Dear Kelly,
Great story, Absinthe- many years ago I read an article in my science magazine about what Absinthe used to be and what it is now (the lighter version). I thought my ex-boyfriend would have loved it. Reading your story CRACKED me up--especially the taxi-cab cigarette incident. Perfect!
A good bathroom stall fucking. Haha. That's what a lot of prison sex is. I shall liken it to Absinthe in my mind next time I'm in population and I hear soft moans coming from the stall next to me.
Still, nothing beats a drunken cigarette incident.
I'm excited to hear how your Christmas and New Year's vacaction goes. I bet the Tokyo fireworks will be fantastic!!! You enjoy such a wonderful adventures in your life.
You travel, enjoy creating food, stories, oral and written have a job you enjoy, live where you want to live, have perfect body, great friends, and yet still, you are depressed often. It shows that no matter your circumstance, good or bad, happiness doesn't depend on that.
What do you think you are missing?
Are you swapping your apt or Stef's?
What was the thrift store item? What were your six words? I'm curious.
So, you haven't dumped NoteGuy for his miming or mannequin wrists?
:)
So, now that you have gone further in the process of Teaching Fellow will you follow through with it? And get your Master in Edu? Or will you go through it all just to experience the process?
You are so talented.
Oh. Well, in news here--we've moved the entire institution. Saturday morning I was fed potatoes and grits followed by a not so friendly strip search , then greeted by a dozen black clad officers, some in bulletproof vests, helmet w/ shield and headsets (what exactly did they think we were going to do?) Who chained us up, put us on a bus designed to transport prisoners. An hour wait and 20 minute police escorted ride later, we arrive. Greeted by dozens of officers, some familar, and other 1WP staff, we are locked in our new rooms. Cold. Bright lights. Hard angles. Unfriendly. Chaos. Confusion. We get fed bologna lunch, dinner, followed by pizza. The Superintendant's gesture for rough day.
Sunday was full of craziness. Lights blaring at 5am. Can't shut off. Guard says it's punishment so we won't come back. One woman, infuriated, demands it off, then rips up her pillow and mattress, stuffs it in her toilet, floods her room and the hall. They put her in a padded room, then strip her room to bare concrete and leave her in there to freeze. (It's 67 in here. Feels like 55.)
Then we got fed more bologna. Some genius takes away everyone's toilet paper. Why? Because we might flood our rooms as well. yet they leave our blankets, clothes, and a dozen other more appropriate things to use to clog a toilet. Duh. More bologna. I get threatened w/ a write up for using sign language to communicate across the hall. More pizza. (2nd day of lockdown). The shower experience was simply weird. We get locked in a cage, with nowhere to put our clothes/towel inside the cage. The shower heads are positioned at 3' and 5' high. WTF? Press the button. Squat for 10 seconds it flows. Stand. Lather. Squat. Press. Rinse. Stand. Etc. The lower nozzle only served to spray my kneecaps. The top nozzle watered my armpits. I manage to get my towel, only to accidently drench myself. When I got out, I tell the guard, "I feel like i've taken a hallucingen, become the protagonist in Gulliver's Travels and I'm in the Land of the Lilliput." She loosk at me weird. I say, "These showers are built for 8-year olds." She answers, "This was a juvenile facility." I say, "Yes, but I haven't been that short since I was like ten. Are all the showers like this? (There were three other cages.) She says, "No but this is the one that the juveniles liked the best."
She put me in the handicapped shower.
Things are better today. Still, I feel like I might have a meltdown. Keep you posted.
Happy Turkey Day!
Sarah
Friday, November 27, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Letters from the Inside, Susan Smith, #4
[Ed.: The last letter I sent to her was in July after I got back from Alaska.]
Dearest Kelly,
No, I have not forgotten you, I've just been lazy when it comes to writing. It's the procrastinator in me :). Please forgive me.
So, how have you been? Thank you so much for the pictures from Alaska and details about your trip. I'm glad you had a good time. Alaska has never peaked my interest. It's not some place i'm dreaming about gonig to. Now, if you mention Hawaii, I"m all for it. I'm a beach girl! Love it!
I hope all is well your way. What about this economy? It's heartbreaking to see so many people without jobs and losing their homes. You still have a job, don't you? I sure hope so.
I've been doing okay. October was a hard month, ut I managed to get through it. Now I have to get through the holidays. They're already playing Christmas music! What's up with that?! It's not even Thanksgiving.
I'm reading a book called Held Hostage. It's a true story about a serial bank robber who gives his life to God. It's really good. The author, Ken Cooper, sent the book to me. That's pretty cool, you know? When I finish the book, I'm going to write him and thank him.
Now much else is going on. My mom & family are all doing well. Write when you can. I enjoy your friendship. You're so cool!
Love you,
Susan
Dearest Kelly,
No, I have not forgotten you, I've just been lazy when it comes to writing. It's the procrastinator in me :). Please forgive me.
So, how have you been? Thank you so much for the pictures from Alaska and details about your trip. I'm glad you had a good time. Alaska has never peaked my interest. It's not some place i'm dreaming about gonig to. Now, if you mention Hawaii, I"m all for it. I'm a beach girl! Love it!
I hope all is well your way. What about this economy? It's heartbreaking to see so many people without jobs and losing their homes. You still have a job, don't you? I sure hope so.
I've been doing okay. October was a hard month, ut I managed to get through it. Now I have to get through the holidays. They're already playing Christmas music! What's up with that?! It's not even Thanksgiving.
I'm reading a book called Held Hostage. It's a true story about a serial bank robber who gives his life to God. It's really good. The author, Ken Cooper, sent the book to me. That's pretty cool, you know? When I finish the book, I'm going to write him and thank him.
Now much else is going on. My mom & family are all doing well. Write when you can. I enjoy your friendship. You're so cool!
Love you,
Susan
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Letters from the Inside, Sarah Pender, #19
Dear Kelly,
It's late and I am awake enjoying late hours. Ah! Quiet...These hours are precious and few. I am slightly annoyed because I'm writing with the ONE pencil I could find after the investigator and sergeant searched through my room. My lead is dull and I'm wishing for the other four pencils I had that he either hid from me as a silly prank, or absconded with as a punishment for being testy with him over an ill-received response. Really, I think they were misplaced, but how can I really lose them in a 9X10 room? I'm perplexed.
SCORE!
Pencils have been recovered. After a grueling interrogation of the Srgt. - she confessed! This lead me to a drawer inside an enveloped box, inside a Colgate toothpaste box, hiding among my colored pencils.! What a disguise.
I am VICTORIOUS!
Man, that's got to be really hard suing someone you once loved (and likely still have feelings for on some level-they don't just go away), but if he wronged you so badly that both a civil and criminal case had to be filed, that hurts. Betrayal is a very hard experience to go through. For most people, it damages your trust in future people who come along, and really feels like you've been violated.
I experienced that in my case. I guess it never occurred to me to tell you about my case. In a nutshell--I met a man (Rick) though a friend at a concert one night whom I had an instant chemistry with, though I left w/o hooking up with him. Oddly, two days later out of a crowd of 20,000 people, I met him again. A few weeks later I vowed to find this guy and get to know him. He was so mysterious and wonderfully funny to me. For two weeks I searched. People who knew him either didn't know or wouldn't' tell me how to get a hold of him. I was more intrigued. Soon after, I was on one last search before I gave up, and I literally picked him up from the side of the highway. I thought it was FATE. We hooked up that night, I brought him back to my apartment and he never left.
Rick was a drug dealer and a thug, albeit a preppy thug. I was willing to accept that, although I set out to change him, especially after experiencing what sort of lifestyle drug dealing brings--and all its problems. Rick was a man I could not say no to, mostly because of the person I am, and partly b/c of how infatuated I was w/him. He talked me into moving out of my apt., getting a house in my name w/Drew and his girlfriend Trish, both fugitives. Drew was his best friend and drug dealing partner and quickly began upping the "game" every week.
While Rick and Drew were getting deeper and deeper into drug dealing, I was working 9 to 5 and begging Rick to quit dealing and get a real job. It worked. He got a part-time job bouncing at a bar, but still sold drugs. This, and many other things, were the source of much tension, arguing, and division among Rick and Drew. They fought about everything, especially when one of them (usually Drew) had been up for a week on meth or cocaine.
Life was becoming ridiculous and I was at my wit's end. Rick promised me it would get better, but it wasn't. After some of their fights, Rich would often threaten to kill Drew. At first, it was alarming, but I soon learned it was just him blowing off steam.
After I began getting threats from the man who raped me six months earlier, Rick used it to get me to buy him a gun, along with his charm. Reluctantly, I fulfilled his request. (He was an ex-felon unable to buy it for himself.) Within 24 hours, another argument erupted between Drew and Rick. I left the house at his behest, and when I returned he had shot Drew and Trish, and had started moving their bodies. For many reasons, I stayed, helped move the bodies, and then watched as he made bad choice after bad choice, knowing he'd get caught. I did not help clean up, I did not help dispose of the bodies or evidence. I just waiting. And when we were arrested, he admitted to shooting Drew during an argument, and they let me go, only to arrest me days later, wanting to scare me into testifying against him. I was honest about what I had done, and they charged me with murder and assisting a criminal.
In the two years we spent in jail, he got scared about life in prison. I supported him, but broke off our relationship, so he turned against me., had a confession letter forged which was used in my trial, and then after I was convicted, grew a conscience, pleaded guilty and admitted he lied, had the letter forged, and provided evidence supporting it, but the judge denied my appeal. After eight years of being denied by the justice system, I escaped.
That's the basic story. It is what it is. Painful as it is.
::Sigh::
What a wonderful event- a Masquerade Ball! I always wanted to go to one of those. You were beautiful! Elegant! FUN!
You crack me up with your pickiness about Note Guy. You ARE a Seinfeld character. Reid with his Ensure. Note Guy w/ no health insurance, no wrists, and his preference for miming words. (Going Dutch seems appropriate, I think.) Frickin hilarious. Where do you find these guys? (Oh yeah, story slams and bars!) Maybe its the writer/artist thing that's the problem. Artists are by nature self-expressed and often weird, though I don't think it affects their wrists.
God, you are funny.
Right now, I am taking all my writings, organizing them into a cohesive structure, so I can start putting together the pieces. It will be nice to get a clearer picture together of the final product. It's exhausting when it comes to difficult and emotional subjects. Wears me out.
Oh! I am going to submit to Reader's Write (The Sun) for PRETENDING, and have on my To Do list an OUR LIVES submission for the NYT. I'll post them when I'm done. Thank you for your encouragement.
--Sarah
It's late and I am awake enjoying late hours. Ah! Quiet...These hours are precious and few. I am slightly annoyed because I'm writing with the ONE pencil I could find after the investigator and sergeant searched through my room. My lead is dull and I'm wishing for the other four pencils I had that he either hid from me as a silly prank, or absconded with as a punishment for being testy with him over an ill-received response. Really, I think they were misplaced, but how can I really lose them in a 9X10 room? I'm perplexed.
SCORE!
Pencils have been recovered. After a grueling interrogation of the Srgt. - she confessed! This lead me to a drawer inside an enveloped box, inside a Colgate toothpaste box, hiding among my colored pencils.! What a disguise.
I am VICTORIOUS!
Man, that's got to be really hard suing someone you once loved (and likely still have feelings for on some level-they don't just go away), but if he wronged you so badly that both a civil and criminal case had to be filed, that hurts. Betrayal is a very hard experience to go through. For most people, it damages your trust in future people who come along, and really feels like you've been violated.
I experienced that in my case. I guess it never occurred to me to tell you about my case. In a nutshell--I met a man (Rick) though a friend at a concert one night whom I had an instant chemistry with, though I left w/o hooking up with him. Oddly, two days later out of a crowd of 20,000 people, I met him again. A few weeks later I vowed to find this guy and get to know him. He was so mysterious and wonderfully funny to me. For two weeks I searched. People who knew him either didn't know or wouldn't' tell me how to get a hold of him. I was more intrigued. Soon after, I was on one last search before I gave up, and I literally picked him up from the side of the highway. I thought it was FATE. We hooked up that night, I brought him back to my apartment and he never left.
Rick was a drug dealer and a thug, albeit a preppy thug. I was willing to accept that, although I set out to change him, especially after experiencing what sort of lifestyle drug dealing brings--and all its problems. Rick was a man I could not say no to, mostly because of the person I am, and partly b/c of how infatuated I was w/him. He talked me into moving out of my apt., getting a house in my name w/Drew and his girlfriend Trish, both fugitives. Drew was his best friend and drug dealing partner and quickly began upping the "game" every week.
While Rick and Drew were getting deeper and deeper into drug dealing, I was working 9 to 5 and begging Rick to quit dealing and get a real job. It worked. He got a part-time job bouncing at a bar, but still sold drugs. This, and many other things, were the source of much tension, arguing, and division among Rick and Drew. They fought about everything, especially when one of them (usually Drew) had been up for a week on meth or cocaine.
Life was becoming ridiculous and I was at my wit's end. Rick promised me it would get better, but it wasn't. After some of their fights, Rich would often threaten to kill Drew. At first, it was alarming, but I soon learned it was just him blowing off steam.
After I began getting threats from the man who raped me six months earlier, Rick used it to get me to buy him a gun, along with his charm. Reluctantly, I fulfilled his request. (He was an ex-felon unable to buy it for himself.) Within 24 hours, another argument erupted between Drew and Rick. I left the house at his behest, and when I returned he had shot Drew and Trish, and had started moving their bodies. For many reasons, I stayed, helped move the bodies, and then watched as he made bad choice after bad choice, knowing he'd get caught. I did not help clean up, I did not help dispose of the bodies or evidence. I just waiting. And when we were arrested, he admitted to shooting Drew during an argument, and they let me go, only to arrest me days later, wanting to scare me into testifying against him. I was honest about what I had done, and they charged me with murder and assisting a criminal.
In the two years we spent in jail, he got scared about life in prison. I supported him, but broke off our relationship, so he turned against me., had a confession letter forged which was used in my trial, and then after I was convicted, grew a conscience, pleaded guilty and admitted he lied, had the letter forged, and provided evidence supporting it, but the judge denied my appeal. After eight years of being denied by the justice system, I escaped.
That's the basic story. It is what it is. Painful as it is.
::Sigh::
What a wonderful event- a Masquerade Ball! I always wanted to go to one of those. You were beautiful! Elegant! FUN!
You crack me up with your pickiness about Note Guy. You ARE a Seinfeld character. Reid with his Ensure. Note Guy w/ no health insurance, no wrists, and his preference for miming words. (Going Dutch seems appropriate, I think.) Frickin hilarious. Where do you find these guys? (Oh yeah, story slams and bars!) Maybe its the writer/artist thing that's the problem. Artists are by nature self-expressed and often weird, though I don't think it affects their wrists.
God, you are funny.
Right now, I am taking all my writings, organizing them into a cohesive structure, so I can start putting together the pieces. It will be nice to get a clearer picture together of the final product. It's exhausting when it comes to difficult and emotional subjects. Wears me out.
Oh! I am going to submit to Reader's Write (The Sun) for PRETENDING, and have on my To Do list an OUR LIVES submission for the NYT. I'll post them when I'm done. Thank you for your encouragement.
--Sarah
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Letters from the Inside, Michael Swango, #61
Ed: Swango's letters are beginning to get more and more cryptic. A few of you picked up on how he wrote that he was now thinking of me in "unusual ways" in his last letter. This one has two very odd sentences. I wrote him back asking for clarification.
Dear KK,
Opens with a classic 1-3-5-7-1 chord progression--forever attached to the quintessential pop ballad...enter the crystal-clear voice of Skeeter Davis:
Why does the sun go on shining
Why does the sea rush to shore
Don't they know it's the end of the world
'Cause you don't love me any more
Why do the birds go on singing
Why do the stars glow above
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when I lost your love
I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything's the same as it was
I can't understand, no, I can't understand
How life goes on the way it does
Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye
Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye
Well my historical-minded friend (but for some reason averse to its discussion?!) -- from my opening you can tell I saw the brilliant #12 episode of Season III of MAD MEN earlier.
But once again, I give you huge insight into who I am, And who I was. -- your choice whether to pick up on it for not...KK, dear, KK...
[Ed.: I find this sort of cryptic but I assume he means he relates to this song because he associates it with KK's suicide. But remember, the book written about him said they found traces of cyanide in her from a slow poisoning.]
Once again, MAD MEN is deadly accurate in time & tone. "END OF THE WORLD" as sung by the unknown Skeeter Davis was a huge hit, and has stood the test of time.
Two other points on the song:
1) A few years ago, I heard a morbid yet fascinating radio discussion on the "death rock" of the early-mid 1960s. In his pop rock/horror novel "Christine", Stephen King called them "Teenage Death Songs": "Teen Angel" / "Dead Man's Curve". One of the participants said "you can almost hear the gunshot as "End of the World" finishes.
Not sure I would go that far--but it is really the perfect personification of PopLove/Love Ends/World Ends.
Listen to the full song--the part where she speaks the third verse over music...
2) This may surprise you: The song has obviously been recorded over the years by many artists. One of the most powerful was in the mid-1970s by Karen Carpenter.
Again here's a window into me. And much more going on here---but can't really discuss without a willing & open partner... [Ed. Am I wrong in thinking this is cryptic?]
***
Kelly, THANK YOU for the Harpers Magazine essay on JG Ballard. You suspected correctly that I would want to read it.
A totally personal and biased opinion: Kelly--you are such a thoughtful and intelligent and giving woman, And very particular and very comfortable with being alone. (I consider that a very good thing, KK). I have no doubt that at some point a man will emerge who can be your equal in those things--and who "gets you". I will say again had I met you in 93 or so--who knows? I certainly would have tried. XOXO/And again, forgive my intrusion into verboten territory, but you deserve a powerful and intense and overwhelming and richly varied sexual relationship with the right man. And I have no doubt that with the right man, you will give totally, completely, unselfishly of your mind and body... Only a man who will do the same is worthy of your sexuality & love...
***
Yes, I know not exactly your standard "Hey how ya doin', seen any good movies?" type of letter. But you do bring out the curiosity and commentary in me, for better or for worse...
Settling down a bit:
>I can well imagine your near-hibernation during the winter, becoming "more and more of a recluse" as you put it. Surrounded by your films & TV and cooking, some letters !! and perhaps--at time carefully chosen friends...
>Have you ever thought you had a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder [SAD]?
Way behind on this letter as usual, but let me start on some of your always scintillating blog entries:
>Your RATE-A-DATE followup to the guy you met while you were with [Ginger Snap] was both informative & analytical.
Wouldn't it be amazing if you could get a "DATEFAX" when you met someone? a love/date/marriage/relationship history? Like a CARFAX when you're thinking about buying a car!
>Kelly, you never cease to amaze me: "Romance" with a 32-yr old when you were 16? You never did anything beyond kissing? Since he was a drug addict probably good. But I mentioned to you, without details of course--heaven forbid--my own experience and "education" with an older woman...
>Your blog analysis of Irene Vilar & Impossible Motherhood was most illuminating. She really does present a problem for "pro-lifers" and "pro-choicers" and those who are somewhat neutral.
She sounds like a reality show waiting to happen.
I do look forward to what you have to say after you read her book, Kelly.
Must get this in the mail, so will further comment on "REIDTARD" (The Final Chapter?), MAD MEN and FLASH FORWARD.
Thinking of you, Kelly. Stay well, stay warm, and stay the way you are... You know you love me, XOXO Gossip Girl...
Yours,
Michael
Dear KK,
Opens with a classic 1-3-5-7-1 chord progression--forever attached to the quintessential pop ballad...enter the crystal-clear voice of Skeeter Davis:
Why does the sun go on shining
Why does the sea rush to shore
Don't they know it's the end of the world
'Cause you don't love me any more
Why do the birds go on singing
Why do the stars glow above
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when I lost your love
I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything's the same as it was
I can't understand, no, I can't understand
How life goes on the way it does
Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye
Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye
Well my historical-minded friend (but for some reason averse to its discussion?!) -- from my opening you can tell I saw the brilliant #12 episode of Season III of MAD MEN earlier.
But once again, I give you huge insight into who I am, And who I was. -- your choice whether to pick up on it for not...KK, dear, KK...
[Ed.: I find this sort of cryptic but I assume he means he relates to this song because he associates it with KK's suicide. But remember, the book written about him said they found traces of cyanide in her from a slow poisoning.]
Once again, MAD MEN is deadly accurate in time & tone. "END OF THE WORLD" as sung by the unknown Skeeter Davis was a huge hit, and has stood the test of time.
Two other points on the song:
1) A few years ago, I heard a morbid yet fascinating radio discussion on the "death rock" of the early-mid 1960s. In his pop rock/horror novel "Christine", Stephen King called them "Teenage Death Songs": "Teen Angel" / "Dead Man's Curve". One of the participants said "you can almost hear the gunshot as "End of the World" finishes.
Not sure I would go that far--but it is really the perfect personification of PopLove/Love Ends/World Ends.
Listen to the full song--the part where she speaks the third verse over music...
2) This may surprise you: The song has obviously been recorded over the years by many artists. One of the most powerful was in the mid-1970s by Karen Carpenter.
Again here's a window into me. And much more going on here---but can't really discuss without a willing & open partner... [Ed. Am I wrong in thinking this is cryptic?]
***
Kelly, THANK YOU for the Harpers Magazine essay on JG Ballard. You suspected correctly that I would want to read it.
A totally personal and biased opinion: Kelly--you are such a thoughtful and intelligent and giving woman, And very particular and very comfortable with being alone. (I consider that a very good thing, KK). I have no doubt that at some point a man will emerge who can be your equal in those things--and who "gets you". I will say again had I met you in 93 or so--who knows? I certainly would have tried. XOXO/And again, forgive my intrusion into verboten territory, but you deserve a powerful and intense and overwhelming and richly varied sexual relationship with the right man. And I have no doubt that with the right man, you will give totally, completely, unselfishly of your mind and body... Only a man who will do the same is worthy of your sexuality & love...
***
Yes, I know not exactly your standard "Hey how ya doin', seen any good movies?" type of letter. But you do bring out the curiosity and commentary in me, for better or for worse...
Settling down a bit:
>I can well imagine your near-hibernation during the winter, becoming "more and more of a recluse" as you put it. Surrounded by your films & TV and cooking, some letters !! and perhaps--at time carefully chosen friends...
>Have you ever thought you had a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder [SAD]?
Way behind on this letter as usual, but let me start on some of your always scintillating blog entries:
>Your RATE-A-DATE followup to the guy you met while you were with [Ginger Snap] was both informative & analytical.
Wouldn't it be amazing if you could get a "DATEFAX" when you met someone? a love/date/marriage/relationship history? Like a CARFAX when you're thinking about buying a car!
>Kelly, you never cease to amaze me: "Romance" with a 32-yr old when you were 16? You never did anything beyond kissing? Since he was a drug addict probably good. But I mentioned to you, without details of course--heaven forbid--my own experience and "education" with an older woman...
>Your blog analysis of Irene Vilar & Impossible Motherhood was most illuminating. She really does present a problem for "pro-lifers" and "pro-choicers" and those who are somewhat neutral.
She sounds like a reality show waiting to happen.
I do look forward to what you have to say after you read her book, Kelly.
Must get this in the mail, so will further comment on "REIDTARD" (The Final Chapter?), MAD MEN and FLASH FORWARD.
Thinking of you, Kelly. Stay well, stay warm, and stay the way you are... You know you love me, XOXO Gossip Girl...
Yours,
Michael
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Letters from the Inside, Michael Swango, #60
Dear KK---
Longer letter in progress/Read with fascination your blog entry regarding Irene Vilar & IMPOSSIBLE MOTHERHOOD. And now she has two children of her own!
Further comments on that and the rest of the blogs to follow. But reading about Ms. Vilar--I thought of the enclosed lengthy article from Newsweek about a month ago. Written following the murder of Dr. Tiller in Wichita...this is the story of Dr. Leroy Carhart and some things even I didn't know about "late-term" abortions.
In Africa, I saw all of the horrendous peripartum complications mentioned on pg. 3 / caused not by draconian abortion ban but by inaccessibility of timely Ob/Gyn care. But the results are the same: Dead & disabled women & newborns.
Not pleasant reading but should be required reading on the subject...
>Also enclosed: A tribute to William Safire. Politically, I really was not in agreement most of the time; but he knew the English language.
Take care, Kelly. Thinking of you in some interesting ways, and hope to hear from you again soon. Will catch up on multiple topics over the weekend. Stay healthy, sunshine.
Yours,
Michael
P.S. Hope you incorporate your eyepatch into any Halloween costumes. Soooo sexy with your raven hair...!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Letters from the Inside, Michael Swango, #59
Is it considered 'meta' when the sociopathic prisoner writes about a sociopathic prisoner?
Dear KK---
My apologies for the delay in getting this letter out to you. The good news is I can comment on your most recent letter received on Friday 10/23. Much to get to so let me dive right in. Order bears no relationship to importance, so stay awake, sunshine!
So you want ot make an investment and get a return over four thousand times the original investment? Make a horror film in your apartment! Over the weekend, that cult horror film, Paranormal Activity was #1. Made for $15K; it has now make over $64m.
[Ed.: omitting more movie talk.]
I know how interested you are in sociopathy, etc. May I suggest you looking closely at a truly fascinating [even to me, KK, and I rarely if ever follow these things.] and almost unbelievable murder case out of Toronto, Canada in the 1990s. To get its flavor, see the LIFETIME film, entitled KARLA. I'm sure it can either be downloaded from LIFETIME or found on NETFLIX or rental. The film stars the girl (now woman) from That 70s Show, Laura Prepon. She is very good, by far the best I've seen her. Prepon plays Karla Homolka, a very attractive young woman who falls in love with a true sociopath--Paul Bernardo, in the late 80s/early 90s around Toronto. Unknown to her, he is a serial rapist, but even when she finds out, she stays totally "loyal" almost (but not quite) to the end. In the interim, she helps him drug and rape her own teenage sister, who dies "accidentally". Later Paul kidnaps two teenage girls, brings them home, rapes & eventually kills them both--with Karla at his side.
The earlier serial rapes and then serial homicides were, as you can imagine HUGE news and media sensation in the 90s over all of Canada--which doesn't see this stuff every day like the Lower 48. Two even more bizarre circumstances took this to the next level:
1) The drugging/rape/death of Karla's sister; and the murders of the two girls were completely or partially on videotape, filmed by Bernardo himself who was a filmaker when he started.
2) Karla cut a deal with prosecutors for a 12 yr sentence--which was the subject of a massive media & public outrage. Because her involvement in all three deaths was believed to be much deeper & more "voluntary" than had been alleged.
3) Now the kicker : some of the videotapes were discovered after Bernardo's trial and after Karla's plea-bargain. OMG! More shock and outrage, etc.
Karla Homolka was released in 06. Haven't heard much since then.
Anyway, sorry I spent so much time on it. Given your vociferous OCD tendencies, you probably know all about it! Talk to me!
[Ed.: omitting more film talk.]
You take care--stay warm and stay well. Thinking of you; you are sooo Rachel as opposed to Quinn. Note: That means much more intriguing, more intelligent, sexier & more passionate & willing ot please.
XOXO,
Michael
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Letters from the Inside, Sarah Pender, #18
Kelly,
Thank you for you letter and enclousures. I wince at all the names people come up wtih for our sexual body parts. Especially women. Men aren't real creative with pussy, cunt, hole, pink... women, however, are a little too creative. Cookie. Bird. Nahnah. Little Girl. PeePee.
Never would I think of Wayne Gretsky.
Of all the Walter Gretskying euphemisms out there...
I did get a printout of my blog. I corrected the mistakes and sent it back out to my mom to fix. I am thankful she even know how to get on teh Internet. Could you help me out a little by organizing it? I see that the entries can be categorized, which would be real helpful. Also, the very beginning should have an intro and a photo, but she doesn't know how to do it. Would you be willing to do that, and give her instructions on how to catergorize future entries? I'd appreciate it.
I enjoy your blogs. I crack up at some of the shit you write. And the words you come up with! Reidtard. I just wrote an entry about my last week free, where I have this killer fling with the hot guy from down the street, and was describing how when we slept together on the couch, in front of the fireplace, we'd shift positions ever 20 minutes or so, in sync, and I remember the NIGHT DANCE. So, I wrote this sentence: "We fall asleep on the couch, in our underwear, firelight dancing across our skin, and spend the remaining hours doing the Night Dance, a term my friend Kelly coined to describe sychronized body repositioning when spooning with a lover."
May I use it? Is it accurately described?
It's nice to get back writing after a long dry spell. Depression just sucks. I knew you'd get it. They gave me Wellbutrin twice a day. It is working in that I feel better, have more energy, and everything doesn't seem so overwhelming. I can concentrate, and I'm not sad anymore. Still not to my perky, usual self, but after ten months stuck in a room, who's goin to be a constant ray of Walter Gretskying sunshine?
When someone needs mental health attention, they put in a medical request. The therapist comes to talk to you, and determines if your issues are serious enough to be forwarded to the psychiatrist. Many people get blown off. People who really need help. Who have major anger or bipolar issues are ignored. It's sad. There are some groups/therapy that people in open population can go to. Those are limited. Often, behavior problems are directly related to mental health, but this place won't focus on preventative medical care. It's all reactive. And all of it is old medicine. No cutting-edge technology/medicine here.
NO, they haven't explained to me about wanting to keep me in lock past my year, except that they "need to know what Sarah Pender is doing every moment of the day." Basically, it's because I am an escape risk based on previously escaping. With that logic, I'd never get out of isolation, which is pretty shitty, since the last woman brought back from escaping managed to avoid capture for 37 years (murder charge) and she spent 4 months in lock and then went into population. (She escaped from 1WP, so they sent her to Rockville, where I was.) Anyway, for some reason, they think I am so incredibly smart, that I can do anything. Like I am a magician. And they can do it, because it's within their discretion.
I don't currently have a lawyer. My last attorney doesn't involve himself in Dept. of Corrections stuff, and I haven't found a new one yet that I can afford. I'm on a limited budget.
No, I don't want to escape again. That stuff is over. If I was so crazy about not wanting to be here, I'd would have either killed myself or made the cops kill me when I was caught. It was a one-time deal, and I'm over it, but they'll always be afraid that I'll escape gain and get another job and not pay my taxes.
I am such a menace to society.
Yes, this a a different prison than the one I escaped from. And we're about to go to another prison next month. But none of that seems to matter really. They are seriously concerned about my risk of escapin, which kills me becaus that speaks VOLUMES about how the prison administration feels about their custody staff. Apparently they don't trust that their security is good enough to babysit me. Or maybe they are afraid that another guard will use me for sex and I'll use him back for things. Sex scandals happen in women's prison's a LOT. More than ever gets reported in the media.
When I craft, I use magazine pages or colored paper salvaged from envelopes sent to me. I can not have paste or glue, so I use toothpaste. You must be creative in order to accomplish anything here.
Commissary is the name of the process in which we order food, hygienes, mailing supplies, etc. Wefill out a Scantron bubble sheet on Monday, get it Friday. Except in lock, we can only order soap, toothpaste, stamps, paper, and cards. They make it hard up here, so people won't want to come back.
You probably already went to court by the time you receive this. I can not imagine what you are suing for, but it apparently has you very upset. Since you are suing, I am sure the defendant has attorneys that are going to attack your character, your story, everything they can to make you wrong and make them right. Try to remember that their power resides in YOU. You give them the right to judge you in your head, so when they start making you wrong, it affects you, hurts you, stresses you. If you remember that the judge, the attorneys, the jurors (if there are any) are all people, just like you, who wear ill-fitting underwear, have hemorroids, get bitched at for not taking out the trash or haven't been laid in a year---or perhaps bought a prostitute last weekend, it makes it easier to get throuhg the proceedings. I didn't understand this stuff til I was in prison a few years, when guards would confide in me, ask my advice, flirt w/me, and eventually, fuck me. We're all the same, all have strenghts & weaknesses and are insecure in one way or another. Don't let their POSITION equal POWER to you.
I look forward to when I can know what you're going through. I hope your day went well.
How do you pronounce "Dinges"? And what's it supposed to be? Glad you got some though!
LOVED the note passing. Too bad he turned out to be substandard for your tastes. Living with his 18-yr old stepsister? Weird for 37 years old. Maybe he let you go dutch to weed out goldiggers. I understand wanting to be w/someone who has more than you, but maybe he feels the same way.
I found something interesting about how you felt you belonged @ Hunter as opposed to Columbia because of your past and your present view of yourself.
Kelly. Do you think that your parent's financial situation determines your value? Do you think that those Columbia students deserve to be there because they had better SAT scores or a parent that donated a rare collection of books? you are smarter, better read and a better writer than most of the 500 other people that that room with you. It is in your head--your place value--therefore you control it.
I do not feel adequate.
I think you have felt this way since you were very young, and have worked the rest of your life living out that conversation. It controls you. And drives you. And depresses you. and is always in the back of your mind.
Is this accurate?
I actually have a friend who heads a student services department at Hunter. From knowing his idiosyncracies, and all the psychological issues by his staff there, I laughed when you described the college. It fits, or rather, he fits. I used to get the Hunter yearbook each year. How funny.
When I was free, I experienced a few really nice things, and although I had the label of being an escapee convicted of double homicide, I never felt out of place. I belonged in that 2007 Cadillac. In the jewelry store buying a diamond ring. In the theater. At a white-cloth restaurant. Just as much as any other human being looking for pleasure of the senses.
Wealth doesn't determine a person's value. Most of the rich guys I know are all a little nutty, and just looking for a pretty piece of ass. The same as a blue-collar schmoe.
I hope this finds you well. I enjoy our letters.
Sarah
