I was arrested. That knife became my favorite utensil but it remained with my other food weapons in the kitchen drawer and never rode around in my pocket. "Drawer knife" sounds funny though so I think we stick to "pocket" as it implies that it folds to be safely carried and "folds-to-be-safely-carried" is much too long and inconvenient to say or print. Odd that a dream including a folds-to-be-safely-carried knife did not include food or a picnic table. Maybe that was me dreaming about being hungry. Not that I ever know why exactly I write about what I do or whom I may be writing to but, yes, nine of my fings had bandaids on them and Josh's knife did not collapse so easily. He finished carving his initials without any self-inflicted wounds and looked at my bandaged hands and incomplete carving like I was too stupid or hard headed to give up and neither possibility could really make sense to him. I think the second time it snapped shut on my fingers he looked like he was searching to see if I had cut any fingers off, completely. So if you pick out a pocket knife for your kids, go with the one that doesn't have a corkscrew and spoon, and looks in place real solid. Plus, no kids need corkscrews anyway. It could only encourage alcoholism as just about nothing but wine is sealed with corks nowadays. We don't need Tommy sneaking snifter into school. The third grade teacher and school counselor wouldn't know if detention or intervention would be appropriate course of action.

I see the physical therapist today about 1:00 to 1:30pm. Back? The devil. Elbow? No change. Foot? Better. May shoulder has been enjoying the exercise. Nate updates his notes. Today is also nice enough to go outside for rec. I am playing with fire shooting the basketball. My back may not forgive me for it but there is so little movement that he rest of me is dying for some sort of activity. I also worry that when the snow accumulates then it will be months before I will have another opportunity.

The guy who was initially reluctant to share the phone bothered to offer it to me today. Not sure what provoked his change of heart but patients again proves effective which is good. Punchy is probably the fastest way to gain any respect or clout but it will probably upset security staff. I don't need anything that might demand medical attention since that is all but absent.

​One of the inmates says that the guy a few cells down in 106 has been issued disciplinary tickets for his behavior. It is intentionally disruptive so it seems befitting. He seems to howl less since I said something to him at rec a week ago. At least between 10:00pm and 6:00am. He still does though. Weirdo. 

The property guy brings the rest of the envelopes this morning.

​My back is having another good day, or at least not a bad one.

Turkey, stuffing, mashed (instant) potatoes and gravy and apple pie square. We do get a Turkey day, just not on the actual holiday. Probably cheaper that way. The turkey is a little off. It seems like its meat and fat that was compressed into a block and pressure cooked but it is actual turkey meat. The property guy, Finnell, brings my power strip and envelopes but denies three of the five packs for being over the allowable limit. I plead that I have more than fifteen letters I need to send out and have been out for weeks. He says the possibility that I may reject an order approaches annoying because it prevents him from engraving items with my inmate number in advance. The phone and envelope restrictions impose a completely undue burden on me and the people I care about. Plus, it is enforced to their discretion which is code for whatever policy they want to use to harass and inconvenience. So frustrating. 

Well, I spared all of Thanksgiving weekend any jokes about crying foul the prosecutorial or judicial misconduct. Pun-ishment for crimes I didn't commit?

The thumping and reverberating bass and arguments about sports teams starts early today, about 9:30am. It amazes me that they carry on for hours and hours by trying to substantiate their positions with win loss records and history that consists largely of different team members. They usually just get louder or more aggressive to try to win the argument but never offer anything in depth or particularized detail. I guess what I am trying to say is that earplugs are great but don't eliminate the noise.

My back is having a better day after yesterdays rec time but my elbow isn't pleased with me today. I am not sure what I want to share. Dreams have been interesting but I am awaiting some response or feedback to know if I should avoid sharing those. The current consensus has been predominately negative. Stories about my childhood of cartoons, G.I. Joe's, and Transformers is not very entertaining and obnoxiously obvious by the generationally targeted marketing of sophisticated Hollywood throw-back movies. There is teen angst which is forever awkward and probably not something I want to share with everyone.

True to the nature of the internet, I am sure my journal attracts the attention of plenty of harass-holes whose participation in life is a detriment and not a benefit to everyone around them. Without being able to get a sense of what impressions are being left, I have no good way to determine if sharing my thoughts are experiences is appropriate. Right now is the only practical way to respond and connect to the large group of people who have both compassionate hearts and reasonable minds. Often, after I have sealed the envelope to send out what I wrote, I think I should not have written something or expressed it differently. I don't know what happens when you think out loud, enough for the whole world to hear. Most won't care to. I am grateful you do.

​When do I get to talk about the stuff I am not allowed to talk about? Like, what was in Frosty the Snowman's pipe? Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas. 

One of the greatest days in Kenosha's history.

Slate grey stone and dark brown walnut colored pews descended about a 15 degree pitch for hundreds of feet under gothic pointed arches that initially appeared to be a cathedral but instead of an alter and tabernacle was instead mastered by a judges bench and the facia of a courtroom. A man named Artymis made oral complaint to the judge about conditions of confinement as a prisoner but had failed to remember a precedent case and was volleyed the information from someone in the immense gallery of observers. I am seated at the back, as far away from the judge as possible but the slope is acoustically effective, like an amphitheater and I hear the judge attempt to dismiss the complaint because of the assistance from the gallery. A woman from the group is seated int the row in front of me and smiles that she is glad to see me here. Some of the gallery begins a commotion about the judges eagerness to dismiss Artymis. Instead of raising my voice, I decide the simplest way to demonstrate my opposition to the judge and support of the complaint is to stand up. When I do, so does every other person in the gallery. Thousands of people in one large shuffle take their feet right after me. But my back and elbow are bothering me so I am awakened to readjust.

Then I lay there thinking about the dream for an hour and a half until morning count. It is the first dream I have recollected with a group member, so I suppose I needed to share it. Some people think they send me pictures and encouraging words but it is actually much more than that. What a great dream. 

Two things deviated from my expectations today. A "white shirt" assisted in delivering dinner. And, dinner included a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. So the kitchen does share the good chips with inmates and supervisors do pitch in. They did cancel phone calls again yesterday for lack of staff but I was scheduled and got to call before the cancellation. Maybe monitoring phone calls requires more supervisors. Even though the current restrictions are supposedly more strict than the standards applied to this place when it was called a "Super-max," the guards respond to pleases and thank yous in kind, for the most part. The experience is still largely peculiar but I don't feel mistreated for some sort of contempt. It isn't easy, but I do not think it was a mistake to come here considering my options. Plus, the tap water seems drinkable. 

I was out in my yard behind my large white colonial house when the neighbor and his brother came home. I watched him enter the rectangular fence next to his house and lasso his dog which was beyond excited to try to run free. He kept repeatedly drawing the dog back but the dog was relentless. My daughter came out of the house and asked me if I was going to cut the grass. I told her that I was going to wait since I was enjoying the clusters of yellow flowers that scatted themselves among the thick green wild. The neighbors dog broke from his owners restraint and bolted into the taller grass with a leap that sent a flurry of grasshoppers in all directions. He called for the dog; "Zach! Zach!" I thought "He is happy, just let him be." Then I told my daughter that we can help the flowers if we mat the grass down in a spiral underneath and around them so they don't get choked out. Just lift the flowers a little to the side and use your foot to step the grass down. Then I was in the house and heard someone at the front door. When I checked, a newspaper had been delivered through the front doors letter slot. Looking at it I figured it was for the previous resident but thought I might read it and see what I thought. Then my usual curse brought me back to this cell. But I can close my eyes and still see the flowers. 

Today I cut the last bit of nail ridge that remained of my malnutrition from being incarcerated in Kenosha. There is still a line that runs with the grain of the nail, but the nail has grown out enough that the thickness is now all the same. They cancelled all phone calls today and had to "emergency count" us twice, even though we haven't been out of our cells. If you checked to see if your car was in the garage, every thirty minutes of the day and night, and still had to emergency check to see if the vehicle was still there... twice? Prisons don't need more funding. They need better methods. Not getting to use the phone is a bummer but I got mail today which makes it easier to focus on the good over the bad. Another day closer. 

Happy Thanksgiving! This holiday used to be spent by visiting my maternal grandparents. The holiday has otherwise sort of held or adopted different meaning for people than its origin story may suggest but regardless of the nature of the first thanksgiving, we have a day to focus on what to be thankful for and to pause from all the distractions that keep us from our families. Before the phone system flaked out I was able to briefly call my family and speak to my sister. I am thankful for my family and friends. I am thankful for all the people who have become a part of my life in the face of the tragedy that has wrongfully incarcerated me. The prison added a small container of generic crunch berries cereal to breakfast and gave inmates a chocolate chunk cookie with dinner instead of the usual oatmeal raisin. I suppose more people may read this than are part of the group who supports me, but to all the people who have joined the effort and are now somehow part of my life: thank you, so much, for everything. Words of affirmation, time, acts of service, gifts, and physical contact are the five universal love languages. I fit the things people do into those categories and think it is perfect that our groups identity can so appropriately carry the I Love You hand sign as a symbol of everything it means and implies.

​Again, and with lots of love, Happy Thanksgiving.

A newer inmate is complaining that it is supposedly required that inmates are required to be provided four hours of rec per week and we only get one and a half to three. The needs of the institution trump all prisoners rights and the guards are supposedly interested in negotiating better contracts so they intentionally move slow to demonstrate they want more money. Leveraging incompetence for better pay? How poorly can you do your job to make the most money. Rewarding counter productivity and frauding tax payers? What occurred to me is that laws which do not prescribe a remedy, and requirements that hold no consequence are essentially not what they claim to be. A good law says what it intends to accomplish, what is required to satisfy the policy, and what is required when the policy fails to be satisfied. The penalty for speeding is a varigated cost depending on how much you exceeded the posted limit. The interest that is protected is fortified by the issuance of a citation. If inmates don't get hot water, recreation, legal access, or whatever, there is no responsibility if the people who have the least ability to defend themselves legally can manage to bring the arguments to a court who has a myriad of excuses to dismiss the issues, and creates a standard for refusing what is pretended to be a requirement. Delay all complaints until the limits expire and refuse to address the issues?

I was asked by one of the inmates across from me if I had requested to be staffed at Dodge. He was there as a kitchen worker for a while and was going to be a legal clerk with a friend of his. I told him I wouldn't ask to be housed at Dodge because the librarian. He tells me that she is always doing inappropriate things for attention and that guards used to gossip about her. One guard, he says, told him that she sued the prison and got a big settlement but wears thin, skin-tight shirts without any brazier to draw attention. He even goes into detail about how she tries to bend over in front of the guys she likes and how she showcases her nipples. He even points out how she pretends she isn't fishing for attention because her shirts have a high neck line but why her behavior seems to be to antagonize another possible lawsuit. If that is true, then I was just a victim of her latest "tease" at a possible law suit. I have no way to see if you sued the prison or any staff but can't see how she would still work there, unless they had terminated the other staff person? 

I am sure people are wondering why I am not writing but I am out of envelopes and I am disinclined to ask for more. I only get five written pages of journal sent per envelope (instead of the usual 7 or 8) so what few I get go quickly. I am bothering to mention because some people have resent old letters expecting I failed to receive them. I don't get enough phone access to call and tell everyone. A lack of response is not for lack of want but lack of ability. If you send envelopes, remember it may take weeks before they make it to me and then I often reprioritize who gets a response which is always my intent to write to people going through the worse tragedies first. I suppose it is just my effort to be there for them the way they have been here for me. I really want to carry on the other conversations and correspondence. More than anything else right now, I enjoy the one or two days per week they bring personal mail.

Some of the guys were talking about old movies and my neighbor asked if I had ever seen Stand by Me. When I was maybe about seven years old I was playing in some drainage ditch with my brother and two other boys. We got leeches all over our legs. That movie makes me think of that. We didn't know salt would chase them off and resorted to pulling the creepy looking aliens off of us which left the little sucker holes where they bit in. So gross. The guys ask about The Outsiders too. My head doesn't hold on to movie quotes very well, but I remember enjoying that movie too. "Stay Golden, Pony Boy."