Please check out some of Ani's latest drawings at his companion blog - www.banishedart.blogspot.com
His work was also mentioned by Trace DeMeyer in her blog -
www.splitfeathers.blogspot.com
Happy Holidays to everyone.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Back in Segregation for an "Investigation"
Ani wants to write more soon as he can. He has been put back in segregation, whisked off his job, jerked into the confines of solitary. This is what I emailed to his attorney a week ago:
"...when I went to visit Ani today, I found he had been taken off his job in the kitchen this morning and sent to segregation for "investigation" of the circumstances around a piece of paper he was handed while getting dressed for work on Friday. I had an hour of camera visit with him. It took an hour of going over the facts with him for them to be more clear in his head so he understood more clearly the situation and what was being investigated. I hope he won't be found guilty of anything as I don't see anything he did, but the paper, which he says was handed to him but he didn't read and threw away, was apparently about payment for smuggling intoxicants in. He doesn't know anything about it but apparently it fell out of someone's pocket or shoe in the changing room and his friend picked it up and handed it to him and asked him if it was his. He says he didn't open it, but handed it back and said it wasn't his. They apparently have this all on camera, so we'll see what they make of it. If the correctional staff had even a little training on how to deal with inmates with FASD, they could be so much more effective."
So, I didn't hear anything from him for a week. When I visited him again today through the camera, I found him depressed. He said he had not heard a thing from anyone about why they are keeping him there or if they plan to charge him with anything. He said he had been sleeping a lot. He was noticeable more cheerful by the time I left. I'm glad that I can have that effect on him. It is tough to see how much power they have in a place like that to come right into their lives and put them in solitary confinement and how often they do it - at least to him. I can certainly understand how simply that act of assertion of power over your life can be very demoralizing. It reminds me of how often that was done to him as a young child - taken out of the home he was in and whisked away out of the blue one day, never to see these people again.
I have hopes that he will soon be out and they will give him his job back. He had been enjoying being back in the kitchen, making jokes all day long, and creating smiles wherever he goes. I sure miss his daily phone calls and the visits in the visiting room. Visiting by camera is surely not the same thing.
Ani said he plans to write another post soon to his blog.
Jackie
"...when I went to visit Ani today, I found he had been taken off his job in the kitchen this morning and sent to segregation for "investigation" of the circumstances around a piece of paper he was handed while getting dressed for work on Friday. I had an hour of camera visit with him. It took an hour of going over the facts with him for them to be more clear in his head so he understood more clearly the situation and what was being investigated. I hope he won't be found guilty of anything as I don't see anything he did, but the paper, which he says was handed to him but he didn't read and threw away, was apparently about payment for smuggling intoxicants in. He doesn't know anything about it but apparently it fell out of someone's pocket or shoe in the changing room and his friend picked it up and handed it to him and asked him if it was his. He says he didn't open it, but handed it back and said it wasn't his. They apparently have this all on camera, so we'll see what they make of it. If the correctional staff had even a little training on how to deal with inmates with FASD, they could be so much more effective."
So, I didn't hear anything from him for a week. When I visited him again today through the camera, I found him depressed. He said he had not heard a thing from anyone about why they are keeping him there or if they plan to charge him with anything. He said he had been sleeping a lot. He was noticeable more cheerful by the time I left. I'm glad that I can have that effect on him. It is tough to see how much power they have in a place like that to come right into their lives and put them in solitary confinement and how often they do it - at least to him. I can certainly understand how simply that act of assertion of power over your life can be very demoralizing. It reminds me of how often that was done to him as a young child - taken out of the home he was in and whisked away out of the blue one day, never to see these people again.
I have hopes that he will soon be out and they will give him his job back. He had been enjoying being back in the kitchen, making jokes all day long, and creating smiles wherever he goes. I sure miss his daily phone calls and the visits in the visiting room. Visiting by camera is surely not the same thing.
Ani said he plans to write another post soon to his blog.
Jackie
Sunday, October 20, 2013
2013 - BACK TO SEGREGATION FOR 90 DAYS, MORE ARTWORK, LEGAL WORK, AND BACK TO WORK IN THE KITCHEN
2013 –
Ani has been busy. He asked me to put some of what he wrote in letters to me from segregation on his blog. First, I think I need to give the reader a little background. In early March, 2013, he was getting used to his promotion from his job in the kitchen to a maintenance crew and anticipating the “4 rating” pay from 24 cents an hour to 42 cents an hour that accompanied the new job. All of a sudden I found him back in segregation. This is always an anxiety-provoking discovery for me. Sometimes he has just done something stupid - which is bad enough - and pays the price himself, but sometimes his bad decisions turn into really awful consequences for not only himself but others too. This time it was amazingly neither one.
My first goal was to find out what happened, but it is always difficult to find out what happened from Ani. His memory of events is stored in a jumbled way, full of holes and neither sequential nor connected. So his memory of “what happened” often doesn’t stick together in any way that makes sense to him or to others. Until we figured out that his brain was causing the problem, his accounts of things he experienced could sound like the worst lies you ever heard and my frustration with his crazy stories and his anxiety over not being able to answer questions often turned into some nasty arguments. This time, things were a bit easier as Ani had found himself in a seg unit near to a friend – a native brother. While in segregation, inmates are rarely taken out of their cells – and if they are taken out they are shackled hands and feet. However they do get one hour of outside “rec” a day. This consists of being put into a small individual wire cage. Each inmate is in his own cage, but the cages are in a row so it is possible to have a conversation with another inmate during this time which is how Ani came to be able to talk to someone. Ani’s friend also happened to be a self-taught legal specialist in institutional policies and procedures which is a sort of career someone can take up in the institution. Thus, his friend helped him to sort through his memory of the recent events by listening and being patient and interested enough to hear them over and over until the two of them had put the events together in a sequenced chain and discussed the connections between them. It is only because of this patient friend and their conversations through the cage walls that Ani could tell me what happened in a way that gave me a somewhat coherent picture and so I can now recount to you what Ani told me.
On the day he was put into segregation, the institution staged a surprise institution-wide “sweep search” of cells to look for contraband. Ani said that a search this big had not been done in the 11 years he had been at WCI. Since a search this size required more man/womanpower than the institution was able to support, they brought in new recruits to help out with the job. First thing in the morning, Ani was taken out of his cell and chained to the railing right outside his cell. He watched as two recruits searched his cell and found several non-punishable items which they confiscated. They gave him a paper listing what they had taken and told him to sign it. They then put him back into his cell and went on to the next. Later that day, someone came to get him and took him to segregation. When he asked what he had done, he was told they had found contraband in his cell. He was puzzled about what it was since he had seen what they had taken before and nothing on the list was a punishable offense. Several days later, he received his “ticket” which included a list of the items that were supposedly found in his cell. The ticked was signed by an officer who he knew and who was not there when his cell was searched. Ani has sent me the ticket and it says they found 10 porn pictures, 2 strikers (paper clips which are used to short circuit an electric cord and heat water), and 27 matches. Ani says none of those things were his and he did not have any of them in his cell. He says he thinks that in the confusion of such a large search things got mixed up.
Ani had only been in segregation about 10 days and was planning to contest his first ticket when he got a second ticket. This ticket was for possession of a credit card. The ticket said that he had written the numbers of his bank account debit card on a donation card for the Disabled American Veterans when attempting to give them a donation of $10. Possession of money in the institution is another contraband offense. Ani contested both tickets but was found guilty and received 90 days in segregation as punishment for them. He decided to appeal both tickets. This can be quite a lengthy and somewhat expensive process even when done pro se (without an attorney). You have to appeal up the chain of command within the Department of Corrections and then if that is not successful, you have to pay to file a Writ of Certiorari in a Circuit Court. Ani also has had to pay for a sheriff to serve the papers to the Warden. I know nothing about these things, but Ani has been helped by inmates who know how to do these things and by books he bought that explain the rights of inmates and how to do this. I have helped him by making copies of documents and then mailing them to the Circuit Court and then delivering them to the Sheriff’s office. Little things like finding out the correct address with a phone call or writing a check (I have POA on his bank account and can transfer money to myself to pay me back), make this something that almost requires that an inmate have someone on the outside to help. I have also helped by listening to his plan and then reminding him from time to time of what he said he wanted to do next, just to keep him on track. This will likely take at least 6 months of filing papers and writing briefs so it is on-going.
Doing this, and keeping the details of what he needs to do straight in his head, is very taxing for Ani and uses up much of his mental energy. He got out of segregation in June and had to wait 3 months before he could get a job again. At the end of September he started back in the kitchen and now he has to get up at 4 AM every other day. He has managed to do several new drawings during this time which will soon be posted on his other blog, “Banished Art.” He wants to start to sell some of his work on E-Bay so we are trying to figure out how to do that.
Now that you have some of the background, I will post below selections from letters he wrote to me during this time.
Ani has been busy. He asked me to put some of what he wrote in letters to me from segregation on his blog. First, I think I need to give the reader a little background. In early March, 2013, he was getting used to his promotion from his job in the kitchen to a maintenance crew and anticipating the “4 rating” pay from 24 cents an hour to 42 cents an hour that accompanied the new job. All of a sudden I found him back in segregation. This is always an anxiety-provoking discovery for me. Sometimes he has just done something stupid - which is bad enough - and pays the price himself, but sometimes his bad decisions turn into really awful consequences for not only himself but others too. This time it was amazingly neither one.
My first goal was to find out what happened, but it is always difficult to find out what happened from Ani. His memory of events is stored in a jumbled way, full of holes and neither sequential nor connected. So his memory of “what happened” often doesn’t stick together in any way that makes sense to him or to others. Until we figured out that his brain was causing the problem, his accounts of things he experienced could sound like the worst lies you ever heard and my frustration with his crazy stories and his anxiety over not being able to answer questions often turned into some nasty arguments. This time, things were a bit easier as Ani had found himself in a seg unit near to a friend – a native brother. While in segregation, inmates are rarely taken out of their cells – and if they are taken out they are shackled hands and feet. However they do get one hour of outside “rec” a day. This consists of being put into a small individual wire cage. Each inmate is in his own cage, but the cages are in a row so it is possible to have a conversation with another inmate during this time which is how Ani came to be able to talk to someone. Ani’s friend also happened to be a self-taught legal specialist in institutional policies and procedures which is a sort of career someone can take up in the institution. Thus, his friend helped him to sort through his memory of the recent events by listening and being patient and interested enough to hear them over and over until the two of them had put the events together in a sequenced chain and discussed the connections between them. It is only because of this patient friend and their conversations through the cage walls that Ani could tell me what happened in a way that gave me a somewhat coherent picture and so I can now recount to you what Ani told me.
On the day he was put into segregation, the institution staged a surprise institution-wide “sweep search” of cells to look for contraband. Ani said that a search this big had not been done in the 11 years he had been at WCI. Since a search this size required more man/womanpower than the institution was able to support, they brought in new recruits to help out with the job. First thing in the morning, Ani was taken out of his cell and chained to the railing right outside his cell. He watched as two recruits searched his cell and found several non-punishable items which they confiscated. They gave him a paper listing what they had taken and told him to sign it. They then put him back into his cell and went on to the next. Later that day, someone came to get him and took him to segregation. When he asked what he had done, he was told they had found contraband in his cell. He was puzzled about what it was since he had seen what they had taken before and nothing on the list was a punishable offense. Several days later, he received his “ticket” which included a list of the items that were supposedly found in his cell. The ticked was signed by an officer who he knew and who was not there when his cell was searched. Ani has sent me the ticket and it says they found 10 porn pictures, 2 strikers (paper clips which are used to short circuit an electric cord and heat water), and 27 matches. Ani says none of those things were his and he did not have any of them in his cell. He says he thinks that in the confusion of such a large search things got mixed up.
Ani had only been in segregation about 10 days and was planning to contest his first ticket when he got a second ticket. This ticket was for possession of a credit card. The ticket said that he had written the numbers of his bank account debit card on a donation card for the Disabled American Veterans when attempting to give them a donation of $10. Possession of money in the institution is another contraband offense. Ani contested both tickets but was found guilty and received 90 days in segregation as punishment for them. He decided to appeal both tickets. This can be quite a lengthy and somewhat expensive process even when done pro se (without an attorney). You have to appeal up the chain of command within the Department of Corrections and then if that is not successful, you have to pay to file a Writ of Certiorari in a Circuit Court. Ani also has had to pay for a sheriff to serve the papers to the Warden. I know nothing about these things, but Ani has been helped by inmates who know how to do these things and by books he bought that explain the rights of inmates and how to do this. I have helped him by making copies of documents and then mailing them to the Circuit Court and then delivering them to the Sheriff’s office. Little things like finding out the correct address with a phone call or writing a check (I have POA on his bank account and can transfer money to myself to pay me back), make this something that almost requires that an inmate have someone on the outside to help. I have also helped by listening to his plan and then reminding him from time to time of what he said he wanted to do next, just to keep him on track. This will likely take at least 6 months of filing papers and writing briefs so it is on-going.
Doing this, and keeping the details of what he needs to do straight in his head, is very taxing for Ani and uses up much of his mental energy. He got out of segregation in June and had to wait 3 months before he could get a job again. At the end of September he started back in the kitchen and now he has to get up at 4 AM every other day. He has managed to do several new drawings during this time which will soon be posted on his other blog, “Banished Art.” He wants to start to sell some of his work on E-Bay so we are trying to figure out how to do that.
Now that you have some of the background, I will post below selections from letters he wrote to me during this time.
ANI GOES TO SEGREGATION AND APPEALS HIS TICKETS
3-22-2013 -
“I just spent $20 to get 131 pages of copies: The 303, “The Prisoners Guide to Prison Discipline” and “The Prisoner’s Guide to the Inmate Complaint Review System (I.C.R.S)”. The last 2 are from L.A.I.P. and it occurs to me that I probably could have just written them directly requesting those two manuals and saved myself about $17-$18. Hmmm, maybe next time. Its shit like that – thinking about stuff after the fact – that drives me batty. (er) :>p Whatever. So I did all that and watched the streetlights on the other side of the wall click on. Weird, eh? It’s Med Time so it must be after 8 pm. I took a banging nap this afternoon (11:30ish – 3:00ish) but I feel myself getting all yawny. But it was a big day – seg-wise, lots of interesting stuff. Visits and recreatings. [He had a visit from me and a conversation with his friend when out in the cage for an hour during “recreation.”] So let me tell you about “el”. His name is W.H., but I call him Willy. He’s a Native, but there’s been some people who whisper gossipy crap questioning his ‘blood.’ I’m not the type to usually question heritage since so much shit can go wrong with a person's…’paperwork’ I guess you’d call it. If I ever do question someone’s claim its because there are other problems with that specific person. I’m not immune to the more paranoid members of this band of Lake Michigan Paranoid Indians who always think that the administration is constantly trying to infiltrate and plant a stoolie in our midst. Generally, though I’m pretty accepting of most people. And every ‘skin whose opinion I trust is fine with El’s pedigree. But that has nothing to do with anything with the story I’m trying to tell.
Apparently several years ago while El was a pass warner he got implicated in some scandal involving a C.O. that was supposedly bringing in porn, tobacco, a cell phone, etc. So he got dragged into that mess – it was about the time I was a tutor. I remember because I went to night rec with him, Sun-dog, Jughead Pat, and Blacktooth Grin. (Don’t we have the best nicknames!?) So all us natives went to rec and it was shortly after that time that all this scandalous shit took place. So he’s been in the grip since then. First he did his time on his ticket and then they stuck him on A.C. [Administrative Confinement] and then they started writing one bogus c/r [conduct report] after another. So I haven’t seen him in some time and it was nice to talk to him and give him some news. He figures he’s got another 5 years up on this hill [in segregation] before he goes back to general population. What really bothers me about this is that what really screwed him isn’t that he was involved but that he wouldn’t name names. I’ve always believed that another man’s business is his business and if it doesn’t involve me then its none of my business. I respect a “stand up convict,” a person who can hold his mud. But there are Powers that Be that tend to get a little bit shitty when you don’t give them the information they think they have some right to. So I give El the respect for doing the right things and doing what needs to be done. But that’s how the game is played. We do dirt – they do dirt. It’s a zero sum game though, but that’s never really factored much into the equation. I’ve always wondered which world I had more respect for and I’m not sure I’m any closer to figuring out the answer than I was 20 years ago. I mean looking at either side you’re not going to find shining exemplars of humanity. Oh well. The bible says that after Cain slew Able Gawd marked Cain so that everyone he met knew Cain’s crime. My guess is that he made him wear green. And how do we know that this Able feller didn’t need killin’? So many questions.
2 days later…
“Another day shot in the butt and sent on its way. I got a new pen, my old one was acting up so I got a new one. See what I do to things that act up? ;) Har de har har. It snowed today – grainy little flakes, winds from the east. Must have snowed for 3-4 hours but no accumulation. Why bother if you’re not going to leave a mark of your passing? I found out from talking to El at rec on Friday that its been taking about 30 days to get a copy of the decision which seems to me to be not only over long but a bit calculated, too. Sort of a big ol’ ‘f-you’ to us people that have to sit in segregation. I have a theory that Waupun is using its segregation as a de facto housing unit rather than solely as a segregation unit. Meaning, that if suddenly a wave of rule abiding swept this place that there wouldn’t be 180 beds in general population. Which of course means that the administration needs to keep this place stocked with people. That would also serve to show how ‘dangerous’ and poorly behaved prisons and prisoners were. I don’t know. To be sure there are people here that have earned their way here being violent. I think that since Wisconsin was settled by a lot of order and discipline loving Germans that some how that need to impose rigidity and punishment seeped into our culture. Whatever.
From time to time I ponder trying to learn the law. I’m amazed by people who know it. Usually people who know it are some what condescending to those who don’t know the law; dispensing their “wisdom” and advice like they were the only ones who had the real insight and keys to freedom. But then I look at these paragons of knowledge and they’re invariably lifers or have been locked up for 20 or 30 years and I think, “like I’m going to take advice from some loser like you whos been locked up since the discovery of fire.” I don’t think so, then again I’m sure that knowing the law has helped a lot of people that really had no hope. I’m just not sure that my brain is made for the law. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I look at a citations and its gibberish, jargon, jabberwocky: “State ex rel. Anderson El 11 v. Cooke, 2000 WI 40,234 WIS 2d 626, 610 N.W. 2d 821” What the f- does that mean? I ask people that profess to know the law and they act like it either obvious or that they really don’t know. All I know is that it is the key to a lot of arcane powerful knowledge. I’ve got to know what it means.
DAYS PASS BY IN SEGRETATION AT WAUPUN CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION
3-2-3013 [Right after being put in segregation.]
"I'm trying to be positive but its not easy. I think that this little world that's been created inside of this prison has finally begun to wear me down - makes me want to quit.... It's funny but I think that the only way I feel alive is when I'm risking death or utter disaster. You'd think I have a deathwish but I don't - I want to live for ever. I love life - I love this world. I want to ride every ride, watch every movie, play every game. I love the variety and creativity of living and can't wait to see what's next around the corner. ...what I think happened is that somehow in the confusion of the lockdown that something got mixed up. So I soldier on. It seems like another round in an endless game of 'Gotcha'. ... I don't think I can 'prove' that I didn't have any contraband. ... What's weird is that this whole mess feels the same when I'm innocent than when I'm guilty. These people f__ up too. They make mistakes but when they do the bureaucracy - the Machine - it covers up for them insulating them from any consequences from their misdeeds. ... I wanted you to know that I didn't have any contraband, but the weirdest thing is that that fact doesn't matter here. I get treated just the same. Yeah, that really bothers me. I know that it goes with the territory but that knowledge gives me no comfort. Anyways enough bitchin' and moanin'. For the duration of this lockdown they've given us bag meals for breakfast and dinner, and a hot meal for lunch. It's been a steady diet of PB&J, cold cuts and apples and oranges. Today was the first bag meal that didn't have bolgna or Salami as the cold cut; today was turkey-ham."
3-4-13
"I had forgotten what it's like to be in seg - the land of the lost. I've heard countless pointless conversations about stupid shit. Drives me nuts. I have no earplugs so I can't block out the voices. Oh well. ... I'm trying to go through all the possible ways that the hearing officer can possibly find me guilty. My greatest fear is that he simply says that due to the 'lockdown' he'll allow the C.O. to write a bogus c/r. Or that he'll let her offer testimony on the behalf of CO "x" and CO "y", which is not usually allowed. Cuz I know the C.O. will say, 'no, I didn't search his cell - officer x and officer y did and I believe that they did recover the contraband from his cell and I believe them to be truthful.'
...it's not enough for my pride to simply prove my innocence - I want to deliver an eye poke and beat them with the stick they were going to use on me. It occurs to me that arrogance and pride will one day lead to my demise. One of the things you come to see as an inmate is how the employees of the DOC both overtly and subtly look down on you. I see it and I resent the hell out of it. I don't need to be judged by people that know nothing about me or my personal history. Now I know that not everyone employed by the DOC thinks that way - to some people that type of thinking is alien, abhorrent. Yet there is a very numerous powerful cadre who do think like that and aren't shy about showing it. It's like knowing that not everyone locked up is a 'career criminal', some are victims of circumstance - people who simply, at the worst possible times, made the worst possible choice."
4-30-13 [Ani is still in segregation but has moved up a level and now gets his TV and property. These are selections from his letters.]
"I know it’s not so much morning as it is afternoon (its 3 pm) but I just awoke a little while ago. I flossed, washed, braided, injested and excreted so I’m ready for the day. I did go to legal rec this morning so I don’t feel like an utter and complete slug. I also spent some time perusing my purchases from Hamilton [Books] that arrived today. Somehow looking at what I buy seems less fun than the “act” of buying them. Does that make any sense at all? It seems crazy; the wanting is better than the having. The two art books I bought were crappy and not what I thought they’d be; if I had saw them prior to purchase I probably would have passed. But they were worth $7, so I don’t know if I feel that I misspent $14. Then again- given the choice I probably would have spent that money on some other books. It’s not like I would have saved $14. ;0 Ha. ~~ I ate din-din (tater tot casserole. Yum! :P) and read my paper then planned my nights viewing."
5-2-13
"May already – time seems to disappear quicker as I age. Time on my first bit dragged while the last 11+ years pretty much sprinted by me. Weird doppler effect. ~ Ive been reading my Prisoner’s self help litigation Manual. Man, the law is pretty complicated. And there are no “easy” sentences in it. Its going to take me a long time to understand what I'm reading. Yet, I got nuthin’ better to do than read and reread this thing until I got it down cold. I think an hour a day is a good place to begin. Yesterday I got motivated and worked out. Did 108 pushups 8 sets. Woulda, coulda, shoulda done more but I stopped at 7 pm. Survivor was on y’know."
5-7-13
"It’s 11:30 pm and I’m switching between watching Zooey Deschannel on Letterman and Lauren Graham on Leno. I thought I’d give you a few minutes since I’m not too tired, getting there though. I stayed up rather late yesterday listening to my radio program. I’m getting too old for this. Not only is the music changing stylistically so much that it doesn’t sound like what was called heavy metal back when I grew up. That's not to say that I don’t like it, yet one band doesn’t sound all that much different than the next one. Not to mention that I used to spend way more time paying attention to what was going on musically. Nowadays I pretty much listen to what’s on commercial radio which is way different than what's being played on the “college” or “community” stations. Now it's the latter stations where trends are made; corporations rule the commercial airwaves. But what really wears me down is the fact that what I listen to only airs from 11pm – 2 am and 12 am – 1 am. I've been on “seg time” (early to bed; early to rise. A.k.a. Farmer time) since the last time I was on the hill. It worked out to my advantage when I had to get up early for food circus."
5-9-13
"See, I got this new fancy printwheel and I’m simply unable to contain my GLEE at having something new to play with. So now you get this typed letter. I know it’s not as personal as handwriting, but you’re a tough cookie and I think you’ll be fine. I used to hate when someone would say shit like that to me, “you’re a big boy, you can handle it.” Now I play it forward and say it when I’M the one doing the shitty thing. See how that works? And they say I don’t learn. Ha! I’m not the only person that has ever learned THAT lesson.
There’s still time. No one won the Powerball. Might be 300 million. I’m just saying.
The calendar is cool. I like all the room I got to write things. And its so big that it can’t hide from me. Sometimes my planner hides and makes me go on a hunt; thinks that’s funny. “Hey! Lets make the fat indian go nuts. Woooh-hooo!” Good times. The only thing I don’t like is that they give me all the holidays for both Mexico and the Canada, as well as the U.S. If I wanted to know Mexican Mother’s Day is on May 10 then I would have been born Mexican. But I’m not.
So ICI finally got around to REJECTING my complaint. No real surprise there. So I’ll go through the motions and file an appeal with the ARA and then it's court time. Now the rubber is gonna meet the road. I’m also going to drop another letter to El, and see what he has got to say. He thought a rejection would be in my best interest as far as time was concerned. They’ll do what they can to avoid the issues.
Time to get busy."
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
"The Walking Dead" by Mess'rs Kirkman, Adlard and Rathburn: A Book Review
Now these people know how a corpse should behave. This is actually the second compendium of awesome zombie rotten-ness. I admit that this series of graphic novels took a while to click with me. I initially didn't like Adlards art which I now view as nothing short of epic, and the premise I thought was a bit video-game inspired and an not good way. I do not like the comatose amnesiac protagonist as being creatively lazy. That aside the question is asked - in a world gone nuts to what ends would you go in order to survive? And apparently to these three men its a wide open smorgasbord (now there's a Scandinavian innovation I can support!) of human depravity. Cannibalism, murder, rape, wanton pillaging ... turns out humans are far more disgusting than the undead. Its layered, complex, and gross all in one - Love It!!
"Handling the Undead" by John Ajvide Lindqvist: A Book Review
Did not care for this book. Dour, dull Swedes are all the literary rage since "the girl with the dragon tattoo" foisted its boring depressing craptastic writing on an unsuspecting America. Lindqvist (how droll - spelled with a "qv" rather than a "qu", reinforcing how Swedish this guy really is) is touted as the Scandinavian Stephan King and a "master philosopher of the horror genre." I always said what the horror genre needed was a philosopher to put all the gory killings in perspective for me. Enter one John Ajvide Lindqvist. This book promised a "humanistic take" on zombies; when I think rotting shambling brain munching corpses I think whats missing is the humanism in all the brain eating. I never thought I'd hate zombies until I read this book. Be forewarned these zombies get down and...dance. What!?
"Halfhead" by Stuart B. Mac Bride: A Book Review
A Sci-fi thriller/mystery that claims to be an "International Bestseller." I always wondered what nebulous criteria must be met to claim that moniker. I think it must be sheer gall, if you have the nerve to claim it then its yours. Nothing screamed bestseller to me but I really wasn't disappointed even if you could see the ending broadcast a mile away. Its an imported book a first edition bound and printed in Great Britain (can't we all agree that the "Great" is long past and it should be simply Britain?). I wonder what a first edition paperback is worth? Not much, I'm afraid. Set in future Glasgow I'm getting a lot of colorful colloquialisms like "sodding," "bloody," and "bollocks," but my favorite being the inscrutable "bamheid" which I believe contextually means "looney." Its got a decent premise and setting, a truly fearsome female serial killer, and a protagonist that you don't want to kill yourself. Its also got a very sadistic take on the future of crime and punishment with a brutally heavy focus on the punishment aspect. It seems criminals (the worst of the worst [hate that phrase!] are subjected to "halfheading" - hence the title. Man, nothing escapes me! Half-heading consists of removal of the lower jaw, followed by lobotomizing and retraining to do manual labor. In the future there are no janitors just goofy looking simple minded criminals. Apparently this approach has done nothing to lower crime rates as there seems to be a veritable army of creepy looking felons.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Different is Not the Same!
It has become fairly obvious that my external brain is completely unhinged. She doesn't know the difference between "different" and the "same". She says that the knee and the neck of a person is the same. I know the difference between the two and they aren't the same. She also says something else is the same when I know it is different. I just forget what that was. I can't trust her - she's obviously nuts. Help me, Please call the authorities.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Short Update
Hello -
I am working, very busy, and very tired. I have not forgotten my responsibilities to keep posting and updating my life. Lots of stuff has been happening. I heard from old friends - (hello Sally) - reading lots of books, wish I had more time for drawing, trying to be proactive in my legal work, and lots of other interesting things. I am looking forward, hopefully, to a visit from the phrenologist. Other than that, I am alive and well with nothing to complain about other than the obvious. I was included in a book recently about adopted Native American children. The book is called Two Worlds: Lost Children of the Indian Adoption Projects. You can get a copy from Amazon. I've only read a little of it. By all accounts it seems to be very cool. Plus, my picture is on the cover!
Until next time - Giigawabamin Nagatch... Lay there then.
Ani
I am working, very busy, and very tired. I have not forgotten my responsibilities to keep posting and updating my life. Lots of stuff has been happening. I heard from old friends - (hello Sally) - reading lots of books, wish I had more time for drawing, trying to be proactive in my legal work, and lots of other interesting things. I am looking forward, hopefully, to a visit from the phrenologist. Other than that, I am alive and well with nothing to complain about other than the obvious. I was included in a book recently about adopted Native American children. The book is called Two Worlds: Lost Children of the Indian Adoption Projects. You can get a copy from Amazon. I've only read a little of it. By all accounts it seems to be very cool. Plus, my picture is on the cover!
Until next time - Giigawabamin Nagatch... Lay there then.
Ani
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Stuff Wot I Redd (First Book Review Part One)
I like Zombies. I think that of all the varieties of spooky things they are the best. Better than weeny love-struck vampires mooning over pale school girls with questionable acting skills, better than basketball playing werewolves. Zombies at their most basic do one thing: eat human flesh. And that's it. There should be very little deviation from the Canon of Allowable Zombie Behavior which was codified by the master of all things zombie: George R. Romero. I'm not saying that I condone it but zombies might be able to move faster than a drunken lurching stagger, and there MIGHT be the zombie-specialists that dine only on human brains. And that's pretty much it. It's their simplicity of purpose that makes them so frightening; that feeling that the very idea of the undead might not be all that far-fetched after all.
I can pretty much go to bed each night assured that no wall crawling creep with a mean jones for my blood is going to skulk into my bedroom, bite my neck, then turn into a bat and flap away into the darkness. Likewise, there are long odds against lycanthropy; yet there is the very real possibility of the walking dead. Respected sources, such as the Bible, do more than merely hint at the possibility of the walking dead, they cite chapter and verse. No pun intended. Not only did Jesus die then re-animate, the Book of Revelations also talks about how the dead will also come forth from their places of internment. Science albeit weird science, also seems to think that life after death might be possible; cryogenics deals with revivification. The possibility of a horrifying end will scare me more than aliens or the outright impossible, and I think that this is true for most people. It was a stroke of genius that Stephanie Meyer linked vampirism with love. Personally though I detest the "Twilighting" of the horror genre; it might make for fat bank accounts but it does nothing for me.
I was excited as I've recently been for anything lately hearing about the book, "World War Z" by Max Brooks. (to be continued)
I can pretty much go to bed each night assured that no wall crawling creep with a mean jones for my blood is going to skulk into my bedroom, bite my neck, then turn into a bat and flap away into the darkness. Likewise, there are long odds against lycanthropy; yet there is the very real possibility of the walking dead. Respected sources, such as the Bible, do more than merely hint at the possibility of the walking dead, they cite chapter and verse. No pun intended. Not only did Jesus die then re-animate, the Book of Revelations also talks about how the dead will also come forth from their places of internment. Science albeit weird science, also seems to think that life after death might be possible; cryogenics deals with revivification. The possibility of a horrifying end will scare me more than aliens or the outright impossible, and I think that this is true for most people. It was a stroke of genius that Stephanie Meyer linked vampirism with love. Personally though I detest the "Twilighting" of the horror genre; it might make for fat bank accounts but it does nothing for me.
I was excited as I've recently been for anything lately hearing about the book, "World War Z" by Max Brooks. (to be continued)
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Guest Blog from Jackie - Response to Anonymous
"Do you have children, Jackie? Picture someone breaking into your house and
RAPING your children, or possibly hypothetical children- tell me that person
doesn't deserve punishment. Find out that this person has raped before, and has
slipped through the system so he could repeat these offenses... OPEN YOUR EYES!"
First, I want to thank you for taking on this very difficult and painful subject and engaging in discussion. I do have 3 children and 5 grandchildren and have worked hard to be close to them and to care for them. And it is exactly from this place that I say that Ani does not need punishment in order to become responsible for his actions.
I think we are both in agreement that the act of sexual violence is a terrible thing and that it does terrible things to people. I think we are also in agreement that we must do all we can to prevent it from ever being done to anyone, and in particular to anyone that we care about. It sounds like we are also in agreement that the system we have built to help us to stop this crime from happening is failing to do this and that it needs to work better. The problem that I see and that I have seen first hand is that punishment does not accomplish this goal. That is what makes me so sad and frustrated - that we keep doing something that in many cases is making things worse, making us less safe.
There is much we can learn from Ani's life and one thing I have learned is that punishment has not made him either more safe or more responsible. We need to look elsewhere to do that and that is where my efforts lie. With my own children and grandchildren, I see the same thing - punishment does not work to provide them with valuable lessons in anything. Instead, it makes them angry and hateful and vengeful - not qualities that I want to nurture in them.
Our challenge here is very important. Yes, we simply MUST open our eyes to what we are doing when we use punishment to attempt to "teach" people to be loving, kind, and responsible to others and to how their actions impact others. Our system certainly is failing us, and we can do better. We can change the way we treat offenders. We can spend more time and money to find out what has caused them to act this way and to provide them with help to become responsible. Those who do not or cannot use these services are free to stay in prison. I see no purpose or value in the way that our current system locks people up for a magic number of years as if they will be somehow magically "cooked" after that number of years. It is not the number of years in prison that makes a person into a safe and responsible member of a community, it is what happens to a person during those years. We spend way too much time and too many legal resources arguing about the number of years a person "gets" and way too little time and money discussing what should be happening to this person and with this person during the time that we are paying for their food, housing, clothing, and care in a state institution. I guess, from my viewpoint of watching this happen to Ani for the last 30 years, I've had a ring-side seat.
I am not attempting to be "right" in stating my observations and opinions, but only to share what I think and believe to be true. I welcome this dialog and these challenges and questions. I think that it is through this kind of discussion that we will build a better world for us and for our children.
First, I want to thank you for taking on this very difficult and painful subject and engaging in discussion. I do have 3 children and 5 grandchildren and have worked hard to be close to them and to care for them. And it is exactly from this place that I say that Ani does not need punishment in order to become responsible for his actions.
I think we are both in agreement that the act of sexual violence is a terrible thing and that it does terrible things to people. I think we are also in agreement that we must do all we can to prevent it from ever being done to anyone, and in particular to anyone that we care about. It sounds like we are also in agreement that the system we have built to help us to stop this crime from happening is failing to do this and that it needs to work better. The problem that I see and that I have seen first hand is that punishment does not accomplish this goal. That is what makes me so sad and frustrated - that we keep doing something that in many cases is making things worse, making us less safe.
There is much we can learn from Ani's life and one thing I have learned is that punishment has not made him either more safe or more responsible. We need to look elsewhere to do that and that is where my efforts lie. With my own children and grandchildren, I see the same thing - punishment does not work to provide them with valuable lessons in anything. Instead, it makes them angry and hateful and vengeful - not qualities that I want to nurture in them.
Our challenge here is very important. Yes, we simply MUST open our eyes to what we are doing when we use punishment to attempt to "teach" people to be loving, kind, and responsible to others and to how their actions impact others. Our system certainly is failing us, and we can do better. We can change the way we treat offenders. We can spend more time and money to find out what has caused them to act this way and to provide them with help to become responsible. Those who do not or cannot use these services are free to stay in prison. I see no purpose or value in the way that our current system locks people up for a magic number of years as if they will be somehow magically "cooked" after that number of years. It is not the number of years in prison that makes a person into a safe and responsible member of a community, it is what happens to a person during those years. We spend way too much time and too many legal resources arguing about the number of years a person "gets" and way too little time and money discussing what should be happening to this person and with this person during the time that we are paying for their food, housing, clothing, and care in a state institution. I guess, from my viewpoint of watching this happen to Ani for the last 30 years, I've had a ring-side seat.
I am not attempting to be "right" in stating my observations and opinions, but only to share what I think and believe to be true. I welcome this dialog and these challenges and questions. I think that it is through this kind of discussion that we will build a better world for us and for our children.
Monday, February 6, 2012
The Year In ... STOOPIDITY
So here we are at the end of another year; while not exactly a banner year - a year for the ages - I can say, with all due pride and fanfare, that I did NOT set myself on fire, poke my own eyes out, or otherwise maim myself. For most of you that would be a given, but I seem to be a beast of a different color.
I began the year locked up in segregation, awaiting the disposition of yet another ticket for possession of porn, pills, and gambling; three of my favorite things in here. I could give you a five page dissertation as to WHY these things seem so dear to my shriveled heart, but it would seem to self serving and I'd only convince myself of their importance. So I won't do that.
What I will do is spend some time musing on why it seems easier to train a circus bear to ride one of those teeny tiny bikes than it is to get me to place something, ANYTHING, in front of my suicidal drive to blast off all the toes on my feet. What most people seem to learn at an early age is that actions that bring negative consequences should NOT be repeated ad nauseum. When I suffer punishment, I take it as a challenge: I will find the path to getting what I want without penalty. This type of determination is usually highly prized and well developed in highly successful people, and to be fair, I do apply this compulsion to succeed in many areas of my life. It just seems that I'm constitutionally unable to avoid the "banana in the tailpipe" situations.
For as long as I've known how I've always loved to gamble; mostly on cards and sporting events - since I've never rolled dice in a filthy alley I'm no degenerate gambler, right? My dad liked to play bingo and the slots at the reservation casino, and I'd be willing to wager that my grandfather, uncles, and aunts have all bet on one thing or another. Like alcoholism, gambling addiction seems to be endemic in the Indian population (I have nothing to support that assertion other than observation and my own experience, but I would be surprised if there wasn't a link between addictive behaviors and the populations of the survivors of genocide).
But I babble, the point here is that I dance perilously close to the edge of a precipice that I'm sad to say I have plunged over before. More than once, and deeply. At times I have not walked away from a losing hand at the table, when I know damn well I should have. I don't know if it's ego or willfulness, or the inveterate gamblers' belief that "I can make it up on the next hand, game, etc". The truth of it is that more times than not I end up losing more. To the well adjusted and sane the problems with my thought patterns are obvious, but I have a hard time walking away. Not all the time but some of the time.
So I recently lost a fair chunk of my bank account and I resentfully had to pay it off. The easy part is knowing what I did wrong, making a plan to avoid the same pitfall in the future. But as we all know life is rarely about "easy" and I seem to have a pathological dislike of easy. I can do the post-mortem, and the planning part, I just don't seem to be willing or able to put anything into action. Doing so requires a good deal of self discipline. Self discipline is a strange creature; it lurks in all of us seemingly ready to spring into action and snatch victory from the slavering jaws of defeat. But it is a fickle bitch of a beast since it is also just as readily willing to sit on its fat f-ing haunches and watch us immolate on the pyres of our pride.
I like to think of my self discipline as a beat cop patrolling my psyche looking for the opportunity to step in and lay down the law to my miscreant id. Unfortunately for me, family and friends, and my bank account, my beat cop seems more drunken, Irish look-the-other-way flatfoot than tireless crusader. More times than not I can simply roll right over my inner G-man and plunder the bank of Dumbassed Ideas, walking right past the sleeping fool with armloads of Bad Ideas. I need to fire that bastard.
As most of the followers of this blog know, I come from a slightly different background. While I refuse to let that be any type of excuse for anything I have ever done; it goes without saying that I am wired differently. At some point in everybody's development there comes a watershed moment where a youth transitions into a semblance of their future adult. A point where the foolish decisions are scrutinized with a wiser more jaundiced eye. That moment has yet to arrive for me. I know that it's close, I can feel some sort of pressure building against the dam of childish wants, and desires for the world to be the way I want it to be. But I resist; terrified of the terrible responsibilities of that adulthood. I fear being drowned, swept away by the demands of what I NEED to be doing rather than what I WANT to be doing.
I know, I know, blah, blah, blah, and boo-hoo-hoo. The point here is that I need to develop a sense of self discipline (wouldn't that take self discipline to do?). So why am I not doing that instead of typing away, expounding on my feelings like some weepy schoolgirl one might ask. Well mind yer own damn business I say; one thing at a time.
I strayed from the main idea... I would like to think that the past year was instructive in the sense that I can move forward. To where, or what I move on to is a mystery. Now on to other instructive episodes of foolishness.
I learned that I was willing to risk loss rather than lose a potential gain; to the point that I would act on something without doing my due diligence. In short I bought high and sold low. I'm sure that I'm not the only one to have made this error.
But I have rambled on for way too long and left the subject a long time ago; not to mention the not so subtle pressure of her-whose-name-shall-not-be-spoken to actually get this printed mailed and posted. So until next time I'm out of here. I have a few books that I want to review on my next post but I guess that I should probably get to reading.
I began the year locked up in segregation, awaiting the disposition of yet another ticket for possession of porn, pills, and gambling; three of my favorite things in here. I could give you a five page dissertation as to WHY these things seem so dear to my shriveled heart, but it would seem to self serving and I'd only convince myself of their importance. So I won't do that.
What I will do is spend some time musing on why it seems easier to train a circus bear to ride one of those teeny tiny bikes than it is to get me to place something, ANYTHING, in front of my suicidal drive to blast off all the toes on my feet. What most people seem to learn at an early age is that actions that bring negative consequences should NOT be repeated ad nauseum. When I suffer punishment, I take it as a challenge: I will find the path to getting what I want without penalty. This type of determination is usually highly prized and well developed in highly successful people, and to be fair, I do apply this compulsion to succeed in many areas of my life. It just seems that I'm constitutionally unable to avoid the "banana in the tailpipe" situations.
For as long as I've known how I've always loved to gamble; mostly on cards and sporting events - since I've never rolled dice in a filthy alley I'm no degenerate gambler, right? My dad liked to play bingo and the slots at the reservation casino, and I'd be willing to wager that my grandfather, uncles, and aunts have all bet on one thing or another. Like alcoholism, gambling addiction seems to be endemic in the Indian population (I have nothing to support that assertion other than observation and my own experience, but I would be surprised if there wasn't a link between addictive behaviors and the populations of the survivors of genocide).
But I babble, the point here is that I dance perilously close to the edge of a precipice that I'm sad to say I have plunged over before. More than once, and deeply. At times I have not walked away from a losing hand at the table, when I know damn well I should have. I don't know if it's ego or willfulness, or the inveterate gamblers' belief that "I can make it up on the next hand, game, etc". The truth of it is that more times than not I end up losing more. To the well adjusted and sane the problems with my thought patterns are obvious, but I have a hard time walking away. Not all the time but some of the time.
So I recently lost a fair chunk of my bank account and I resentfully had to pay it off. The easy part is knowing what I did wrong, making a plan to avoid the same pitfall in the future. But as we all know life is rarely about "easy" and I seem to have a pathological dislike of easy. I can do the post-mortem, and the planning part, I just don't seem to be willing or able to put anything into action. Doing so requires a good deal of self discipline. Self discipline is a strange creature; it lurks in all of us seemingly ready to spring into action and snatch victory from the slavering jaws of defeat. But it is a fickle bitch of a beast since it is also just as readily willing to sit on its fat f-ing haunches and watch us immolate on the pyres of our pride.
I like to think of my self discipline as a beat cop patrolling my psyche looking for the opportunity to step in and lay down the law to my miscreant id. Unfortunately for me, family and friends, and my bank account, my beat cop seems more drunken, Irish look-the-other-way flatfoot than tireless crusader. More times than not I can simply roll right over my inner G-man and plunder the bank of Dumbassed Ideas, walking right past the sleeping fool with armloads of Bad Ideas. I need to fire that bastard.
As most of the followers of this blog know, I come from a slightly different background. While I refuse to let that be any type of excuse for anything I have ever done; it goes without saying that I am wired differently. At some point in everybody's development there comes a watershed moment where a youth transitions into a semblance of their future adult. A point where the foolish decisions are scrutinized with a wiser more jaundiced eye. That moment has yet to arrive for me. I know that it's close, I can feel some sort of pressure building against the dam of childish wants, and desires for the world to be the way I want it to be. But I resist; terrified of the terrible responsibilities of that adulthood. I fear being drowned, swept away by the demands of what I NEED to be doing rather than what I WANT to be doing.
I know, I know, blah, blah, blah, and boo-hoo-hoo. The point here is that I need to develop a sense of self discipline (wouldn't that take self discipline to do?). So why am I not doing that instead of typing away, expounding on my feelings like some weepy schoolgirl one might ask. Well mind yer own damn business I say; one thing at a time.
I strayed from the main idea... I would like to think that the past year was instructive in the sense that I can move forward. To where, or what I move on to is a mystery. Now on to other instructive episodes of foolishness.
I learned that I was willing to risk loss rather than lose a potential gain; to the point that I would act on something without doing my due diligence. In short I bought high and sold low. I'm sure that I'm not the only one to have made this error.
But I have rambled on for way too long and left the subject a long time ago; not to mention the not so subtle pressure of her-whose-name-shall-not-be-spoken to actually get this printed mailed and posted. So until next time I'm out of here. I have a few books that I want to review on my next post but I guess that I should probably get to reading.
Friday, December 16, 2011
NEW FOR 2012!!!
Baring extinction, I have renewed my dedication to a strict regimen of posting to The Chronicles of Kieson as well as its sister blog, Banished Art. However, should the Mayans prove correct, then, you will get nothing. ;)
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Guest Blog from Jackie - Where things are
I have gratitude today for the courage I know that it must have taken for people to speak very difficult and painful and personal truths. It is what it is.
I feel inspired by this example to attempt to speak of my own. Many people have wondered, I am sure, over the years that I have supported and loved Ani for who he is just why I continue to do this and how I manage to keep doing it. I often wonder myself.
I mentioned earlier that I have learned many things from getting to know Ani and attempting to understand his experience in life. I will speak of a few of them.
It still shocks me every day to grow in awareness of what it means to grow up without parents, without a family, without knowing either one in that intimate experiential way that most of us know who we are and where we came from. I recently watched the first Harry Potter movie again when it was shown on TV and made a startling connection between the part of the story where Harry is taken to Hogwarts for the first time and taken around to shops to buy his school supplies...and Ani's experience. As I put myself into Harry's shoes and imagined what it would be like for him to find a place where he belonged for the first time, and then to find that his parents had left him a room full of money so that he could pay for his own needs himself without having to beg, borrow, or feel obligated to others for everything, it flashed on me that this was Ani's experience. I imagined what Harry's life at this new school would have been like had he not had this money left for him by his parents, if he had been "poor" and everything he needed had to be "given" to him out of charity by someone else who perhaps felt burdened by Harry's need. I saw how much more assurance he would feel that he was deserving and had worth just by being able to walk into a store and have the standing to get what he needed like everyone else. This money, then, made a huge and concrete and very real difference in Harry's internal and external position in life. I saw and felt this all in a flash and I saw that I had been unaware of the meaning of money for Ani and unaware of all that the priviledge of knowing my parents and growing up in their family had endowed me with...not through any effort on my part at all.
It is astonishing what we take for granted and then how blind this makes us. So often when I am interacting with Ani, I forget how different his experience of life is as I make assumptions and create expectations of him. The facts of his experience do not change the realities of life and what it requires of him. But they do change significantly the very important factor of my understanding and thus how I relate to him, how I support him, how I show care for him and how I view the things he needs in order to be able to meet the requirements of life. I don't think he needs punishment. He has had plenty of that and it hasn't given him or society anything of value. Since he is in a place that assumes that punishment is what is needed, and that doesn't look much beyond that, it becomes difficult to make the translation. It has been my experience that most people look at me with blank faces when I speak of trying to do better than we are for his situation - not only to benefit him, but society as well.
It isn't a matter of being "soft on crime" or letting people get away with things. In my mind it is simply helping a person to develop the capability and to have the tools and the resources to become responsible for himself to the best of his ability. Ani missed out on quite a lot and he has a lot of questions about why this happened to him. Growing up as a child, the realities of his life were never addressed with him and the feelings he had about these realities were never listened to or supported. He never developed the ability to express his needs in appropriate ways. In 2000 I had no idea what he needed or what was missing and today I regret that deeply and feel that it is in some ways my own failure. I am not dwelling in that fact, but I am taking responsibility for it and doing what I need to do to take care of it. I am taking off my blinders. I am sharing responsibility with Ani for finding out what he needs to do, what he needs to be given, so that he can take care of the things he needs to take care of. I am engaging systems and asking them to share in this reponsibility as well, or to implement their responsibility to him in ways that are more appropriate and helpful than have been done in the past.
This is what people do.
Jackie
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Where Things Stand
I began this blog knowing that I might disturb the past or that my little corner of the 'net might cause others pain or provoke an angry response. I don't live in a vacuum and having lived my life like Godzilla stomping Tokyo is going to have serious and far-ranging consequences; yet, I have to admit to not being prepared for the situation which I knew would eventually arise.
But I know how to respond to this reminder of my past. I tell the truth and if push comes to shove I can face whats real and I can speak with honesty and integrity about my life. With that in mind I can say I have never and will not make any excuses for my actions nor will I or have I ever asked anyone to make them for me. Don't confuse the words of a lawyer as an attempt to avoid culpability for anything I've done. Lawyers are paid to represent their client and I have no control over what my lawyers and experts choose to say in doing this. Moreover, I don't ask to be forgiven, or even seek redemption even though those concepts are never far from my mind.
I don't think that because of what was done to me excuses what I've done to others or that the people that I've done horribly shitty things to deserve to have had those things done to them. I have no right, moral or otherwise, to treat any human being the way that I have treated them in the past. And people - human beings innocent by and large of doing me any harm - have suffered greatly because of the things that I've done to them. I have felt the very same fear, terror, helplessness, loss, anger and rage they feel, and knowing that I'm responsible for their pain makes me sick. I would give anything to not have done those things to them.
If you respect and accept what I've said above then you might choose to accept the following.
I cannot forget what is also true for me. What follows is less than pleasant but no less true and I have every right to say it. If this makes me seem insensitive or lessens my humanity then I'm sorry that you feel that way.
Everyone who knows me knows the pride I take in being Native American. There is a wealth of historical fact about how Indians have been treated, but I have first hand knowledge of how my family was destroyed by a bureaucratic machine committed to the destruction of the reservation system and by extension its culture and values. So while historians can say, truthfully, that Native Americans were victims of genocide and a systematic attempt was made to destroy N.A. culture by the government of the United States, I had a front row seat and saw the destruction up close.
I try not to link these two worlds - the things I've done and the things that happened to me. I have an axe to grind as a Native American, but I don't want to say that that is the reason that I've done anything to anyone. Native Americans might say that what I've done was wrong and contrary to Native American values and I would agree to a point. I never signed a treaty. I have a huge conflict with how my people have conducted themselves and that conflict extends to my life and actions. But whats been done to me doesn't explain what I've done to others.
I don't need to be the person that I was 10 years ago. I'm not the man I was 10 years ago. I may never be redeemed or rehabilitated and I have little control over others perceptions of those concepts as they apply to me. But I'm a better man now than then. Not perfect but thats not something I strive for. I want to treat people the way all people deserve to be treated - with respect and dignity. I know the love of others, both family and friends, and I give love unconditionally. I will continue to learn and grow. I thank all the people who have supported me with their love and friendship. I apologize unreservedly to those I have done wrong to. You did not deserve what I've done to you and I'm committed to doing whatever it is I need or am able to do to make you whole.
Ani
********************
I would like to thank both of my external brains for their kind assistance and thoughtful support of this post.
Monday, May 9, 2011
I'm back
So. The time has come to break the inertia of the helpless and get a post written. I hadn't realized so much time had snuck by since the last time I gave due to this beautiful disaster that I call a life, but as is the nature of time it creeps away quickest when not watched.
It's not like my life has been boring either; since the last post I've gotten kicked off the hill, been thrown into a new cage, gotten doubled up with another trouble-making Native, received a firm date for my upcoming evaluation, and on top of all this commotion I've managed to stay out of trouble. At least I haven't been caught.
That would be funny if it wasn't the truth. Prison seems to be the worst place for a man to try to rehabilitate themselves. While not being a gang member, I have a lot of obligations because I'm indian. Funny how that works out: trapped by ones own culture. It's not that I don't have a choice here, but frankly the alternatives are crap. I couldn't survive in here if I didn't have the weight of the First Nation on my side.
I guess prison changes EVERYTHING. Some people don't realize that ugly little truth of being trapped by the very thing that gives me identity. That's not to say that I don't get a lot of benefit from other indians because I've taken more than my share of goodies and had other brothers put in some "work" for me. Unfortunately, it's just how things get done in here. You want new sheets? Clothes that another man hasn't worn, farted, and done worse in? You want the queens and punks to stay on their squares and leave you alone? You want something for the head to knock the edge off and make the night go as nicely as possible? You want to BELONG and when it's time to stand up you want to be sure you ain't standing all alone?
If you want these things then you better claim up coming through the door because this asn't a joke in here. There are people in here that are going to die in a cell and some of them really don't give a shit if you're a nice guy, or innocent, or trying to be a better person. Yet, when it's all said and done, there are people in here doing the right thing. It's not a good life or easy time but there are people that have turned that corner. Predominantly these are people that have a door that they can eventually step through.
In 2000, the state decided that if you received 10 years in prison then you serve 10 years with zero time off for good behavior. Prisoners are the easiest target for politicians to make hay off. Nobody loves a criminal other than the friends and family of the criminal. Anyhow. In Wisconsin judges are political creatures, too; walleyed eyes on the interests of "justice" as well as their re-election. When they began the "truth in sentencing" garbage they also decided that the current sentencing guidelines needed beefing up as well so most crimes got hefty increases. These lengthier sentences resulted in people doing longer sentences without ANY incentive to change. And this is where I find myself: a 50 year bit with no door.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
All Hail the Conquering Hero
It was bound to happen. By the sheer number of complaints I've filed against this prison chances were I was going to win one. And I did. I quote: "2 cookies return to inmate property per I.C.I. 1-13-11." I am aware of the irony of a fat guy grieving tasty pastries, but you can't rain on my parade. Not today. For today is my day, the Evil Empire has been routed. Tonight I sleep the sleep of the just.
So why is this so monumental of an event you might ask? Because over the course of 20+ years of incarceration in one gulag or another I had managed to win one solitary complaint lodged against the Wisconsin D.O.C. Today that ignominious total is two.
Let me tell ya how this game is played in the land of cheese and beer. In Wisconsin lock-ups inmates are allowed to complain about the "frustrations and irritations of institutional life." (Wisconsin Department of Corrections Chapter DOC 310.10 appendix.) The system is called the Inmate Complaint Review System or ICRS for short. This may seem like a good thing to the uninitiated. But those familiar with this little circus of the Bizarre will tell you that like any game of chance in in any circus worth its name, this game is rigged. The complaint examiners or I.C.E.'s are employees of the Department of Corrections, many are married to administrators, supervisors, and line officers. How do you think domestic life is going to be if you're finding in favor of the inmates? Plus, like any good bureaucracy this DOC is rife with regulations, rules, procedures, and policies. All written down, numbered and listed until you want to puke with it all. Nevermind that these regulations, rules, procedures, and policies are always in flux, with this one superceding that one and not to mention this rule contradicting that policy. The I.C.E.'s are good; they know the byzantine arcana of DOC policy because they do nothing else but handle and dispose of complaints from inmates.
Despite they're good points, they can be stunningly mindless. A few years ago I had a watch with a leather band. The band had a single row of stitching holding two thicknesses of leather together. This is called "double stitched" and its not allowed in the joint. Somehow the band avoided detection when I initially received it. I had the watch for years and despite several property inventories it presented no problem. Yet as things go in here all it took was one bored, diligent, or bitter officer and my watch was contrabanded and subject to disposal. The issue was the band: it was double stitched and there was no getting around that. Luckily I had found a store that had clear watch bands as the new regulations that had gone into effect after I had received my watch now stipulated. So I told the property room that they could contraband the watch band and I'd order a new band for the watch. I was stunned when the property room determined that the watch and the watchband were "all watch" according to them and if the band went the watch went with it. So I complained, filed my paperwork in a timely fashion and waited for the decision. I thought I was on firm ground with a good argument.
The examiner at that time, was the warden's wife and her determination was that not only was the band double stitched but the band must have been illicitly smuggled in because that's the only way it could have possibly gotten into the institution. Complaint dismissed and it was rubber stamped by the warden. Big surprise there. It was only after I appealed to the office of the secretary of the department of corrections did some semblance of sanity return.
The only sure-fire way to beat them is to be as well versed in policy and procedure as the examiners are. An inmate has to keep up with all the policy revisions and be certain to keep himself within the limits of all relevant rules. Or you can exploit loopholes. However to their credit a system has been installed that looks good on paper but is flawed in execution.
It was this array of bureaucratic power and indifference that I found myself in a contest of wills over...cookies. Christmas cookies to be exact. Tasty little treats sold but once a year for a limited time. Knowledgeable convicts look forward to this time of year not so much for the cookies but for the containers. These cookies come in a big resealable plastic tub, perfect for cooking in, eating out of, or storing your odds and ends in. And I had three tubs of cookies and plans for the tubs. But my faulty decision-making process had a hiccup and I found myself, once again, on the Hill getting Focused.
When you go to segregation the Philistines get to fondle your property. Of course, they're going to find something to contraband. But that day they picked the wrong convict and contrabanded the wrong piece of property. The property room told me I was over the allowable limit on the volume of property I was allowed to have. The department of corrections mandates that all of an inmate's property must fit into a 32" x 16" x 16" box, excluding electronics, legal work and one oversized hobby item. On its face that rule makes sense, but once again the devil is in the details. The property room invariably counts towards this limit state-issued clothing, particularly a bulky oversized winter coat and clod-hopper boots both of which are space hogs. So of course I was over the limit and when that happens the first items on the chopping block is an inmates' consumables, and my cookies were at risk. So I complained, went through the farce of trying to "resolve" the issue, and finally brought up the point that by policy state issued clothing should not count toward an inmates volume limit.
And what do you know: I won. While I wonder what kind of Hell I've wandered into where Grown Men argue over cookies, right now I'm dreaming of that day in March or April where I get to open that tub of stale Christmas cookies and taste sweet victory.
All hail the conquering hero.
Addendum - 1/14/11 - It's come to my attention that I didn't so much win my complaint as much as these buzzards just gave up. They quit! They tapped out, gave up and threw in the towel. Waupun is the France of Correctional Institutions! In Star Wars did the Emperor weenie out or did he go down swinging? When Rocky Balboa climbed through the ropes did that big goofy Russian just throw up his hands and say, "Nyet, not today, I'm feeling bloated." No! Perhaps the property room was demoralized by the crushing impact of my impeccable logic. Nah, probably just got tired of me bitchin' about some cookies. Either way: I still win! Woo-hoo!
So why is this so monumental of an event you might ask? Because over the course of 20+ years of incarceration in one gulag or another I had managed to win one solitary complaint lodged against the Wisconsin D.O.C. Today that ignominious total is two.
Let me tell ya how this game is played in the land of cheese and beer. In Wisconsin lock-ups inmates are allowed to complain about the "frustrations and irritations of institutional life." (Wisconsin Department of Corrections Chapter DOC 310.10 appendix.) The system is called the Inmate Complaint Review System or ICRS for short. This may seem like a good thing to the uninitiated. But those familiar with this little circus of the Bizarre will tell you that like any game of chance in in any circus worth its name, this game is rigged. The complaint examiners or I.C.E.'s are employees of the Department of Corrections, many are married to administrators, supervisors, and line officers. How do you think domestic life is going to be if you're finding in favor of the inmates? Plus, like any good bureaucracy this DOC is rife with regulations, rules, procedures, and policies. All written down, numbered and listed until you want to puke with it all. Nevermind that these regulations, rules, procedures, and policies are always in flux, with this one superceding that one and not to mention this rule contradicting that policy. The I.C.E.'s are good; they know the byzantine arcana of DOC policy because they do nothing else but handle and dispose of complaints from inmates.
Despite they're good points, they can be stunningly mindless. A few years ago I had a watch with a leather band. The band had a single row of stitching holding two thicknesses of leather together. This is called "double stitched" and its not allowed in the joint. Somehow the band avoided detection when I initially received it. I had the watch for years and despite several property inventories it presented no problem. Yet as things go in here all it took was one bored, diligent, or bitter officer and my watch was contrabanded and subject to disposal. The issue was the band: it was double stitched and there was no getting around that. Luckily I had found a store that had clear watch bands as the new regulations that had gone into effect after I had received my watch now stipulated. So I told the property room that they could contraband the watch band and I'd order a new band for the watch. I was stunned when the property room determined that the watch and the watchband were "all watch" according to them and if the band went the watch went with it. So I complained, filed my paperwork in a timely fashion and waited for the decision. I thought I was on firm ground with a good argument.
The examiner at that time, was the warden's wife and her determination was that not only was the band double stitched but the band must have been illicitly smuggled in because that's the only way it could have possibly gotten into the institution. Complaint dismissed and it was rubber stamped by the warden. Big surprise there. It was only after I appealed to the office of the secretary of the department of corrections did some semblance of sanity return.
The only sure-fire way to beat them is to be as well versed in policy and procedure as the examiners are. An inmate has to keep up with all the policy revisions and be certain to keep himself within the limits of all relevant rules. Or you can exploit loopholes. However to their credit a system has been installed that looks good on paper but is flawed in execution.
It was this array of bureaucratic power and indifference that I found myself in a contest of wills over...cookies. Christmas cookies to be exact. Tasty little treats sold but once a year for a limited time. Knowledgeable convicts look forward to this time of year not so much for the cookies but for the containers. These cookies come in a big resealable plastic tub, perfect for cooking in, eating out of, or storing your odds and ends in. And I had three tubs of cookies and plans for the tubs. But my faulty decision-making process had a hiccup and I found myself, once again, on the Hill getting Focused.
When you go to segregation the Philistines get to fondle your property. Of course, they're going to find something to contraband. But that day they picked the wrong convict and contrabanded the wrong piece of property. The property room told me I was over the allowable limit on the volume of property I was allowed to have. The department of corrections mandates that all of an inmate's property must fit into a 32" x 16" x 16" box, excluding electronics, legal work and one oversized hobby item. On its face that rule makes sense, but once again the devil is in the details. The property room invariably counts towards this limit state-issued clothing, particularly a bulky oversized winter coat and clod-hopper boots both of which are space hogs. So of course I was over the limit and when that happens the first items on the chopping block is an inmates' consumables, and my cookies were at risk. So I complained, went through the farce of trying to "resolve" the issue, and finally brought up the point that by policy state issued clothing should not count toward an inmates volume limit.
And what do you know: I won. While I wonder what kind of Hell I've wandered into where Grown Men argue over cookies, right now I'm dreaming of that day in March or April where I get to open that tub of stale Christmas cookies and taste sweet victory.
All hail the conquering hero.
Addendum - 1/14/11 - It's come to my attention that I didn't so much win my complaint as much as these buzzards just gave up. They quit! They tapped out, gave up and threw in the towel. Waupun is the France of Correctional Institutions! In Star Wars did the Emperor weenie out or did he go down swinging? When Rocky Balboa climbed through the ropes did that big goofy Russian just throw up his hands and say, "Nyet, not today, I'm feeling bloated." No! Perhaps the property room was demoralized by the crushing impact of my impeccable logic. Nah, probably just got tired of me bitchin' about some cookies. Either way: I still win! Woo-hoo!
Friday, December 31, 2010
"Too Late!!" - Guest Blog from Jackie
Since Ani is in segregation, and I haven't heard from him for awhile, I decided to use his blog for a bit of a rant.
I remember when the judge sentenced him in 2002 that she gave a very brief nod to the concept that if he were younger she might consider suggestions for evaluation and treatment. This sense that something is "too late" and therefore the only thing we can do is to lock him up for basically the rest of his life, riles me. How can something be "too late" when you were never offered it in the first place? What is "too late"? Has the train left the station? Has the doctor gone home for the day? Is there not another day, another train?
There seems to me to be something monumentally cruel in telling someone it is too late to allow them to learn, to grow, to find out what they can do to make things better. Ani is a slow learner and a late developer in some areas. He is grappling with how to make decisions by thinking through options and consequences rather than acting without thought. I don't know how much he can develop this ability, but I would never discourage his desire by telling him "it is too late" or "that ship has sailed" or "that's water over the dam." Do we send people to prison to "think about what they've done" or do we do so to lock them up forever so we don't have to think about them? How many people actually give any thought to what happens to people when our judges, on our behalf, give out sentences that give up on a person?
The bitter part of it being "too late" for Ani is that we are just for the first time learning what may have been the cause for many of his difficulties and we are attempting to get this evaluated. For a variety of reasons, this was never done before. If there is something going on that caused him to have difficulty in several areas, it offers hope to find that out and see what can be offered to him to deal with this. This seems to be all about hope and possibility, learning and growth...and yet the judge acted on her belief that it was all "too late" for Ani.
It has been a fragile thing to offer hope to Ani. For as long as he can remember, he has been offered shame and punishment whenever he failed to live up to the expectations of others. He was told over and over that he was lazy or he didn't care or he wasn't trying hard enough - that the thing being expected of him was within his power to do. And then, over and over he was heaped with scorn and rejection, blame and punishment when things didn't work out the way others had expected. He came to have a deathly fear of all expectations. Our recent sojourn into the land of neuroscience has been frought with anxiety for the possiblity of hope, the possiblity that things might not always have been his fault, and the possiblity that upon learning where he is having difficulty there might be something that could make things work better. Dang those expectations!
So, in spite of the judge's pronouncement that life was pretty much over for Ani, and no one would be making any more expectations of him, I have labored to help him find answers. In my mind, prison is - or should be - about learning to take responsibility, learning to act in a way that changes things and makes them better. However, I have found very very little of that going on in prison and I wonder if it explains why there is such a high recidivism rate. It is really a dangerous thing, in my mind, to lock people up without giving them the tools to make changes, as it is bound to actually make them worse.
Taking responsibility, I believe, starts with knowing what you are capable of, what is within your power to do. If we take responsibility for something we have no power over, it kind of messes up our sense of responsibility. Likewise, if we believe we are powerless when there actually is something we can do, we have warped our sense of responsibility. I hope I am not being naive in my belief that an evaluation will help Ani to learn more about what he is capable of doing, and what he is not capable of at this time. And, that this will form the basis for a truer sense of responsibility.
Ani's last letter also addressed his current state of understanding on this issue, making the following request of me:
"On my next worksheet series I would like to work on my decision making abilities. I should point out this is a biggie. Even though I know what I'm supposed to do I more often than not will do what I want to do. Its a terrible habit for me to break. Nothing works. Not logic, reason, beatings, or Prison; I'm incorrigible. I would like to be corrigible."
I agree that there is something very impaired in his decision making abilities. I am encouraged by his growing awareness of this fact. I am hopeful that with the help of some professionals that we are hoping to be able to bring into the prison to evaluate him, we will know more about what isn't working. And then comes the possibility of growth and change. Much better to be here than to be left at the station watching the train of life departing with just about everyone else on it.
Happy New Year!
Jackie
I remember when the judge sentenced him in 2002 that she gave a very brief nod to the concept that if he were younger she might consider suggestions for evaluation and treatment. This sense that something is "too late" and therefore the only thing we can do is to lock him up for basically the rest of his life, riles me. How can something be "too late" when you were never offered it in the first place? What is "too late"? Has the train left the station? Has the doctor gone home for the day? Is there not another day, another train?
There seems to me to be something monumentally cruel in telling someone it is too late to allow them to learn, to grow, to find out what they can do to make things better. Ani is a slow learner and a late developer in some areas. He is grappling with how to make decisions by thinking through options and consequences rather than acting without thought. I don't know how much he can develop this ability, but I would never discourage his desire by telling him "it is too late" or "that ship has sailed" or "that's water over the dam." Do we send people to prison to "think about what they've done" or do we do so to lock them up forever so we don't have to think about them? How many people actually give any thought to what happens to people when our judges, on our behalf, give out sentences that give up on a person?
The bitter part of it being "too late" for Ani is that we are just for the first time learning what may have been the cause for many of his difficulties and we are attempting to get this evaluated. For a variety of reasons, this was never done before. If there is something going on that caused him to have difficulty in several areas, it offers hope to find that out and see what can be offered to him to deal with this. This seems to be all about hope and possibility, learning and growth...and yet the judge acted on her belief that it was all "too late" for Ani.
It has been a fragile thing to offer hope to Ani. For as long as he can remember, he has been offered shame and punishment whenever he failed to live up to the expectations of others. He was told over and over that he was lazy or he didn't care or he wasn't trying hard enough - that the thing being expected of him was within his power to do. And then, over and over he was heaped with scorn and rejection, blame and punishment when things didn't work out the way others had expected. He came to have a deathly fear of all expectations. Our recent sojourn into the land of neuroscience has been frought with anxiety for the possiblity of hope, the possiblity that things might not always have been his fault, and the possiblity that upon learning where he is having difficulty there might be something that could make things work better. Dang those expectations!
So, in spite of the judge's pronouncement that life was pretty much over for Ani, and no one would be making any more expectations of him, I have labored to help him find answers. In my mind, prison is - or should be - about learning to take responsibility, learning to act in a way that changes things and makes them better. However, I have found very very little of that going on in prison and I wonder if it explains why there is such a high recidivism rate. It is really a dangerous thing, in my mind, to lock people up without giving them the tools to make changes, as it is bound to actually make them worse.
Taking responsibility, I believe, starts with knowing what you are capable of, what is within your power to do. If we take responsibility for something we have no power over, it kind of messes up our sense of responsibility. Likewise, if we believe we are powerless when there actually is something we can do, we have warped our sense of responsibility. I hope I am not being naive in my belief that an evaluation will help Ani to learn more about what he is capable of doing, and what he is not capable of at this time. And, that this will form the basis for a truer sense of responsibility.
Ani's last letter also addressed his current state of understanding on this issue, making the following request of me:
"On my next worksheet series I would like to work on my decision making abilities. I should point out this is a biggie. Even though I know what I'm supposed to do I more often than not will do what I want to do. Its a terrible habit for me to break. Nothing works. Not logic, reason, beatings, or Prison; I'm incorrigible. I would like to be corrigible."
I agree that there is something very impaired in his decision making abilities. I am encouraged by his growing awareness of this fact. I am hopeful that with the help of some professionals that we are hoping to be able to bring into the prison to evaluate him, we will know more about what isn't working. And then comes the possibility of growth and change. Much better to be here than to be left at the station watching the train of life departing with just about everyone else on it.
Happy New Year!
Jackie
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Birthday Greetings
(with an intro and closing by Jackie)
Ani's last post was written while he was in segregation. He got out in early November, after about 50 days and was in GP or "general population" for about 6 weeks. I noticed that he seemed to be taking some time in adjusting to the stresses of adapting to a new cellmate and to the demands of his neighbors on his tier. He was just talking about being ready to send a new post to his blog.
Then, on December 16th, when he was coming back to his cell from a meal, he was given something folded up in a wad of toilet paper by the tier tender (a tier tender is an inmate job), and told to deliver it to another inmate when he went up to the library the next morning. He put it in his pocket and before he could decide what to do about it he was stopped by a guard, asked what he had in his pocket, and his cell was searched. Once again, they found a few items of contraband in his cell (although not in his personal property), and when he handed over what he had just put in his pocket, it turned out to be 3 pills in a salt packet. The pills were clonidine, a prescription medication used to treat high blood pressure. (I looked it up.) He was whisked back to "the hole" and has been in solitary confinement since then, waiting for his "ticket" to be heard. Since tickets are only heard on Fridays, and the next two Fridays will be holidays, it looks like he won't have his ticket heard until January 7. That means he will have served 3 weeks before his sentence even starts, since the sentence doesn't start until the day it is given at the hearing.
So, unfortunately, Ani was in segregation for his birthday on December 24, and for Christmas. He wrote me a letter on his birthday, and I thought I would share parts of it with whomever might be reading...
"12-24-2010
"Hey! It's my birthday! I can't imagine a day coming where I won't be absof*inglutely thrilled by my birthday. Can't imagine it. I do hope that a day comes where life will be better, but for now this is pretty good... I woke up and my mind went immediately to my conduct report. I was unhappy because it was written in such a way as to appear that I named names. But then I saw a fruit fly while I was brushing my teeth. I've, for mysterious reason unknown to even myself, always like fruit flys. So I asked it a question and if by way of the universe answering it flew up and landed very close to my mirror on the wall. I was looking at myself and I knew that I was going to be alright....
"I do look forward to book day - new books to read. So I was eagerly anticipating the moment when I heard the book cart trundling down the hallway. He stops at my door, opens my trap and gives me three books. What the hell?! They ain't the books I ordered, in fact the CO gave me my neighbors book order. The CO looks on the cart and no books! I'm...unhappy. But the CO (an all around decent fellow) says, "fill another order out" and he'll go fill it and bring them on the med cart. Wow. And he does it! Ha! And I got my first three choices - which never happens! Joyz! So I got a cooool b-day gift from the universe. Thank you universe. So I have two big fat James Michener novels, Texas and Hawaii as well as the fourth book in the Earth's Children series by Jean Auel, The Plains of Passage. So that's 3317 pages to read in a week if you're interested. Right now Hawaii is first up. The book begins with a king getting brained and anytime a book begins with royalty getting their brains beat out - well, that's an okay book to me!
"...do you want to know what my favorite word in the whole world is? It's not love, or peace, or money (but them's all cool). It's not toys (dear to my hearts), or even Jackie (but its nearly neck and neck!). My favorite word in the whole wide world is: ...wait for it... FLUEGELHORN! That word just makes me chuckle/snort/giggle and fills me with the urge to dance (sucker!) and shout it at the top of my lungs.
FLUEGELHORN
"Yes, I'm being silly but for the first time in a week I feel like me again. Sure, I made a bad choice but I can recover. My reputation might take a hit but I think I'll be okay. ... I'll just disappear into the belly of this concrete beast for a few months...and then I'll be burped up like a bit of undigested pot roast, ready for my next adventure!"
(end of Ani's letter) It never ceases to amaze me how he can let things like this slide off his back and come up grinning. Sure, he's been dealing with set-backs and losses all of his life so I suppose he has developed a knack of some kind that most of the rest of us simply don't have. And, if you don't really have any plans or expectations, you don't get bent out of shape when they are foiled. I can't decide if his way of looking at life is something to be sorry for or wish I had!
We've no pictures this year like last Christmas. Please feel free to share your own with us!!
Season's Greetings and Best Wishes to all Readers,
Jackie
Ani's last post was written while he was in segregation. He got out in early November, after about 50 days and was in GP or "general population" for about 6 weeks. I noticed that he seemed to be taking some time in adjusting to the stresses of adapting to a new cellmate and to the demands of his neighbors on his tier. He was just talking about being ready to send a new post to his blog.
Then, on December 16th, when he was coming back to his cell from a meal, he was given something folded up in a wad of toilet paper by the tier tender (a tier tender is an inmate job), and told to deliver it to another inmate when he went up to the library the next morning. He put it in his pocket and before he could decide what to do about it he was stopped by a guard, asked what he had in his pocket, and his cell was searched. Once again, they found a few items of contraband in his cell (although not in his personal property), and when he handed over what he had just put in his pocket, it turned out to be 3 pills in a salt packet. The pills were clonidine, a prescription medication used to treat high blood pressure. (I looked it up.) He was whisked back to "the hole" and has been in solitary confinement since then, waiting for his "ticket" to be heard. Since tickets are only heard on Fridays, and the next two Fridays will be holidays, it looks like he won't have his ticket heard until January 7. That means he will have served 3 weeks before his sentence even starts, since the sentence doesn't start until the day it is given at the hearing.
So, unfortunately, Ani was in segregation for his birthday on December 24, and for Christmas. He wrote me a letter on his birthday, and I thought I would share parts of it with whomever might be reading...
"12-24-2010
"Hey! It's my birthday! I can't imagine a day coming where I won't be absof*inglutely thrilled by my birthday. Can't imagine it. I do hope that a day comes where life will be better, but for now this is pretty good... I woke up and my mind went immediately to my conduct report. I was unhappy because it was written in such a way as to appear that I named names. But then I saw a fruit fly while I was brushing my teeth. I've, for mysterious reason unknown to even myself, always like fruit flys. So I asked it a question and if by way of the universe answering it flew up and landed very close to my mirror on the wall. I was looking at myself and I knew that I was going to be alright....
"I do look forward to book day - new books to read. So I was eagerly anticipating the moment when I heard the book cart trundling down the hallway. He stops at my door, opens my trap and gives me three books. What the hell?! They ain't the books I ordered, in fact the CO gave me my neighbors book order. The CO looks on the cart and no books! I'm...unhappy. But the CO (an all around decent fellow) says, "fill another order out" and he'll go fill it and bring them on the med cart. Wow. And he does it! Ha! And I got my first three choices - which never happens! Joyz! So I got a cooool b-day gift from the universe. Thank you universe. So I have two big fat James Michener novels, Texas and Hawaii as well as the fourth book in the Earth's Children series by Jean Auel, The Plains of Passage. So that's 3317 pages to read in a week if you're interested. Right now Hawaii is first up. The book begins with a king getting brained and anytime a book begins with royalty getting their brains beat out - well, that's an okay book to me!
"...do you want to know what my favorite word in the whole world is? It's not love, or peace, or money (but them's all cool). It's not toys (dear to my hearts), or even Jackie (but its nearly neck and neck!). My favorite word in the whole wide world is: ...wait for it... FLUEGELHORN! That word just makes me chuckle/snort/giggle and fills me with the urge to dance (sucker!) and shout it at the top of my lungs.
FLUEGELHORN
"Yes, I'm being silly but for the first time in a week I feel like me again. Sure, I made a bad choice but I can recover. My reputation might take a hit but I think I'll be okay. ... I'll just disappear into the belly of this concrete beast for a few months...and then I'll be burped up like a bit of undigested pot roast, ready for my next adventure!"
(end of Ani's letter) It never ceases to amaze me how he can let things like this slide off his back and come up grinning. Sure, he's been dealing with set-backs and losses all of his life so I suppose he has developed a knack of some kind that most of the rest of us simply don't have. And, if you don't really have any plans or expectations, you don't get bent out of shape when they are foiled. I can't decide if his way of looking at life is something to be sorry for or wish I had!
We've no pictures this year like last Christmas. Please feel free to share your own with us!!
Season's Greetings and Best Wishes to all Readers,
Jackie
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