I feel so much better now that I’ve had a shower. I was beginning to wonder if they’d ever let me out, or if they screwed up and listed my psych session as my hour out. That was the latest I’ve ever been out. Nearly 10:30. There was no trustee on when I was out, so I had to sharpen these pencils by hand. If the commissary could be reliable enough, I’d just order new pencils weekly. They’re only 10¢ each.

Naturally, I had to deal with the demands when I was out. Yesterday it was someone begging for a change of clothes. I played deaf with her, but tonight’s pest was hard to ignore. The freeloaders yelled in my ear as I walked by to get a lighter for her from a few cells down. I did it, even though it was stupid of me, the one who always gets caught, and who could’ve gotten in deep shit. Well, I ain’t going to make a habit of doing their dirty work for them, that’s for sure. I guess it’s just that as a former smoker, I understood their cravings.

I found a slip of paper in here when I returned from the shower, saying I’m eligible for work furlough. But I’m not interested! So I’m going to fill out a tank letting them know I live way out in Maricopa, don’t want to get caught up in anything in the city, and have other plans for when I get out (farming), not that it’s any of their business, and maybe then they’ll leave me alone. I’m also not interested in working for Joe. I heard all the money you make goes to the sheriff. Now why would I want to go to work for him or anyone else in this fucking corrupt system? That’d really be lowering myself, and I’ve been lowered enough by others already.

Now the question is – do I want to go through the big fight I’ll have to go through every couple of weeks when my inhaler runs out, or just forget it? I just don’t understand what the big deal is. I’ve already seen the doctor, so why can’t they just give the nurse a new fucking inhaler to give to me when she does her rounds? Is this just another form of punishment that goes with being in jail? Probably so, but it’s wrong. They shouldn’t be playing games when it comes to meds. Jail is hard enough as it is.

I’m amazed at how brave these mice are now. They eat right by my feet and look pretty good for jail mice. Not just because I’ve been feeding them well, but because of their fur. They look like they could pass for Fancy mice.

Dinner last night was pretty good. I actually got full for a change. I got a generous portion of plain chocolate ice cream that wasn’t fully melted, a beef patty (fake), and spinach leaves. I think they’re spinach leaves, anyway, which is better than the carrots we got my first 3-4 weeks here. I wish they’d serve yogurt for lunch! I hear they rarely do. I hope we don’t get eggs twice in a row for breakfast. We got cereal twice in a row, but I like cereal. It’s either cereal, waffles, or eggs for breakfast. Once we got cottage cheese. I wish they’d give us that again. For drinks, we get milk at breakfast, a small bottle of juice at lunch, and a cup of juice at dinner.

I wish I could go home! I can’t wait to get out of this dungeon of concrete and steel!

Now would be the perfect time for a radio. I could listen to music in between walks. Watch, I’ll get my commissary and a celly at the same time. Actually, I should have the celly long before I have the commissary.

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It’s cold in here! I don’t think A’s getting any heat at all.

After breakfast, they came in with a stick to check to be sure the light fixtures and windows were secure. I woke up 4 times before I got up at noon for lunch, and then my hour out. My wish came true and we had yogurt for lunch. Even a fruit bar.

On my hour out I swept, mopped, got my pencils sharpened, a medical tank, and a grievance form. Tom said, when I saw him earlier, to keep putting in requests without taking the fit I took before. I’ll keep putting them in, but they keep ignoring them, yet Tom says that’ll look good for us in the end. I get copies of all my unanswered tanks, and they have to respond to grievances. The question is if I don’t pitch a “suicidal fit,” how long am I going to have to wait? I want to just forget it, rather than go through this fucking bullshit, but I’ll do it for Tom. My first tank went out on the 5th and tomorrow, the 8th, I’ll put my second one out. Come next Monday, though, I’ll grieve daily.

He called SS. The first time I was on SS was to get benefits through Art till I was 22, then I got on it for myself. What I didn’t know was that they keep me listed on their books as disabled all my life. All they did in ‘94 was suspend my payments. Tom’s having my medical records transferred from MA to their Snottsdale office. Once they arrive (probably after New Year’s) he’ll send me a release form to sign so he can pick up copies.

I misunderstood Tom about who got letters on Monday. The only one that’s gone out so far is the PO’s. He wants to give her a week’s response time. When she could care less about me to respond, then Tom may send other letters.

Tom thinks it’ll all work out when I get out of here. I hope he’s right because I see 1 of 3 things happening when I get out. I see me dying, us running, or us returning to PHX so I can get on a bus line so I can work because the PO won’t reason with me and accommodate me, and because SS denied my application to reinstate me.

A111

No more being alone. Now I’m with Tina W. Yes, she talks a lot, but she’s fairly tame and sane for a change. I think we’ll get along OK. That’s what I thought with Deanna, though, so you never know. For now, she seems easygoing enough. She’s older, too. She’s 40, and it’s nice to be with someone older for a change. She’s white, 5’ 4”, too thin, with shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair, light eyes, and lots of wrinkles.

She too, says prison is better than jail. They’ll even let you be with your girlfriend if you have one.

She confirms my worst fears, saying probation’s such a pain in the ass that she’d rather just do jail time. She’s been in jail a few times, as well as prison. She was in for forgery because she used credit cards that she knew were stolen, and now she’s in for drugs. She said her son was kidnapped and murdered years ago and it made her turn to coke. She has another 20-year-old son.

This is the same woman that was bullied out of M Dorm by that black bitch. The one that bragged about being in prison for 13 years.

I really appreciate Nottelmann’s seeing that I got in with a sane celly and for letting me get my old mattress. The old one that was in here was so hard, so I doubled them up and am quite comfy now. Well, as comfy as I can be for being in jail.

Tina has also had the privilege of celling with agent Tara, who supposedly returned to the tents. That’d mean she has to work. I didn’t think she had the mentality to work.

We had chicken tonight, but no dessert other than an apple. Tina gave me hers (because of her dentures) and her cottage cheese, too. I gave her my bland potatoes. She’s trying to gain weight, so I’ll give her most of my bread.

I told Tina about my case. She thinks what everyone else thinks – it’s all bullshit.