Day 35 - 7/27/21 - Tues
- mainemoviepirate
- Jul 28
- 3 min read
Actual Journal Entry:
“In some ways, I don’t like it here. I mean, it is a Prison. So I don’t know if anyone, given a choice, wants to be here. But why do so many come back? If my case had been about anything else besides copyright, I would have pleaded guilty and served very little or no jail time. So I accept my fate: I must make the most of it, learn what I can, and write what I can. It does have me thinking about the Prison Industrial Complex. More even than copyright reform (which no one seems to give a f*ck about). Maybe someday I’d like to really research private prisons—the whole history, current state of, and attack (politically, of course) any politicians who are paving the way for private prison growth and, really, even their existence. Maybe. We’ll see. First, I have to get out, make money to survive and be able to do what I want to do, and maybe I’ll pursue Prison Reform. If I did it through a corporation (non-profit) or a foundation, it might be more effective and, honestly, safer.
BREAKFAST: Standard. Ate the cereal (wish I hadn’t), took the apple.
Now in the Library, writing. Saw the Camp Counselor; got the rundown on visits, mail, rules, etc. T. got approved for visits. I’ll see it when I believe it, I guess. No matter. I’ve got Holly Hope (such a King concept) that I’ll be out by Christmas. I’ll write her a letter regardless.
LUNCH: Chicken Sandwich, though not as good as the first one (one week ago, today). Bread Pudding (which I ate again—that’s okay, I’m walking tonight!). No matter what. Can’t recall the rest of the menu.
SUPPER: Some kind of steak, mixed with seasonings & Onions/Green Pepper. Beans, white Rice, bread. Ate it all, except the onions & green pepper. Put bread in reserve.”
Notes for Day 35 (Four Years Later)
One week into my Camp stay, the “freedom” from the SHU was wearing off, and depression was starting to set in. The Wellbutrin helped, but the shock from that for a few weeks washed away any good ‘feelings.’ It’s funny how I had almost expected my direct appeal to be successful and that I’d be home by Christmas. “Holly Hope,” indeed. That, of course, comes from the Stephen King books, a phrase his character uses to affirm herself, expressing hope that everything will turn out okay in the end. I said it as a joke to myself, but my ‘Holly Hope’ turned out to be more of a fiction than Stephen King’s. This was, in fact, the lowest part of my incarceration, or I should say when I felt the most hopeless. But soon, as I started doing different projects—legal work and creative writing—everything would change. And no, I wasn’t out by Christmas. In fact, I spent many holidays there. Christmas and other family-oriented holidays are dark days in prison for many inmates.
Finally, Prison Reform. This was the first time I started thinking about that. Now that I’ve been out for more than a year, I still think about pursuing this from time to time. Maybe someday it will move past the ‘thinking about’ phase. But that, too, might be my version of ‘Holly Hope.’
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