I am one pissed-off mother-fucker! I’m so fucking tired! This exhaustion from being woken up a zillion times is going to kill me. What? Am I being punished for the times I could sleep? Why is God so determined to torture me like this? Why am I so cursed? I’m even having second thoughts about trying to sleep with Tom when I get out. I don’t want to be woken up 5-10 times a night for the rest of my life. I’m completely non-adaptable in that department and there’d be no use in trying to tell myself otherwise. I couldn’t just “get used to” his sounds and movements. I can’t adapt to everything. I have my limits, too.

I’m hoping to catch up on my sleep this weekend when there’s less going on, but if they let Monkey Face out first at 8 AM - forget it. I couldn’t sleep through her screaming at everyone. It’s only the middle of the week and I hate to think of how I’ll feel come Friday!

The showers are scalding hot. They either have to be ice-cold or hotter than hell.

Bowe’s on now. She went out of her way to be positive and encouraging when she saw my tears of frustration and homesickness. I told her I didn’t think I could make it another 3 months and she said, “Yes, you will. Hang in there, sweetie.”

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Now Hann’s on. Hann used to be one of those that wasn’t bad or good. Lately, though, she’s been really friendly to me.

Fortunately, Julia’s rash wasn’t contagious. That’s all we’d need – to be rolled out of here so she could be in Medical isolation.

She was actually funny when she came back from Medical last night. She came up the stairs and stuck her tongue out at me. I did the same. Then she grinned and I did the same back. Ida, though, said she couldn’t smile back at her when she smiled at her this morning, but that’s Ida for you. She holds grudges longer than I tend to. I either forgive a person right away or I never do.

Ida insists Marilyn’s telling the truth about sucking Joe Arpaio’s dick (she’s a hooker) by the way she told the story when they were cellies.

Whatever. Johns do come from all different walks of life, so it very well could be true.

Speaking of Joe, he wants to starve us even more. Ida heard on the news, during our hour out that I tried unsuccessfully to sleep through, that he wants to cut us to 2 meals a day to save the taxpayers’ money. To save them money? The fucking food’s donated! So, we’re going to have two bites of starch, fake processed meat and dead veggies or fruit twice a day? If it weren’t for commissary I’d be emaciated now. Probably even if I forced myself to eat the 6 pieces of bread we get each day. This shit’s going to cause the guys to riot.

Tonight was a rarity in that we finally got chicken again. I smelled it with my doggie nose at 2:00 and told Ida we were having chicken tonight for sure and she thought I was nuts. She couldn’t smell a thing, let alone chicken. This is when I explained to Ida that when we’re born with one of our senses not working right, the others are stronger to make up for it. I’m like a human bloodhound, in a sense.

Ida also told me about when she went to China. She took a train from Beijing to some other place there, and she said it was a nightmare. For some reason, they treat their tourists better than themselves. Ida was in a nice, roomy boxcar on this train, but the Chinese were crammed in together like sardines. If you had to go to the bathroom on the train, you pissed through a hole in the floor of the train.

Their Chinese food isn’t what it is here, either. It’s all garlic and grease there.

Mejia was on last night. Don’t see her too often. She leaves the dayroom all lit up at night, which isn’t as relaxing for listening to music and sleeping, but it allows me to write if I want to.

After a few passes, I noticed she wasn’t taking my grievance on Smith. I put out a tank order at one point to try to get Ida a copy of that Hart vs. MCSO before she leaves and she took that. So on her next walk, I asked why she wasn’t taking my grievance. She said she thought it was a medical tank. I don’t believe her, but she took it. She asked if I wanted the light on and I told her no thanks. It was funny how I scared the shit out of her at first. I guess my voice came out louder than I meant for it to. She jumped, and I was trying to keep from laughing and waking up Ida. She begged me not to scare her from now on.

All morning, afternoon and evening we’ve been hearing scattered bangs that we’re pretty sure are coming from the door at the end of the hall that’s just beyond our wall. If it doesn’t stop, I really won’t get any sleep. Some days we hear it and some days we don’t. It’s worse than the freeloader’s car door slamming, but it reminds me of it. I swear God’s taken all the noise I ran from and amplified it a million times over!

I’m getting more nervous as Ida’s release date approaches. I not only don’t want a rude, inconsiderate bitch in here, but I also don’t want some religious freak in here, either. I’m not religious, I’m never going to be, and I don’t want to hear about it 24/7.

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This radio just won’t play any good songs. Guess that’s my cue to jot some thoughts down. Thoughts like – what will sex be like when I get home? Will we even do it? That might seem kind of weird after all this time. Probably for him, too.

After Maria told me about her sex life, I told her it wouldn’t faze me if Tom and I never had sex again. It’s nothing Tom did, but I’m just sick of it is all and I’ve been sick of it long before jail. Maria agreed I probably just got bored with it and says the desire will return someday. If it does, it does. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I can get just as much, if not more, from hugging, cuddling, reading together in bed, doing things together, etc. The love/emotional part of it is more important to me than the sexual. Also, I couldn’t “just screw” like I know Tom prefers. I know he wasn’t thrilled with the way we had to start our sex life slowly.

I’m finding I really miss sex with women. It’s so much simpler. With a guy, it’s more complicated. With a woman I don’t have to worry about things like us getting into it, then having to stop while I go put the KY on that I forgot to put on up front. With Tom, I have to try to guess whether or not we’re going to screw and put KY on if I think we will. Sometimes I end up gunking myself up with the shit for no reason, although this stuff’s much easier to wash off. It just seems that sex with a guy is more of an inconvenience, more of a chore. And I would always get that irritation too, that you just don’t get with another woman. Sometimes I wish I could have the relationship I’ve got with Tom, since I certainly have no desire to leave him, yet have the sex part with a woman. I know this isn’t going to happen, though.

It’s after 9:30 and still that banging’s going on. We hear a few bangs an hour and it’s definitely a door of some kind. I asked, but Hann doesn’t even know for sure what it is. I wish I could move to 3 where it’s quieter, warmer and darker and stay there more than a week! Better yet, I wish I could just get the fuck out of here and go home!

I am not looking forward to playing yet another day of 20 wake-ups. Breakfast, “Are you OK,” clothes exchange, rec and other calls, etc. The thought of not being able to sleep 8 hours straight through for 80 more days is depressing.

Ida had said she learned I’m for real, but after she leaves, will she be for real? She says she’s not thinking of blowing me off, but can’t say how she’ll feel once she’s out. I think she’ll write and send those newspaper articles she wrote, but I doubt I’ll ever see her again. She’d be losing a good typist, but it’s her call.

This night has been dragging on and on. Jail is so boring! All I do is listen to music and write. I can’t get into reading. Thank God for my little radio and for my love of writing!

Ida and I were playing a name-guessing game where we’d guess the DO’s names by their initials. I guessed Palma to be a Juanita or a Janita, Nottelmann to be a Sarah or a Sandy, black Johnson to be Gloria or Glenda, and Kahn to be Janet, Janice or Janine. “And white Johnson’s probably Renee, Rachel or Rebecca,” I said.

“I think her name’s Rhoda,” said Ida.

“Nah, you have to be super ugly to be a Rhoda. Could be Ronda, but I doubt it. Maybe Robin. Definitely not Ruby, Rita, Ruth or Roberta. I’ll bet Pérez is Roberta, though.”