How about another dream?
It begins with me and my daughter playing hide and seek with a group of people over at my friends house. (This actually happened when she was younger.) I was showing her how to be clever about changing your hiding spot and trying to pick spots where you could tell where the seeker had already checked. When I walked into the doors of the exposed face basement there were a group of people talking in a circle. As I leaned down to collect my belongings a fight breaks out in the group where a friend of mine lays out three other guys and is confused by why they and a girl sporadically attacked him. He laughs at the girl trying to hit him and says he needs to go upstairs which he promptly does in big leaping strides skipping many steps at a time. I finish collecting my things which include a rifle that is a smaller caliber military looking style with a short scope on it. I too head upstairs and go to use the bathroom where I discover my roommate has left a plastic bag out on the sink. I think he still maintains habits from also having been in prison when I hear breaking glass in the front room. I run to the front room and realize someone is shooting into the house. I get into a position where I can shoot out of the lower left corner of a broken window somewhat obstructed by a tree and bushes just outside. I catch two men at the front door and a number of them circling the house before the police arrive. The attackers shoot and injure one of the officers and I cannot help him from my location so I exit the house and catch a few more attackers who were most distracted by the responding officers. It all happens very quickly and, after I shoot through one and a half magazines, I had shot nine people who I presumed to be attempting to rob my roommate for his reputation for selling large quantities of drugs before he went to prison. As I am cleaning up the broken glass I realize I don't know if my roommate is okay but when I find him in the basement he is not shot but he is deaf and blind to me. As I head back upstairs to try to find some help or a way to figure out why I am immaterial to him, I get a panic feeling of being chased. Too preoccupied with where I am fleeing, I do not look back to see the source of the chasing footsteps until I get to the front room again where my rifle is gone but I am cornered. I turn around to see my roommates face morph into a demon with no idea how I will defend myself. Awoken by a call over the intercom requesting we "buzz up" If we want to receive evening medications. I haven't been writing very much lately because my letters are being delayed or not being sent out at all. Sending a letter to my brother used to take three days and now takes almost two weeks if it gets there at all. I suppose that means the mail room is cutting open and reading my mail. The notice prohibiting me from communicating with my daughter because her mother called the prison and told them to stop me included the "carbon copy" to the mailroom and now sending letters has all sorts of problems for me. Also, I don't think I have received any books since then either. At least not when there regular mailroom guy is working. I have a small pile of notices that they denied delivery of the last four or five books. I think one notice is for two books. I wish the money spent on books was used for a tablet that didn't have a messed up screen. The one I have now messes with my eyes. The screen is dark to one eye which makes it weird to use. The new tablet has a better screen and you can access tons of old books for free via the tablet. Jail and prison use excuses to throw inmate property away because they collect a percent of the business inmates spend on movies, music, and other things. If the government gets to tax you, it finds every excuse to compel you to buy things by which it can tax you. It sort of would be like law enforcement coming into your house and throwing away or seizing your food or alcohol while you were at work just so you would have to buy replacements. Except, you can't get a job and have to beg family and friends for money. Basically, caring for people in prison incurs a burden and punishment on you as well as the prisoner. Justice? Exploitive call center of petty depravities and harassments? I really dislike needing to ask anyone for anything. Can you tell? For all the resources, the prison system seems to champion the most wasteful use of them. The false pretense that inmates are neglected or deprived of anything because they do not have enough staff is absurd. They could provide four times the recreation and phone calls with what they have. There could be unlimited legal access and clerical support. The food could be much better as well; less expensive and healthier. There is no competitive interest that challenges the institution to be better. It is really just forced to make any change by lawsuits over things that should never have occurred in the first place. Never have occurred in the first place or had been responded to with any good or honest interest.
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aboutThese are the journal entries of Zachariah Anderson. All entries are originally handwritten by Zach and then transcribed on his behalf. Please note that occasional misspellings and grammar errors may be fixed during transcription for the sake of making the entries easier to read and sensitive information may be redacted. Archives
September 2024
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