About a month ago 48 Hours Mystery aired a show about Bartin Corbin, a successful, smart and handsome dentist with two kids whose wife was found dead, shot in the head. Georgian authorities assumed it was a suicide. It was found out she was having an online affair with a person she believed to be a man, only to find out later it was actually a woman. As police delved deeper they came across a startling discovery: While in dentistry school, Barton Corbin's girlfriend was also found with a bullet in her head and it was ruled a suicide. He was questioned and released. It would seem he had gotten away with murder twice, but not so... Eventually he confessed and pled guilty to both crimes.
You can learn a bit more about Barton and the case at the links below:
Barton Corbin Link One
Barton Corbin Link Two
You can watch the 48 Hour Show in parts on YouTube. To start you off, here is the first part: [the Synopsis of the case is written out on the CBS, 48 Hour Mystery site under: Love and Lies/Barton Corbin.
Two weeks ago Lifetime Movie Network had an original picture about the Barton Corbin case starring Rob Lowe. Chilling!
So I decide to write to Bart. He just wrote me back.
***
Ms. K*****,
Thank you for my card and letter you recently sent me. I did not receive it until the 19th, if that helps you understand turn-around time with the mail here. We only receive and can mail letters Mondays through Thursdays so I was no able to respond to yours unitl after the weekend. And I go by "Bart". Here they call me "Doc" for obvious reaons. By referring to the "TV Show" I assume that i sthe most recent piece of fiction ascribed to be about me, but there has been so many falsehoods, lies, embellishments, etc. that they would frame Oliver Stone as a credible historian by comparison.
You're right, it is indescribably boring in prison, and that may be its greatest torture from a day to day aspect. Of course, separation from your family and what "true" friends one may have is the worst, especially around special holidays.
I imagine there is no need to describe myself much since you have seen a little about me already. Outward dimensions: 6'3", 205lbs, brown eyes and hair. I'm about to turn 46. I read a lot here and enjoy working out just to keep myself up. We all like eating, but ht efood cures you of the enjoyment of it here; I never understand how a prisoner could stand enough of it here to get over-weight. No club fed here.
How has the real estate market downturn affected your usual business? They say I was in a recession-proof business, but I don't believe there is such a thing. I never made it to New York City, but I had a girlfriend from Rochester a long time ago and I made it though Buffalo on my way to Toronto, if you can believe that. I can't believe I didn't make it over there. I'm sorry you feel sometimes like you're living a cliche there,, but I, too, feel I am living a bad movie about the South sometimes also. I guess this is the inside looking out as opposed to the outside looking in opinion.
I see you're a "published writer" (nice picture) but I hope not to be included in media of any form. I believe I've padi my dues with regard to sensationalism and hope for some relief. I fear its populist effect on any future hopes I may entertain.
Well, I just wished to write you since you wrote me. If you would like to correspond, I would like that too. I am well as can be expected, I guess, and hope you are "holding it down" as they say here. By the time you receive this, I imagine Thanksgiving will be upon us, so I hope you enjoy yours. Wirte soon. This was as quickly as I could respond and the holiday will dlay, I am sure, our next letters. Till then...
P.S. do you like music? I like many forms, but I sitll like my somewhat "old school" rock. I just borrowed a friend's CHICKENFOOT cd (yes, cd :-) ) Ever heard it? Remember my dorm # on all letters. Y2A. It will arrive to me earlier.
Bart
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Letters from the Inside, Michael Swango, #62-64
Ed.: Got three letters from Swango today. Most discuss recent movies and tv shows. I'll be omitting that, but typing passages from all three that I find noteworthy. Probably the thing that is noteworthy to me is that I wrote to him about how I feel Don Draper of Mad Men is a true sociopath. I listed the DSM characteristics of one and Swango (who has also been called one) agrees. I find it interesting that I'm discussing sociopathy with a sociopath.
Dear Kelly,
...
Now to everyone's favorite "classic narcissistic sociopath" --Don Draper. Your analysis is totally correct, in my opinion, and I know quite a lot about this subject, unfortunately... Your quotes from the DSM IV are on-point. And you are right, your friend is wrong: Don Draper has absolutely no remorse. He is only sorry when he is caught.
Is he or she one of those who believe I am (or was, or both) the Devil Incarnate?
KK--it's clear you have studied the subject and know it well. Does that freak out your friends?! The better question is: Have you run across any classic sociopaths in your personal or business interactions?
...
Dear KK (AKA Rachel!), (Chill out, Kelly, it's a joke!)
Glee continues to fascinate...
Hoping to receive one of your scintillating letters when a full mail week begins tomorrow. In the meantime some items to share with you:
...
I'm enclsoing a column by Julia Baird on Letterman and workplace romances/affairs.
So KK-- pray tell, have you ever had any workplace affairs, hookups, or relationships? Within hospitals, I don't need to tell you what goes on...so much sexual tension and so many extra-marital affairs.
I must say, you do meet some unusual folks out there in the dating jungle, Kelly!
Your "Paranormal Activity" date with NoteGuy truly sounds like an episode of SEINFELD! OMG! that habit of acting out things with your hands would get VERY annoying VERY quickly.
And hands fused to arms with no wrists: "Mannequin Hands". How did ten years of Seinfeld miss that gem?!
The handsign for "Going Dutch" would be a finger stuck in a dike/since the guy is screwing his date (moneywise)--- It's the middle finger!
Ok now--what am I missing? In your apartment, you lying in bed all snuggled up in your pink scrubs. Almost every nurse I ever knew started out in bed wearing scrubs...cute, sexy and so much more.
You invite him into bed sans shoes and fall asleep...And you say he is good looking and I assume sexually attractive and I assume you are to him as well...As Chelsea Handler would say, why did thistory not end with multiple penetrations, multiple orgasms, and the tasting of bodily fluids by both of you?
I would say--why were there not loving, powerfully sexual and intimate moments---bringing each other to orgasm, every possible way...in the warmth and heat of that very inviting bed??
Again, sorry to corss your imaginary lines, but you have to admit that your story/date was heading in that direction. C'est la vie... Then again, perhaps (like "man hands") the idea of mannequin hands pawing and caressing one's body was simply too much! Ok. I'll stop now.
***
Finally your extensive two-page blog about "REIDTARD" was savagely funny. Woe be to these men who cross your path! you summed it up perfectly in your final comment, "He is all smoke and a 99 cent mirror." OUCH!!
...
Thanks for the list of paperback books on Bernardo/Homolka. [Ed.: if you don't know about these two sociopathic murderers, Google those two last names. The story is wild and so awful.]
Comments on the whole subject to follow. Here's an idea: Choose one of those paperbacks and buy one for you and another sent to me via Amazon.com---and we can discuss in detail. Remember--this is a long-term project . Will discuss all aspects of their relationship---the sociopathy, possible Stockholm Syndrome, etc. etc.
Will address the "insight" and "windows" & "willing partner" aspects of your letter over the weekend--BUT the above: reading this book together--all out on the table, would be a great way to make a breakthrough.
"OCD Underlining"---Trying too hard to make a letter more like a face-to-face converatoin, with emphasis & relative importance, etc.
Yours,
Michael
Dear Kelly,
...
Now to everyone's favorite "classic narcissistic sociopath" --Don Draper. Your analysis is totally correct, in my opinion, and I know quite a lot about this subject, unfortunately... Your quotes from the DSM IV are on-point. And you are right, your friend is wrong: Don Draper has absolutely no remorse. He is only sorry when he is caught.
Is he or she one of those who believe I am (or was, or both) the Devil Incarnate?
KK--it's clear you have studied the subject and know it well. Does that freak out your friends?! The better question is: Have you run across any classic sociopaths in your personal or business interactions?
...
Dear KK (AKA Rachel!), (Chill out, Kelly, it's a joke!)
Glee continues to fascinate...
Hoping to receive one of your scintillating letters when a full mail week begins tomorrow. In the meantime some items to share with you:
...
I'm enclsoing a column by Julia Baird on Letterman and workplace romances/affairs.
So KK-- pray tell, have you ever had any workplace affairs, hookups, or relationships? Within hospitals, I don't need to tell you what goes on...so much sexual tension and so many extra-marital affairs.
I must say, you do meet some unusual folks out there in the dating jungle, Kelly!
Your "Paranormal Activity" date with NoteGuy truly sounds like an episode of SEINFELD! OMG! that habit of acting out things with your hands would get VERY annoying VERY quickly.
And hands fused to arms with no wrists: "Mannequin Hands". How did ten years of Seinfeld miss that gem?!
The handsign for "Going Dutch" would be a finger stuck in a dike/since the guy is screwing his date (moneywise)--- It's the middle finger!
Ok now--what am I missing? In your apartment, you lying in bed all snuggled up in your pink scrubs. Almost every nurse I ever knew started out in bed wearing scrubs...cute, sexy and so much more.
You invite him into bed sans shoes and fall asleep...And you say he is good looking and I assume sexually attractive and I assume you are to him as well...As Chelsea Handler would say, why did thistory not end with multiple penetrations, multiple orgasms, and the tasting of bodily fluids by both of you?
I would say--why were there not loving, powerfully sexual and intimate moments---bringing each other to orgasm, every possible way...in the warmth and heat of that very inviting bed??
Again, sorry to corss your imaginary lines, but you have to admit that your story/date was heading in that direction. C'est la vie... Then again, perhaps (like "man hands") the idea of mannequin hands pawing and caressing one's body was simply too much! Ok. I'll stop now.
***
Finally your extensive two-page blog about "REIDTARD" was savagely funny. Woe be to these men who cross your path! you summed it up perfectly in your final comment, "He is all smoke and a 99 cent mirror." OUCH!!
...
Thanks for the list of paperback books on Bernardo/Homolka. [Ed.: if you don't know about these two sociopathic murderers, Google those two last names. The story is wild and so awful.]
Comments on the whole subject to follow. Here's an idea: Choose one of those paperbacks and buy one for you and another sent to me via Amazon.com---and we can discuss in detail. Remember--this is a long-term project . Will discuss all aspects of their relationship---the sociopathy, possible Stockholm Syndrome, etc. etc.
Will address the "insight" and "windows" & "willing partner" aspects of your letter over the weekend--BUT the above: reading this book together--all out on the table, would be a great way to make a breakthrough.
"OCD Underlining"---Trying too hard to make a letter more like a face-to-face converatoin, with emphasis & relative importance, etc.
Yours,
Michael
Letters from the Inside, Sarah Pender, #20
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
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 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...!
