Читать книгу Sold Short In America - Richard A. Altomare - Страница 15

It's quite interesting to observe the ups and downs of solitary. Depending on multiple factors, some days you can rise above the negativity and laugh at it, and some days it hits you directly and you can feel all of the emotions that this destructive human creation can do to you. My visits with attorneys do nothing more than remind me of the cause, the price one has to pay for it and my responsibilities to all of those counting on my perseverance.

The correction officers (they hate being called guards) have all started to appreciate my low maintenance requirements. They are amazed at how fast I read books. They may start monitoring my toilet paper ordering to ensure that the books are actually being used to read and not "other uses" for that paper.

I have decided after shaving a few times to now grow a beard in prison. This is not because I have decided to burn the flag, although at times I must confess a disappointment in the judicial system. Not shaving is because the last razor given to me had been used before. I know they are supposed to dispose of used blades because of HIV possibilities, but in a system "not that exact", I have decided not to take any more chances. We had sixty-eight prisoners in solitary and over forty have been transferred today. There are no familiar faces staring out the door windows yet. No conversations. No late night serenades. One new inmate across the hall is unfortunately a drug addict. He is regularly administered methadone. The thought of us exchanging razors has caused me to go for the Don Johnson look of Miami Vice or the white full beard look, if necessary.

I don't like weekends because of the mystery meat meals in general, but also because of the one CO Grant. She's a very sweet lady, but has the loudest piercing voice I have experienced here or elsewhere. Her voice is explosive, happy, mad, argumentative but relentless. As I read or do anything, her voice just penetrates. No complaints - just an observation to continue to try to capture the sounds, moods, up and downs in case you ever are invited to visit. If you really want to visit, disagree with a Federal Judge, take out a full page New York Times ad on his actions, be unable to pay his ludicrous fines and you too can experience this vacation paradise. After all, many have gone to France, the Hamptons, Florida, and Italy etc. Have any of your friends ever raved about the mind altering experience of solitary confinement in a Federal prison for weeks upon weeks? That will help you gain control of the conversation. "Oh, so you saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa but have you ever had a toilet paper center roll in your mouth?" Have any of them lost as many pounds at any other spa? Or have they ever met such memorable characters and group showered as often?

I certainly have too much time on my hands. Well, I guess that's to be expected. I just wanted to touch on two simple topics tonight, as I dig in for a long weekend. Tomorrow I will be doing the twenty-four hour in the cell marathon added to the time after today's legal visit. I'm looking at as much as sixty hours before I speak with anyone. I am remindful of the monk who entered an order of silence, but every nine years he was permitted to speak. After nine years, he was called in to the head monks’ cell (it probably was a room, oh my God, have I been here that long?) And the head monk said, “Is there anything you would like to say?" The monk said, "Could I get a new mattress, mine has had the springs sticking out for the past five years." After the next nine years, and the same dialogue, the monk said, "Could I possibly get a pair of sandals as I have not had any sandals for seven years?" After another nine years, he announces that he had decided to quit the order. The head monk said "I am not surprised, you have been complaining ever since you got here."

So I guess today I'm complaining. My toilet bowl sometimes flushes for five minutes after flushing. I hate to waste the water, but to get on the plumbing "list" and to have that "crackerjack" repair crew that did the shower repair could possibly destroy any sense of humor or objectivity I may still have left. So with apologies to my fellow earth conscious "Green" friends, I can't risk it. I am so close to the end of my stay, I hope.

I will leave a note for the next guest when I fill out the "comment card", or when I visit the prison gift shop to purchase some of those orange suits or orange sheets as I leave. I'm sure they wouldn't miss these gift shop branding opportunities. Do you think they steal the sheets? Maybe that's why there are no pillows. The bathrobes probably went in the first few years. Now the towels are without absorption but the size of three washcloths and despite my weight loss I cannot tie it around my thigh, let alone my waist. My waist I may add is not a 30" but it's not that much more than that - so these towels are quite small. Because I have the time today (do I sound bored?), I'm going to measure it "by eye" right now. The measurements are 12" x 32" (approximate), but they are orange and that appears to be most important factor.

I experimented tonight. I decided to ask another CO how do I put my toilet paper center on the outside door knob. This has really been a keen issue with me over the past forty hours. The guard came by to ask me why the hell I would want to put a toilet paper center on my door knob. Obviously, this CO did not read the manual the other guard read. Rather than get the first guard in trouble and then, in turn, me; I decided to answer that I thought one had to do that so a case worker would know to stop when making "rounds". He walked away saying, "We don't have case workers, you mean counselors". It's going to be a long weekend for me, and I'll try to not take it out on you.

I've written long letters to every family member to avoid this diary becoming even longer than "War and Peace".

The early sounds of morning are the initial noises coming from the Day Room. Like robins on a quiet summer morning, you might hear "you get the fucking food" or just the noisy pre-delivery sounds of that same breakfast of milk, cereal and ½ an orange. The sounds of toilets flushing can be best described as engines at a NASCAR race. Each toilet is truly an eight or nine on the decibel scale similar to a motorcycle starting up next to a baby carriage and revving for a few minutes. Each flush has its own life span. Noise discretion in the middle of the night is simply not possible unless you fear flushing because of the noise and in my case the length of flush.

After arising in a damp chilly room, I awoke again before breakfast service. Remember breakfast service is a 4" x 12" slot that opens with a key and a conditioning bang. The food is coming through that slat or slot or slit. That noise is my morning alarm clock, or my robin singing in the forest. But today I wondered do I flush before the food service arrives? What if it continues "flushing" like last night’s five minutes? What if they find out it is broken? Will they send the repairmen? Will I be moved to another cell? I just got this one paper Mache′d and cleaned! My decision was to wait and then monitor the button (yes, a button because a "toilet flush arm handle", I guess, could be used as a weapon) or maybe too many inmates would get confused over whether to hang the toilet paper center on the toilet arm or the outside door knob.

One can only hypothesize on the high level executive decision which went into the button selection. Or more simply, some politically connected brother-in-law had the specifications written so that he was the only one to have a "button-flusher" (does that sound like mother-fucker?) The term could be used so that some of the inmates felt at home, "button-flusher" is indeed a unique technical term.

Before I eat today's surprising breakfast (it's the same), and while we are on politically connected friends who may benefit from the prison system not being changed; one of the inmates said in dialogue, which even this skeptical pen has difficulty absorbing, that Ms. Bush's family are directly connected to prison food delivery or food manufacturing. I just hope it's not the mystery meat! That would be a National scandal! Once Americans tasted, smelled, looked at, or even just walked by it; it would become mystery “meatgate” or “baloneygate” or “tonguegate”. I mention what the inmate said because if buttoned toilets and orange bedspreads make sense to these people - there may be a bigger political scandal. If it's not Ms. Bush (she seems so nice) let's at least get the last administration looked at. I'm sure its fingerprints or continued political financial rewards will be found out by an effective journalist examining who other than the salaried “suits” do not want to change this status-quo system. By the way, my button flusher shut off in reasonable time.

In case I may have lost you during today's early morning thought process… Well I've played a word game, exercised, ate breakfast, straightened up my room, walked about the fence limits of my Ponderosa cell, checked the other door knobs for toilet paper centers (I can't help it) and only 23 ½ hours left to read and write to you.

Some days not much happens in solitary confinement. I started reading "Sole Survivor" a mystery novel about a mysterious plane crash. A funny thing happened today. Although it doesn't seem to be a damp or cold day, I have become a freezing monk. For the first time, I am draped with my blanket because I am so cold. I don't feel sick, I'm sure I am not. But the sight of me writing to you covered with a blanket, or reading with a blanket has even resulted in some comments from the guards as they pick up lunch trays. I don't think this could be a result of weight loss, but one never knows. My window is blackened so no sunlight passes through. One of the guards sympathetically asked, "Are you going fucking crazy?" I simply responded that I was cold. Unfortunately, I have to wait to push the button for hot water tomorrow at breakfast. The interesting observation of the button used to get cold and hot water from my unique button-kitchen-bathroom unit is that it is instant and it shuts off immediately. We all have experienced those institutional faucets that you press and you almost make it to the water before it shuts off. Not this one, the second your finger is off the button, the water stops. To utilize it, one finger pushes while the other hand washes or fills up a milk container. Forget about mixing hot and cold unless you have a bunk mate who hasn't read that sexual attack brochure. It's either very hot (1 Hour) or all cold (23 hours). Today, I hope it gets warmer. Maybe the heat in the rest of the building was shut off for the long weekend. I feel like a family cat left at home when the family goes away for the weekend without the ability to adjust the thermostat.

At least they left an automatic feeder (egg, oatmeal, mystery meat and today uncooked frozen French fries). See, I told you it was cold today.