Update - I've Been Busy at the New Place

Three letters in a week. I work with James at the central warehouse for DOC. It supplies all the food and supplies for the facilities in the southern half of Colorado (or something to that effect). Incidentally, this job is the reason I haven't been writing, it takes too much out of me. I used to spend about 4 hours a morning writing, re–writing, and generally despising whatever blog entry I happened to be focusing on. I just can't do that when I already have so many other things going on. It's like how Bukowski didn't write anything when he was a postal clerk. Some people just need time and space, I think. To work with their mind, I mean.

Back to the letter, I think James is pretty cool. He really reminds me of a friend I had in middle school, Artie. The first time he really talked to me (James, not Artie), we were being searched after coming back from work, and James said, in a slightly crazed voice and plainly audible to the guards, "What's that, Day? You're fitting to kill me?"

He was plainly joking and talking in a cartoon–y voice. I played along somehow, I can't remember. We were cracking up. James is a small–statured black dude who carries himself in such a way that he looks bigger than he really is. He told me how he used to play Super Smash Bros. with the scariest thugs you could imagine. Girls would come over, ready to party, and then they'd be confronted with this sight of face–tatted men from hell—playing Smash Bros. and really getting into it. It's such a funny vision. I can totally see the girls scoffing or giving each other sideways glances.

James has a funny nickname, it’s Munchie. At first I thought this was some sort of mildly racial thing, it almost sounded like he said his nickname was 'monkey', and I thought, 'that's kind of weird.' But it actually refers to the fact that he used to be constantly high, and eating. So he was the living embodiment of the munchies, I guess. But he's thin as a rail, so the name isn't apparent, and he thinks that's funny. I told him he should call himself "The Baron Von Munchhausen," and he liked that way better. So how I call him Baron, which is similar to Brown. It's almost like an accented pronunciation of Brown.

It's really funny to make James laugh, because he literally comes from a dark past, the whole 9 yards, gangs, guns, drugs, the works. He's done it. And he's told me things I won't repeat. But making him laugh is funny, because the simplest things make him laugh, all I have to do is say whatever I'm thinking out loud, and he laughs for minutes on end.

We were eating lunch, and the bread was all crumpled up, every sack lunch had this-fucked up bread, and no one commented on it because every sack lunch-is---- an exercise in sadness, they're disgusting, mysteriously wet, and have some disgusting lunchmeat that looks like a factory by-product. We were talking about some other thing and I caught sight of someone trying to make a sandwich out of it, and I just said, "what is with this bread."

And he laughed. He couldn't stop laughing. He had his head on the table laughing, and then he went to the bathroom because he was starting to tear from his eyes, and when I thought he was only washing his hands I heard him suddenly laugh more. Somehow I'm the only person who makes him laugh like this.

I told him how I can't stand sports. I can't take them seriously. Like, every time I would try to play some sport in middle school or high school, I couldn't help but think, "man, this is a lot of work for a ball."

And he couldn't stop laughing at that. "Man you're making me feel like a dog. Seriously. Running around for a damn ball."

And I'm like, "Seriously, man. Everyone's really interested in what that ball is doing. It's so weird." He cracks up, even more.

And it's so dumb, I think I'm jealous of the ball, really. I tell him this, and it's the funniest fucking thing in the world. Like, thousands of people are watching the ball. All the sports--it's all balls. We're obsessed with an inanimate object.

And then you've got people yelling at the ball, their veins are popping out of their faces, they're about to have a heart attack, and when it's all over they feel like they had fun! They bring dates to watch them do this, and the dates think, "Yeah, okay, I'll stick around with this guy. He yells at balls."

Alright, I'm done. So, he wrote a letter to Tony Carochi, who is the assistant director of DOC. There's a lot of truth in what James is mentioning, although he doesn't list specifics. The AR he mentions (AR stands for administrative regulation) has the following value statements: 1) Our staff is our greatest resource, 2) we support a professional, empowered workforce that embodies honesty, integrity, and ethical behavior, 3) we honor and respect the rights of victims, 4) we respect the individual differences of our staff and offender populations, and seek to safeguard—the-safety-; dignity, and wellbeing of all, 5) we strive to deliver correctional services with optimal efficiency, 6) we engage in effective correctional practices that produce measurable outcomes, 7) we are committed to exceptional customer service, 8) we are dedicated to providing opportunities for offender success, and 9) our success is achieved through mission—focused collaboration.

His letter also briefly mentions a new AR that is about to come into effect starting in September. DOC is going to ban all pornographic material from offender possession, period. They won't even let saucy letters from girlfriends (or boyfriends, I guess) come into the facility. No pictures will be allowed that do not conform to the same standards that visitors to the prison are subjected to regarding dress. This means that even bathing suit pictures are not okay, or negligee pictures, or even mini-skirt pictures.

Now, I think this is sort of creepy. I mean, I think society has a fairly good understanding that sexual deviancy occurs when a person is deprived of a regular and healthy sexual outlet, and inmates are already deprived of this.

So, honestly, I think this will result in bad things. 

Like, I think that the reason so many Catholic priests are kid-touchers is because of the celibacy vow. It's because of the heightened sense of guilt and shame associated with sexual things. I think the brain finds a way to work around his celibacy. The sexual urge is linked with the reproductive urge, which is linked with the survival urge. So if sexual things are bad, then his brain makes the appropriate changes necessary to find bad things sexually attractive. And the rest is merely opportunity. It's all going to be bad when this happens, I absolutely believe it.

Alright, on to the letter.