just stopped by my miniscule mobile palace, handed me my statue shirt that I left at her place a while ago while caring for her pup and cat. Good to have it back – I thought it was lost and gone, somewhere in travels. She’s a delicious creature, a wonderful woman and growing to be a good friend. Each time I am able to spend time with her (few and far between in the brief time I’ve known her) I delight in fantasies of kissing her, but alas, I do believe that her delicious lips are destined for the more succulent gender. Oh, if I were fortunate enough to be a woman…

I just talked to

, she’s doing well and fine. I haven’t heard her voice in ages, and didn’t know how much I missed it until I heard her velvetspeak tonight. Her voice is the comfort I have known, a blanket of peace. The world is at her fingers, calling for her. She’ll realize this soon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In my van, motor running to support the battery and making this possible. Earlier it ran out of fuel, so I walked to the nearest gas station and filled up the gallon container, then went to the cheapest place I could find. 70 dollars bought me half a tank. Money I shouldn’t spend, but unfortunately need to. I consider it rent. I need to pay people back, and I’ll be standing my ass off come Wednesday to do so.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gods, I really don’t feel like putting down all the notes I took in jail. I’ll abreviate.

Tons of meditation. You’re in your small cell for about 22 hours a day, and the most exciting times are when you’re able to get out and eat. Breakfast was always decent – oatmeal or some cream o’ wheat kind of thang, served at 5am. “Lunch” at 11am, was hideous – some strange baloney type meat, an orange, a couple cookies all packaged up neatly in a bag. Dinner is served at 3:30, and is a hot meal, but less than desirable. We eat it because we need to. I ate because hunger is a horrible thing.

My cell mate is a guy named Chad. In on a paroll violation, the original charge was assault with a deadly weapon. His former wife was cheating on him, so he cracked her lovers head open. Planned it. Almost went down for attempted murder but pleaded lower. Did a nickel (five years) for that, and because of his paroll restrictions ended up back in jail.

I don’t even want to imagine five years locked up.

The California penal code is fucked. He’s a nice guy, made a mistake which he paid for with five years of his life. Then, on the outside, one and a half years later, he talks to a good friend of his that he plans on doing a side job with to reconstruct a bathroom. His friend was also on paroll, and gods forbid, he can’t talk to them. Can’t talk to anyone on paroll, because they may be planning more crimes.
Violation of paroll, with a possible 12 months. Just for talking to his friend about a job. Fucking absurd.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

More later, maybe.
Right now I go to Laurens’ house, a few steps way from my van, and take a glorious shower…

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