Tuesday, January 16, 2001

If Ida will shut up long enough, maybe I can concentrate on writing. Sometimes I want to stuff a roll of toilet paper in this shriveled-up old veiny antique’s mouth!

I’m looking forward to seeing Tom today.

I asked Deanna, who talked to Kara today, and she says you do have to put in a tank to see her. She won’t just come to us. Well, I’m not going to bother because I’m forced to do enough talking to people as it is.

Deanna wants to try to get in the big cell next door, and I talked with Mary, who still wants to return to 203 with me. I can’t imagine any DO going for it, though. God, why can’t Chambers work here more often?!

Nobody likes today’s DO, Madrid. She did give me blue juice instead of green juice when I asked, though. Temple was on last night. She and Brea are so sweet. Always pleasant smiles on their faces. Brea took the time to say goodbye to me before she left the last time she was on, and Temple asked how I was doing at breakfast time.

Oh my God! Ida’s actually motionless. She’s sitting still on her bed reading.


Kahn’s on now. The very one who moved me in with Ida. I’m going to let her know that I like Ida and have no problem with staying with her, but would like to shoot back down to 203 with Mary (Deanna did move next door). I’m sure she’ll say no, but it’s worth a try.


I was right. Kahn said no. Forget it, Mary! I give up.

Why did they cater to Deanna’s wishes, though? Afraid she’d cry racism?

I gave Melinda 3 envelopes for a pair of batteries today.

Saw Tom earlier. He still seems to think we can do farming and that that can be my so-called job. I still have a hell of a nagging feeling that says - run, die, or go to prison for at least 2 years.

I’ll have to ask Tom whether or not my probation is standard or intensive. If it’s intensive, then I’m doubly fucked from what Ida tells me. She tells me I shouldn’t have to work if I’m on standard probation. Well, either way, they can tell me not to do what I did ever again, but they cannot tell me what to do with my life!

Since my threatening the jail commander with bad publicity and more, concerning the cold showers, two plumbers have come and gone. They contradicted themselves, though, the stupid cocks. I heard them tell next door they have no control over the water temperature, but when Myra downstairs asked if they came to fix the hot water, they said yes. Well, time will tell whether or not they really “fixed” it or if I’ll have to call the numbers Tom’s mailing me to force them to reach out and turn the temperature dial up to where it belongs.

Got a letter from Paula. She has a cold, misses my journals, and asked how I was doing. She asks the same questions like is it bad here? What do I do all day? She says she saw the jail on TV when they were here filming.

I gave Christoffers the same evil glare she gives me when I saw her as I was passing one of the big dorms.

Poor Ida. Now it’s her turn to deal with this horrid flu. Of course that means I won’t get much sleep with her coughing, but if it wasn’t that, it’d be something else.

My guess was right about us getting our commissary tomorrow, rather than today. They’ll hit us when they hit the tents. Kahn passed out commissary sheets tonight and said we’d get it tomorrow.

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