Letters from the Inside, Sarah Pender, #68

Kelly,
It's just past 10pm and I am so tired. Been up since 6:30am and been going, going, going. I got a lot done today and one of those things was to conjure up some good ideas. First, I've been pulling out sections of transcripts and documents that will soon get posted on teh web that totally make my case of injustic and prove that Sells is a charlatan, Miller is a liar, and Harmon is a criminal. Also, ti really vindicates me, which I like. While I was going through it, I thought about what other benefits can be had f rom this?

Two things popped up. One, was to get back to writing my memoir and when I did I read my own words with surprise and certain awe. When I am inspired, I write beautifully, and sometimes I can be really funny. I guess it had been so long that I forgot. Maybe if I get back to writing, you'll think more seriously about working on yours. Then, I thought about how you like to read and wondered if you had considered writing book reviews? I did not realize how many people publish book reviews and how important those are to book sales. Then I thought about how I could benefit from your literary and writing interests.

First, I'd like you to write a review on Amazon if that's where you bought the book from. You'd write a good enough one for them to publish and I really look forward to your take on the misogynistic author's portrayal of the people and events. I already know that you won't be duped by the mechanisms used to further their agenda, like framing, lying by omission, wordplay and conjecture. From what I am told, he makes anyone who supports or likes me look like idiots. I promise you, some people I know may not take home a Nobel, but I'd rather have them for friends than those weaselly chumps who have exploited us all. If he was framed for murder, his friends might help pay for a good lawyer, but when that failed you can bet they wouldn't risk themselves to help him escape.

Anyway, regardless of what you think, whether positive or negative I would like someone who I trust to be rather informed and objective to review and point out their self-advertising crap.

Then, I thought about those interviews you write up on real estate. Do you want to do one with me? I, of course, have my own agenda, to get factual information out there in an unbiased avenue, and was wondering if there was anything you wanted to promote about yourself, because if you posted the interview on your blog, I'd link it to my Wikipedia page that has gotten almos 1200 hits in the last 30 days. It's not longor complcated, so the link would stand ou tand be a good continuation of the facts already laid out. It would help me, and anyone who would visit your blog would read some of your other entries and several would become followers. Simply put, you are interesting and write good shit.

Let me know what you think. Oh and when I finally finish my memoir, I'd send you an advance copy and ask you to write a review, and I'll quote part of it on the inside cover page. So far, I have you and three other people who are authors who I'd ask to review mine...funny, I haven't even finished it yet but I am thinking ahead. But right now, I need to be actively combating this negative portrayal of me and get more positive press. I've been doing lots of art projects, so I guess some of those are starting to pop up when going Google searches.

Have you looked at the Hands website lately?

www.holdinghandsforsocialjustice.blogspot.com I forgot to ask Mom how many hands we have so far. Check it out when you get a chance. And don't forget to do a hand! Or else your outline will be all alone and puny.

I'm about to fall over. Can't wait to hear about the Hamptons.

***

I was going through more of m y memoir notes just now. A couple of people told me that there's lot of deatils about my sex life in that book. I don't know, most of it is probably true though from the excepts that I have read, Miller changes the entire context of a relationship with adjectives and adverbs. I know from some of the articles, they describe Tom as a sex-addict, but that's not true. Sex addiction is real but it is rare. True sex addicts must have it just to get thru the day, just like heroin, and they no longer enjoy sex. If a person really, really likes sex they are not a sex addict. However, Tom was an aficionado of women. Really, it was m ore like an obsession with women that stemmed from a psychological relationship with his mother.

I'll write here some of my first draft material regarding Tom and me, so that you can get a good idea about one facet of our relationship. Basically, I was his mistress and we had an agreement not quite as strict as a business contract, but it was a relationship where my freedom of choice was an illusion. I did what I had to do or else Tom might get bored and walk away or worse, turn me in. Telling him no was something I could not do often, only in severe cases and even then I had to manuever those carefully.

I believe Tom's obsession with sex had more to do with hatred of women rather than a love for them. Where he was ever-inferior to his mother, he could claim his superiority to women. By the age of 53 he could claim he had slept with hundreds. I don't doubt his estimates. Either thru business or durin ghis excursions with like-minded male chauvenist friends he'd meet women he could quickly woo into a hotel bed without having a forwarding address. Others he simply paid.

I have caught glimpes of Tom in wooing action, watching him use his wit and charm and bedroom eyes to treat women like cattle. He'd go dick-swinging into a strip club, size up the flesh he wanted and then find her price tag. I hae seen that fixed stare once he looked into his prey, salivating himself into dehydration before going in for the kill.

Comparatively I was a bargain. But beingwith me was not enough for Tom. He always wanted something more, newer, better. Sometimes pornography sated his desires, so we invested in a handful of films. I think they fed his tally of dominating women even if on-screen. While he, of course, picked Big Boobed Blondes and Super Cum Shots, I chose gay porn. Girl on girl. Guy on guy.

I stacked the DVD cases on top. "Tom, we get a fifth one free. What kind do you want?"
"Fisting."
My eyes tear away from the elephant-sized black cock and settled on Tom. "Do not, for even one second, think that's going to happen."

His middle finger stood up.
I smiled.
He put up two fingers and raised his brows.
"Exactly," I said.
He added a third.
"Maybe."

And a fourth.
My eyes rolled away from him and back to the big butts. I snapped up a plastic case and Tom asked, "Is that what your prison bitch looked like??

I pointed to another photo and said, "No, more like her."

He scoffed. "You are such a fucking dyke."

"Yeah. So that means you are lucky that I suck on your geriatric nutsack."

***

Side by side we laid on a sagging bed in another non-descript motel room, watching John Walsh's dramatic re-enactment of my so-called crime and escape. Fragmented "facts" painted a Picassoesque picture of blurry lines and illogical placements. I kept quiet except for an occassional "Oh, please!" as they showed US Marshalls doggedly chasing after me. Yet remaining one step behind me as I changed my hair color and style to elude them, slipping out of a safehouse at 3am as they banged down the front door with a search warrant, leaving a trace of my perfurm to taunt them with their inadequacy.

I used to get worked oup about the court and media's constant manipulation of "facts" and generation of "evidence", but at some point I had to stop allowing their stories to dictate my emotions. They aren't real. Just because you say that the sky is green does not make it so, and at what point do I stop defending its blueness and let the absurdity go?

Tom clicked the remote and the TV went black. "Well, what do you think?"

I exhaled sharply. "Well..." I bit m y lower lip in concentration. "I think they could have hired a much prettier girl to play me."
"Come on Ashley, be serious."

"About what, Tom? It's obvious that these peole dont' have a clue. They are chasing a ghost. It's only fegitting because the Sarah Pender they are after is a storybook version of who I am!"

He loudly shushed m e and truned his eyes towards the wall behind us. "Don't talk so loud."

After the AMW episode Tom felt that I needed to yet again cut my hair (it was already well above my shoulders) and dye it blonde.

"It's the only color they didn't morph you into." HIs hand hovered just above his bald spot. "And super short, like a dyke."

I didn't understand why he called me a dyke to insult me and then systematically asked me to become one. Gain weight. Short hair. Layered, non-revealing clothes. I wasn't sure if his goal was to make me unattractive to other men or to have me play out the role for his own egotisitical purposes. What greater conquest than to dominate a dyke?

Of course the next day I granted his wish.

I don't know if this helps you at all, but I wanted to share some of our interactions and some of my first draft writing taken from about five little blurbs I had writtten when randomly inspired. Of course, there are loving interactions between us, intellectually stimulating conversation and so on. But I wanted to know, after you read the book, what do you think about the writing style and characterization of Tom in mine versus the book and just in general what you think about my writing. Remember this is first draft stuff. I know it is not a long excerpt but I get tried of writing hours with a dull pencil.

Most of the material i have written goes into depth about what has shaped me into who I am, reveals motivations behind different characters' actions and has vivid dialogue, botgh serious and fun. I try not to be sexusally explicit but because our relationship was rooted in sex, I have to breach the subject. I could write a book called, "Sexploited," but prefer not t use sex to sell my story of injustice.

I'll close here. Write soon.

--Sarah