More of my unabridged prison diary….

Preface: Immediately after being sentenced to 7-to-25 years in prison in October of 1993, I spent four months in the county jail before being transferred on 17 February 1994 to the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Correction’s inmate reception center at Lorain Correctional Institution in Grafton.  I will get to the county jail journals later.  But for now we will pick up where we left off, on day eight (24 February) of my three month stay at Lorain.

Please read the previous installments first, if you haven’t already:

Part 1: 17-21 February 1994
Part 2: 21 February 1994 (continued)
Part 3: 22-23 February 1994

Finally, here’s Part 4:

Thurs. 24 Feb. 1994
post 7:20 a.m.

Last night, for the first time in years, I had a dream about Laura Frederick.  She didn’t really appear in it.  I only called her on the phone.  When she realized who it was, she sounded as though she was about to cry.  I kept laying the phone down and doing other things.  When I’d go back to the phone, I’d say “Hello.”  She would still be on the line and would say “Hello,” too.  Then I would say “I’m sorry.”  This kept happening; but neither of us seemed to have anything more to say.  In the meantime, Mike and Barb were sitting in the same room as I and arguing.
    I also dreamt of Mike, Uncle Tom, Cousin Dave and Jim Lively.  They wanted to go out and party.  I declined the invitation.  Then in the wee hours of the morning, after daylight, I went looking for them.  I found them at Jim Lively’s house.  It wasn’t the same house he lives in, however.  A bunch of kids were in a huge swimming pool in the yard.  Jim’s mom was in the yard, too.  I asked for my brother.  She said to go in the house.  I came to Jim’s closed door and said, “What’s the word, fellas?”  Sounds of “Shhh!” came from within.  I assured them his parents were awake and outside.  The door didn’t open.  No other conversation took place.  And the dream ended.  There was more to it, especially at the beginning; but I cannot remember now.

*  *  *

9:15 a.m.

I would also like to get sunglasses, gloves, and a stocking cap at commissary.  We’ll see if I get any more money before I go.

*  *  *

9:45 a.m.

I just wrote a two-page letter to Aunt Marlene.  However, I won’t be able to mail it until I get embossed envelopes from commissary.

*  *  *

c. 10 a.m.

I wish I would have known when I was to be transferred.  I could have sent my excess shit home with Pam on visiting day and saved on the UPS charges.  Plus, I would have had her or Mom bring me some embossed envelopes.  I don’t know why the county jail only allows you to have felt-tip pens, while this place lets you have anything but felt-tip pens to write with.
    I hope I don’t run out of paper before commissary.  Maybe I shouldn’t have given Jeff [my last cellie at the county jail] that extra legal pad.  But he was nearly out of paper while I had plenty.  If I would’ve known they wouldn’t let me have my felt-tip pens, I would have left them with him.  I was in such a rush that day, I didn’t remember to leave him my stamps.  I only had three anyway.  I did leave all my cosmetics and candy, as well as nearly a hundred envelopes.  I hope he gave Mike whatever he needed.
    The ground is covered with snow again.
    Fuck yoga.  I want my mind to work, not be vacant.  Alexander Pope said, “Know then thyself; presume not God to scan. / The proper study of mankind is man.”  Amen.

*  *  *

c. 10:30 a.m.

Nichiren Daishonin did the same thing for Buddhism that Caitanya Mahaprabhu did for Krishna Consciousness.  He made it easier for the common people to embrace and practice.  However, both sacrificed what was most significant in the teachings of their predecessors (Gautama Buddha and Sri Krishna).  To me, they vulgarized their religions, making them less transcendental.  The apostle Paul similarly raped the message of Jesus in order to achieve a wider following.

*  *  *

post 11 a.m.

attempt at a song for Dave

Underground fire
Passion for hire
You are my blood
My only desire

    A night spent with me
        You won’t regret
    A burning for you 
        I won’t forget
    And gladly for love
        I’d give my soul
    This yearning for you
        I can’t control

Here in the flame
There is no shame
Longing so strong
Cannot be a game
Love is a dart
Shoot at my heart
Enter my soul
And never depart

    A life spent with me
        You won’t regret
    This promise to you
        I won’t forget
    I see your pure eyes
        In all I do
    And all that I am 
        Belongs to you

*  *  *

post 12:30 p.m.

Walking to and from lunch, I nearly froze my dick off.  The wind was a frigid whore.
    Why my former cellie spells his name “Jeffery” instead of “Jeffrey” is beyond me.

*  *  *

post 3:20 p.m.

I wrote to Jeff, then to Mother Jamuna, whose address Jeff had given me.  These letters, too, must wait until commissary.
    A bunch of guys in here got moved to regular housing today.  They were replaced by new inmates.  Among the fresh meat is John Malone, with whom I played cards at the county jail.  (He was the one with the crooked deck.)
    I also finished my second reading of Bhagavad-gita As It Is.  Now what am I gonna do?

*  *  *

4 p.m.

I just wrote a letter to M.V.

*  *  *

7:25 p.m.

I just read a tract that my cellie had.  It is “Eternity — Where Shall it Find Me” by Dwight L. Moody.  I must be getting desperate for reading matter!
    After supper, John asked me if I had any cigarettes.  I said no and he handed me one.  Maybe I’ll be able to trade it tomorrow for something to read.
    I just began reading something else I got from my cellie.  It is the March/April 1994 issue of a periodical named Today: The Family Altar.  The thirty-one page-long selections for March are written by Rev. David Feddes.  His topic is “Were You There?”  Each day’s reading centers on a different person or group who was part of Jesus’ crucifixion scene.  That’s a neat idea.

*  *  *

8:45 p.m.

I just finished reading “Were You There.”  April’s collection is entitled “Living the Resurrected Life” and was written by Dr. John Van Regenmorter.  I just began reading it.  The author says that all references to “the divine power of Christ” are scratched out of Thomas Jefferson’s personal Bible.  I find that extremely interesting.  You’d certainly increase the New Testament’s percentage of fact and decrease its percentage of opinion by doing such a thing.

*  *  *

8:55 p.m.

The lights go out here at nine in the evening and come on again at six in the morning.  Both Benjamin Franklin and A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada insist that nine hours of sleep is far too much.  I wonder if that’s true.

* * * * *