Letters from the Inside, Thomas Bart Whitaker, #13

Dear Kelly,

Howdy. I think thi sone is going to be just for us today, ok? I am feeling like there might be a rant incoming at some point, and I'd rather not have that publicized. How are you? I hope this finds you well. I've had a rather annoying week, and its only Monday afternoon. Not a good sign. Anyways, yes, the prison authorities know about mb6. I have had my typewriter broken, been hit by a shakedown crew with teh same frequency as major confirmed gang members, and had many officers threaten me for what I have written there. (I don't actually think I have ever written anything too damning, but whatever.) I would say that none of them like the fact that for the first time in history, we prisoners have an easily accessible means of parting the curtain for the world to see in. They don't want that. Nobody who wields power arbitrarily wants oversight. Rule of the universe: If someone resists having their work inspected, it means they aren't doing something right. I certainly wasn't showing the site off, but word went around pretty quickly, I guess. Not much they can do about it, thanks to that pesky little thing called the First Amendment.

I am highly annoyed by the circus that I stirred up by posting my stupid psych report. I had hoped that people would find themselves horrified that a state cuold seek and acquire a sentence of death without having ever completed such a review. But nooo! People simply want to gossip. Fucking pathetic. I really do not understand the fear in this country over the issue of gay marrage. WHO FUCKING CARES what someone does in the privacy of their own lives? Are we really so desperate for attention that we have to go around gtting into each others business like this? I think most of this is due to the slow, inevitable death of christianity in this nation. The ignorant masses of the faithful see people unafraid of Yahweh, and they feel slighted, and maybe just a little concerned that all of these people living free of the tyranny of the OT might be right. I wish we could just send them all to Alabama or something and let them in-breed and praise Jeee-suuuus!!! to their hearts content. Sexuality is so much more complicated than the masses think, anyways. I am capable of having a very intense intellectual relationship based on respect and learning with a fay man without suddenly wanting to drag him to bed. I am sexually attracted to women, and that is not going to change just because I work with or associate with people who choose differently. God help you if you say such things in Tejas, though. I once hired a few gay men and women when I was the manager of a restaurant. Even some of my fellow managers wondered about me after that, until they saw that these four people were easily the best staff we had.

No, they don't allow us sleep aids. Not things like Ambien, at any rate. They would be more than happy to put me on Haldol, Prolixin, and/or Thorazine, which would, technically, make me sleep but I'd rather not be a zombie, if its all the same with you. We don't have a staff psychologist, but there is som echick with a masters, I think. Not that she gives a rats ass about us, or even comes around except once every 90 days to ask if we are suicidal. Not--again--because she cares, but to iliminate liability by having the staff take away all your property if you are foolish enough to say "yes." I guess their thinking is that if you dn't have any sheets, you can't hang yourself, and if you don't have any food, you can't...uh...chose yourself to death, or something. It doesn't have to make sense. This is Texas.

The lady who posts stuff to the blog is a friend from north of Sydney, Austalia. Her name is Tracey. Very nice, cool, lady. Very efficient, which is what I was missing before she came on the scene. She just stumbled across the blog, and a monster was born. Muwaha! That was supposed to be evil laughter, by the way. Anyways, she has really gotten involved in the abolition movement, which is pretty rewarding to see. It's nice to think that at least one person has had their consciousness raised by little old me.

Do I have "crushes"? Um, not so much, no. I don't think I'm really the crush type. That said, you don't hand in your manhood when you get locked up. I've had marriage proposals. I've had a stalker or two. I have even met a few girls that I would seriously be interested in, had i met them under different circumstances. I am a realist, though. I dont' know that I am really wried to fall in love from this place. I just...need more than letters and the occassional visit. What could I really offer anyone, you know? I"m broke, so I can't do all the stuff that was normal for me in the freeworld, like surprise dinner dates or a weekend trip to Austin or San Antonio. I can't even promise that I will be here in a few years. Why would I drag someone that I care about down with me? No, I dnt' think I would say a word if I fell in love with someone. Maybe I'm wrong on this. A lot of my neighbors have married during their time here. They seem to enjoy the situation. Secretly, I think they do it so that they have some money coming in each moth, but whatever. That is another thing I couldn't do...I hate living like a welfare case. I'd rather go hungry than to beg.

Hey congratulations for winning the story slam! That had to feel pretty good. You are an interesting lady and certainly have some good stories, so I am sure you will do fine in Oct. at the GrandSlam deal.

I got a chuckle from the "rug breathing" acid story. I haven't dropped acid since high school. Actually, I have a story about that...in my calculus class, there were 5tests, including the final. I had an A going itno the finale so it really dind't matter how I did, so me and some of my idiot friends did acid before school. By the time I go sit for the exam, the floor had turned into water and I'm falling all over myself trying to figureout how to walk like Jesus. A friend later told me that the whole class knew how messed up I was, but I think I pulled it off. Anyways, I love/loved calculus. Which isthe only way I can explain to you what happened: I scored a fucking 98 on my final. I swear to you I was seeing equations in my head. I probably couldn't have done that well sober. Later, I attracked the red light in the photo dark room, which ended a perfectly awesome day at school.

I've heard of Brighton Beach, and about how it is a predominantly Russian enclave. Where is it, compared to some other landmarks I might recognize? I liked the story of finding the bag of booze, though kind of sad how even such a happy day can fade away some quickly. I'm glad I don't have any old photos of past friends. Don't think I could bear to look at them. I guess I'm am about as far from a pack rat as possible. I don't keep much around...a minimallist, I guess. Or maybe I just prefer to live in the now, than in a million moments where I should have acted differently.

Thanks for sending the stamps, by the way, Nice to not have to worry about that so much. Let me know how you are doing. Did you ever get your money from that deadbeat? I hope so.

Be safe, Kelly.

T