December 7 (Day 41)

Never got any sleep again last night.  This has been going on for about a week now and the nurse refuses to give me anything for anxiety or let me see the doctor.  Even if I could sleep tonight, I probably won’t cause they put a new guy in the next cell and he snores really loud.  He’s in doug’s room.  Doug got sent to medium today.  It just won’t be the same without him but after this last year, I’m pretty used to people coming and going suddenly.

It turned out to be an interesting day though.  I was talking to the nurse about my parole application, and she said they were concerned about a letter I sent to Zeke.  They’re going to have a shrink come in and talk to me tomorrow.  They think I’m crazy.  This letter is probably the reason I didn’t get sent to medium last week as I had expected.  Nobody understands me.  Poor me.  Maybe tomorrow they’ll send me to the nuthouse.  Tonight I sent a letter to Santa Clause so that should stir things up.  Life is an adventure and I might as well enjoy it.

December 8 (Day 42)

Last night I was able to sleep – what a relief.  At breakfast (and at all the meals now) everybody was making jokes about me being crazy which I find amusing.

I expected to be sent to Hillsborough [Provincial Mental Hospital] today, but things didn’t turn out as I had planned.  I thought that getting sent to the nuthouse would be interesting material for a book if I ever write one.  So, they sent the shrink in to see me.  He had the letter to my dog and also the letter to [my son] (which was quite silly).  He asked a lot of questions about whether I could differentiate reality from fantasy.  I played along with him, telling him that my dog is the only one that I trust and evading most of his questions.  I think he concluded that I am not insane, but just a weirdo druggie.  And so, it looks like I will remain here.  Nobody understands me.  Poor me.

I called home tonight and spoke to my mother and [my son].  My mother doesn’t expect me to get out until next December.  I hope she’s wrong about that.  I asked [my son] to write a letter to me from Zeke, then they’ll know I’m not crazy. Ha ha ha ha ha

December 9 (Day 43)

Today I hate this fucking place.  They haven’t taken us to the library yet this week, and now they say we can’t go tonight.  We’ve only gotten there once in the last two weeks.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here if I can’t even read.

We got some new guys in and every evening the fucking idiots watch wrestling.  They think it’s real.  And everybody thinks I’m nuts.  This morning I thought they were going to put me in observations.  Obviously, I convinced some of these simple minded guards that I am crazy.  Infidels.

Finally, I got to see the doctor so I should be getting something at night to help me sleep.

I called Wayne this evening.  I asked him if he got the letter I sent him about 3 weeks ago.  He said that he never got it.  This is really pissing me off.  I don’t know if any of my letters are being sent.  If they won’t send my mail at least, they should tell me so and give me reasons why.

Tonight, I wrote my first short story, a kind of silly tale about this place and the guys in here mixed with fantasy.  I don’t know what to title it yet but I like it and I’m proud of it even if it is silly.  I’m getting a lot of flak for writing to the dog but that’s ok.  At least they’ll know who I am.  Or will they?

December 10 (Day 44)

I must have fallen asleep before 6:00 this morning cause that’s when George (guard) came and woke me up.  I didn’t know what the fuck was going on.  I had to go to admitting and give a urine test.  I hope it’s clean cause if not it could fuck up my parole.  I hope to get the results tomorrow.

Today went by reasonably well.  They gave me back the dog letter and said that they sent Steven’s letter.  But I have yet to find out if any of the others were actually sent.  I’m not sure now what to say if I write a letter.  Big brother is watching me.  If I could, I’d try and set a record for most positive pee tests, but it really wouldn’t do me much good, wouldn’t get me out of here any sooner.

Another visiting day today and still no visits.  It would be nice if Doug’s friend came to see me but perhaps it’s not meant to be.  I’d also like to see somebody from Talbot House, especially Irene.  She understands me better than anyone I know.  I’d feel bad if she abandoned me.  I had to rewrite my plans for the parole application today.  Hopefully, it’s on its way at last.

Last night, I wrote a song, almost two songs which I’m sort of proud of.  I should put more time into writing. It can only benefit me.