Don is an idiot. As much as I lover Raymond I hate Don. Even his name is stupid.

Don doesn’t mess with me. I hardly ever talk to him. You ever meet someone who  makes you wanna punch  him just  by the way he looks?  It was probably Don. He’s real scraggly looking like a bit fat stupid looking muslim. He actually, and I’m not making this up, wraps a sheet around his head like a Muslim headpiece.

When the guard gets on the intercom (its against regulations to put anything over your face or on your head) or say something about it at the door, this moron  tells them  its his religious clothing and if they don’t bring him a prayer rug and tell him where East is that he’s going to sue the jail. And they laugh and walk away.

One day he wanted them to refund $8 for a haircut he didn’t get. He ACTUALLY told them that he was going to blow up our pod if they didn’t give him his money. Someone from our pod was getting a haircut up front and told us that they heard over the radio that a Muslim was going to blow up our pod and all the guards left.

Don had told them he was a suicide bomber with 12 pounds of dynamite. They thought he was hilarious. The guards. I think he’s an idiot. He’s always saying goofy stuff like “Oh boy” and everyone starts it all the time. Hardened criminals.

The other night he told Lee that once he’d caught an albino catfish. Named it Wayne and put it in a bucket of water. Little by little he drained the water until one day there was none left. He had trained the catfish to breathe air. He just kept it damp so it wouldn’t dry out. Said that  he took that catfish everywhere. Trained it to flop beside him around the house.

One day he went fishing and took Wayne with him. Just set him right on the dock beside him. Well one of the bait crickets jumped out of the little cardboard box into the pond. Wayne, being hungry and loving crickets, jumped in after it, And drowned.  Yeah they all think he’s soooo funny. Well I don’t. I think he’s sad.

IMW

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Wife

I miss talking to her. I miss everything. I’m sorry. I wish I was better. IMW

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Stuck

Stuck in a single man cell in the medical unit. Christmas day. Christmas meals were crackers and blue jello for breakfast. Crackers for lunch and dinner. I sang Happy Birthday to Jesus but I still haven’t heard from Him. I’m sure He’s still angry with me.

I don’t know how to keep serving Him. He hasn’t given me the strength or peace to. My prayers  drop like lead as they leave my mouth and are probably swept up with the candy wrappers and dirty Q-tips. Dear Lord if you’re still out there, I’m sorry. Please come back. I need you.  I miss wife and Jesus. Or Jesus and wife.

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When you can’t Pray…

What do you do when you can’t pray to do the right thing anymore?  When you’re convinced  that God is intentionally ignoring your prayers? Because I failed  Him. And the oldest  institution established. Because I lied to Him. I told Him I wanted Him to take everything. He used my own failing to do it but He did it. When you don’t trust Him or in Him. When the only dreams you had were destroyed. And used to beat you mostly dead? When the only thing you feel is pain and the only emotions you have is hate? When it feels like you’re already in hell. No contact with God and every moment and eternity of pain. What do you do then? When you have no hope, no promise from God, no assurance, no faith.

Nothing to hold on to and no strength to do it any way? No way to end it all yet. What do I do. I don’t know. What do you do when there is blood on your hands that you can’t get off? When everyone tries to destroy you and their lies become truth. I don’t know. Even if I knew it couldn’t help God hates me. He hated Esau and I’m far far worse.  I miss wife.

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The Worst Part So Far…

The worst part of being locked up so far is trying to go to sleep. These last months I haven’t slept at all much less rested.  I  lost all that. But at least  outside I could control my sleeping. Through copious amounts of sleeping pills  and caffeine I was able to regulate it much easier. Anything to avoid laying awake in bed at night. It had gotten to absurd amounts but it worked.

No such luck here. Laying in a bunk with no pillow, on a thin rubber mattress, on a frame 4 inches too short. Takes forever to go to sleep. Lights are slightly dimmed  to signal bed time and we’re sent to the bunks. Mine is situated just right wher I get a full dose but just enough shadow not to read.  Two hours of forced reflection  than 6 hours of dreams that only twist the knife that much more. I wish she knew how much I’m hurting and that if helped her with her anger. I’d much rather be dead. No chance to explain or make things right and the rest of my life to think about it. Yeah death will be much better. IMW.

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Staying Just above the Water Line

No one helped me. Wife tried her best but she didn’t know how completely. She kept me alive and above the water through sheer force of her will. I prayed and prayed for God to help me. But He didn’t. I was trying to stay above  water while holding what felt like giant stones on my shoulders. I was so lost. I just had no idea of who or where to turn to. I was a prisoner in my life. I’m so sick of people telling me that I have my whole life ahead of me. Thats whats so scary. How could someone be asked to fight for their own life when what they are fighting for is just 50 more years of agony? All I wanted was to be a good minister and a great husband. So fight, pull myself forward inch by inch through the long horrible days and horrible nights? Fighting just to have one more day of agony? The whole time being crushed by the weight of the future and being chased by the pain of the past? I doubt anyone would condemn the victims of 9/11 jumping from the fiery towers. No one understands. I’m not wanting to go to my death. I just want to escape the pain. I’ve tried thinking of every way possible to kill myself in prison but it’s impossible to do if in a sure way. I don’t want to injure myself to where I can’t attempt it again or be locked away to stop it. I’m just biding my time until I can. I can’t take the rest of my life with wife thinking me a monster and not loving me. Not one person came to my aid! Not one! The anger and hate has to hurt someone and I think I have hurt enough other people. I just have to turn it inward. I miss wife.

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3  Meals a day 7:00 a.m.; 12:30p.m.; 4:30 p.m.

Mop and broom etc. at 6:30 p.m.

I’m reading, playing a few hands of rummy with Chris ( who I think may be touched if you know what I mean).

Keep sending money it will transfer with me and I’m laying the foundation for my empire.

One last guy. Terry was in for some sort of serious sex crime. Against a child. He doesn’t talk at all but he did to me kinda. He and Chris were amazed that I wasn’t judgemental toward them.  Said they wished more people were like that. They’re drinking the hooch now. It looks like pineapple juice.

No one ever tried to plead my case with wife. And because I didn’t want to drag my accuser down with me it just made me look that much more guilty.

Love always, 

God is still on the throne. We are not. And the devil can suck it!

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In seven days I’ve read 11 books for a total of 2384 pages. I try to take it slow because the chaplain only comes by on Tuesdays to change them out. Most of them are westerns and are  about as formulaic as you can get.  I don’t know why  but most of them involve a gunslinger that comes along to save a family in dire straits. Inevitably the unhappily  married wife throws her self at the rugged stranger. Forget that her husband isn’t so debenair as the new guy because he’s  been busy keeping the family together. Busting it everyday to keep them just  afloat.  Sometimes the  hero gives in to the wife ( justifying it by the fact that he’s not sleeping with a friends wife) and sometimes he convinces her that she should stay with her husband. It makes me sick to see how cavalierly people treat marriage. Every person in here with me is on wife number 2 at least. And has cheated on them on numerous occasions. It’s killing me though. I care about one thing only and its not my current location.

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I’m in a cell with one of the guys who I used to give Bible studies to when I would visit the prison with church groups. He told me I looked familiar. Our Bible study group consists of  a baby killer, a drug lord, a dope addict, a sexual offender and me.  The worst of the bunch. I get more spirituality  in these song services than at any time in the past five years. maybe the church I was going to? Maybe my attitude? Both. But I definitely like these guys better. I used to stand outside the bathroom door and listen to wife sing hymns or worship songs in the shower. I don’t think she ever knew. I wasn’t getting anything from church cause they were so hateful. The leadership anyway. And I had a couple of psychopaths around. Really I never had a chance but I guess its my fault. If motives counted for anything I could have some hope. But life isn’t a fairy tale. I couldn’t take communion which used to be my favorite part of church. I would have eaten and drunk so much damnation upon my soul I would need 2 Calvaries to get right. Not with whats in my heart. That hurts. I hope my part helps my wife to heal or get better. I don’t think she knows but, sometimes I get to hurting so bad I physically can’t breath. Its like a huge weight is on my chest. Maybe one day it will stay on it a little longer

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