M204

Chambers did help me, and believe it or not, I’m in a big cell with Teresa and Nancy. It’s nice to be in it with two nice, quiet people, rather than three loud obnoxious bitches, but I still prefer small cells. I’m not worried about it, though. I’m not the new kid on the block anymore who no one knows, so it’s just a matter of days before someone pulls me. It’s too bad I don’t like these cells. I could probably finish up my time right where I’m at. Big cells are easy to get into and hard to get pulled out of unless you ask.

Anyway, Nancy’s very mellow and quiet, but Teresa’s changed a bit. She’s really adapted to jail life fast! She was always crying, but now she smiles a lot and even chats quite a bit. She talks and Nancy listens while the rodent lady does her usual thing – writing and listening to music. They pace a lot too, like Ida used to.

I guess I myself have really adapted to jail life since using the toilet in such an open cell isn’t as hard as it was the last time I was here, though I certainly don’t like it, and I still hate these big cells.

Teresa’s all nervous about court today and Nancy’s all nervous about court on Friday. Today’s Teresa’s preliminary hearing and Nancy gets sentenced on Friday.

I don’t know what Nancy’s in for, but my vibes tell me it’s child-related. That’s also logic telling me that too, because that’s what most Ad-Seg people are in for, and because she’s not willing to discuss it. She said she was a security guard at the courthouse when they arrested her.

In the meantime, as long as they let me sleep, I don’t care if they pace under my nose and talk a lot since I’m down to 47 days. As long as they’re sane and people I feel comfortable with!

Last night I was so beat that I didn’t even hear Teresa leave for court! I didn’t even hear them announce underwear exchange. I slept from about 1 AM – 10 AM and so did Nancy. I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep with both Teresa and Nancy in the room.

I’m on the top bunk. The one Lora was on the last time I was stuck in this damn cell. It’s a bitch getting down from upper bunks in the big cells because there’s no desk close enough to climb on.

On our hour out I swept, mopped and walked. Means was saying she was going to drop the s from her name so she could “B. E. Mean.”

Mary, Myra and Peaches were stunned to see me in here on their hour out. I can’t believe I’m in here myself and that I threw myself in here. Guess that’s just how desperate I was.

The coffee cart came at 10:30 and I got veggie soup and hot chocolate and even shared a few swallows with Nancy. She didn’t ask, either. I offered.

Nancy gave me a commissary sheet with all the prices listed that she got from someone in the dorms. Some of it is written in pen.

We must be having a cool spell out there because the heat was back on again today.

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Teresa’s back from court. They vacated it, which means they simply postponed her court date.

Peaches gave Teresa an empty shampoo bottle, so now she can have a water/juice bottle, too. Peaches can be as sweet and as kind as she can be mean and vindictive.

Johnson’s on now. I told her not to put anyone in here who may come into M Dorm tonight. “OK,” she said.

Then she told me there was a huge article about me on the front page of the Arizona Republic.

How the fuck can such petty bullshit like this make front-page news? This is a letter I was supposed to have written, not people I killed or something like that. Must’ve been some letter the pig created for it to make the front page! What? Did they go and libel me for refusing their interview? I can’t believe it’s perfectly legal for someone to write about someone they don’t even know and publish it! Is the media ever going to forget about me? Or are they always going to treat this like it was a murder case or like I was some celebrity that got in trouble? I don’t see how they can be allowed to write about people without their permission. You need to get someone’s permission to include them in a book.

This is getting blown way out of proportion. Totally out of perspective. Even if I had written I’m going to kill you a million times, it’s just words on paper. Whatever happened to the cliché about actions speaking louder than words?

Johnson wouldn’t get into it with me, saying she remains neutral and that they wrote good things about me.

Oh, really? But they don’t even know me! They never met me! How could they write anything, good or bad, without even knowing me?

It really embarrasses me to know that Johnson of all people read this shit. Words can’t describe just how embarrassed and pissed I was when she came out and told me this shit. I’d rather it be in every newspaper worldwide than in one read by someone that I happen to like and am attracted to. I don’t need her reading about shit that never happened.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m calling Johnson a liar, but nobody’s neutral about anything. Everyone has their opinions about things and she’s got to feel something one way or another.

She let me call Tom, who as always, calmed and reassured me somewhat, but I don’t know. If they haven’t forgotten about me yet, they never will. In 10 years they’ll want to interview me! What’s next? A made-for-TV movie?

How the fuck could this happen??? How can these sick twists be out there living their lives while I, the victim, sit and suffer in this place? And how many more times is the media going to butt into my business and write what they want to write? I realize now that the truth will forever be known only to Tom and I, along with his family, of course. Johnson probably thinks I’m some cold-blooded, prejudiced monster. I just want to curl up and die! It’d be one thing if Mena or Misery told me about this shit, but Johnson! I just want the ground to open up and swallow me up forever! She probably thinks I had to be joking the night I asked for Rosa G as a celly, after the paper no doubt said I hated all blacks and Hispanics. They tried to say that the second batch of freeloaders that lived and partied in that house at our expense was Hispanic, when in fact they were a mix of Hispanic and white. Wouldn’t it shock the shit out of them to know that one of my ex-girlfriends was Mexican and another was half Puerto Rican, half black, even if we only had one-nighters! I won’t bother to mention the Cherokee woman I saw for half a year. That’d probably be too much for them to handle at once. Should I mention Stefan, the black guy I might’ve married when I was 24 if I had been attracted to him? Maybe then they’ll figure out that it isn’t often that I’m even into whites. But Johnson’s an exception. I am attracted to her both inside and out and I could shove that fucking newspaper right up the ass of the person that wrote it so fucking hard it’d come out of their fucking snot holes! I could really slit the throat of the person responsible for doing this shit to me, the fucking scum-sucking asshole! It’s no wonder I hate people so much and have no trust in them and live like a hermit as much as I can. See, the media’s got it all wrong. It’s not the blacks and Hispanics I hate. It’s those fucking Arabs I can’t stand. They have nothing better to do than pick on America and Israel.

And don’t these media people, who obviously think they know me well enough if they thought they could write a front-page article on me, know I have a niece on my side of the family that’s part Mexican and a grandniece on his side of the family that’s part black?