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Old 12-05-2003, 06:02 PM
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Post John's Diary Part 2; "the Death Of Hollywood"


November 13, 2003

For those of you who read my last entry,
the loud speaker didn't tear me from my sleep this morning.
Some beautiful soul used a broomstick to disconnect the speaker wires and for my part...
I wish him a Merry Christmas and early parole!

The last month has flown by
and for most prisoners,
that might be considered a blessing.
I'm not so sure about it though;
even time spent being persecuted
is time from my life
and I'm not in any real hurry
for my life to end.

There are moments even in this hell hole
that I am content, if not happy.
I continue to pursue an education and this gives me pride in myself,
not only because I'm succeeding,
but succeeding with excellence.
I take pleasure in reading a good book,
or tasting a cup of coffee,
or writing, or drawing
and using the right side of my brain,
which takes me far away from here.

Granting, these small pleasures pale when
compared to loving a woman,
eating fresh fruit
and privacy;
I'll take a warm hug over
a cup of coffee anyday,
but the reality is,
I haven't had a comforting touch
from a fellow human being in
more than ten years.
So for now,
I must appreciate the cup of coffee
or become hopelessly depressed.

This isn't always the case
I'm not immune to hopelessness.
I continually fight against it,
but the darkness wins sometimes.
At this moment I have hope,
and this moment is all that seems to matter.

To reinforce my mortality,
the man in the cell two doors down,
died earlier this month.
He was known by the nickname,
I don't know his real name as it's a rare prisoner
who's referred to by their real name,
but he was too young to die,
and he died unnecessarily.
I hope his family gets millions
of the state's money!

They first diagnosed it as a pulled muscle.
They accused him of exagerating the pain,
and as he rode by my cell everyday in a
wheelchair pushed by a nurse,
I could hear the nurse bitching at him
for turning her into a taxi driver.

His knee became more swollen each day,
but it was still a pulled muscle...
Reluctantly, they sent him to a
medical unit 2 weeks after
the mysterious injury occured.
At the medical unit the pulled muscle
finally let loose and KILLED HIM.
It wasn't a pulled muscle of course,

If there is one place in the world
I never want to become sick,
it's in a Texas Prison.
I really, really, don't want to
need medical care in here,
because the nightmare stories are endless!

Over the past ten years,
the medical care has improved considerably,
because the Federal Courts finally stepped in
and ended some fo the abuse;
but make no mistake,
Texas isn't happy about providing
adequate healthcare for prisoners
and the resentment is crystal clear everytime
I visit the infirmary.
There, the medical staff would
obviously prefer treating human beings
instead of prisoners.

I once injured my wrist and the pain was so strong
it kept me from sleep.
I went to the infirmary and the nurse
looked at my wrist,
but refused to let me see the doctor because,
"I don't see anything wrong with it."
She spitefully said.

They do have an X-ray machine here,
but these wonderful nurses,
who needs an X-ray?

If I ever do have a serious injury,
I hope it's bloody,
messy and very obvious.
I don't want to die around a bunch
of cold, unfeeling entities
the way HOLLYWOOD did!

I cross my fingers against
kidney stones or appendicitis,
those invisible but grusomely painful injuries.
There will be no shots of morphine in this prison,
I can only pray for Tylenol.

So, I don't like the weeks and months
rolling by too quickly,
I'm in no hurry to become the
next horror story like

Life in Prison can be pure misery,
but it is life and
where there's life
there's HOPE, Right?

Until next time...

Peace & Chocolate,

Died on October 28th, 2003 [In The Texas Prison]
He will not be forgotten; may He rest in peace!


If you would like to write to John,
or know more about him,
Here is his address:

TDCJ# 768543
Prison Unit; Coffield
Rt. 1, Box 150,
Tenn. Colony, TX 75884
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