Friday, September 02, 2005

Diary of My Thoughts

August 25th 2005

I'm dreaming about the kind of love I want (NEED?) from a woman again. I don't want to get out of bed. I was dreaming of someone who is very famous, a sex symbol, who has had a lot of plastic surgery..........she's not what I like at all!! It was a symbolism for everything I DON'T LIKE, but I guess it was the extreme case to overcome!
I took her to this very small room (closet?) and I turned out the light. Then I said, "With no adoring eyes upon camera's to play with....nothing, but who you are inside...that's what I want of you. I want the inner person who hides behind the persona you project. I want to understand, and know the person you really are.........the one you're afraid to be. THAT'S the person who's heart I want to be trusted with......and I want to mean more than your fame and vanity.........more than your selfish desires to fuck someone who interests you.........I want you to love me more than all of that.
I want love...........YOUR LOVE FOR ME, to mean more than anything else that life has to offer you.
She cried, and I wiped away the tear from her cheek. (At that point the door was open, and we could see). It was "us" standing there looking out at the world waiting for her to come back out.) I put my forehead to hers and said, "I'm here, waiting for you to leave it all for my love."
I realised two important things.
1) I've yet to find a woman like that, and the three I've truly loved all left me for their selfish desires
2.) I'm already wanting (looking for?) that kind of love.
I'm moving on.......accepting the fact that my latest love just wasn't who I thought she was.
Yeah, it still hurts. I'll never get over the betrayal and I don't like her excuse that I was "only interested in money." But, they ALWAYS have to justify their guilt......and I'm used to it, and allow them to do or say what they want. They ALL know the truth, and if they want to continue to project a false reality, so others will see them in a better light, they'll never find real happiness. Experience has already shown me ..........the first love of my life hasn't ever remarried, and hasn't loved like she did with me, ever since. She's alone, and fills loneliness with sex. The second one is separated from the person she left me for.......because "love" isn't enough for her.
So, I already know how these people will live their life, and (unless they learn a better way) they will never be happy.
I'm sad for them, and sad for myself. But I will continue to look for that "real" woman.........and fill my life with friends until then. My time is to short to spend in heartache and misery.
"Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create that fact" William James

26th August 2005 AM
So far in a hole the opening looks like a full moon on a midnight sky. Memories spiral down flooding the minds eye with ghosts from the past, or perhaps from a dream from long ago.
Its hard to tell what is real, and what isn't any more. So far in a hole that the dead are above my existence, and they come calling me to remember a journey once shared.
So far in a hole that the dead are closer to me than the living..........but, still above my place in this world. Is this hell? Is this another type of death? Limbo?
Purgatory? So, so far down in a hole. Is it any wonder why no one wants to get too close to me?
Who would want to bury themselves in my existence just to keep me company? "Please love me?" "Hell no, holeboy!" "Please?" "Get lost"!
"Get lost?" Ha! I already am, far down in a hole? Who'll find me? Some future generation on an excavation team? What will they make of it, a man far down in a hole? What surmised story will they tell about me? That I was sacrificed to the ideals of a barbaric society in the early 21st century? How quaint!
Yeah, but.......true? Hmmmmm...funny, the things one conjures up so far in a hole.

August 26th 2005 PM
It's almost midnight. I'm listening to the country station (local) that I'm able to pick up on sub ariel bands on my TV. Its the only way to listen to music without headphones in here.
They no longer allow radios with speakers.
Today was commissary day, so I've got a full belly, a steaming cup of coffee and a smoke burning in the ashtray. I smoke regular, and they sent me menthol. TASTES like shit.........yet, I'm smoking it. I had quit for three weeks............then "SHE" told me she was in love with my best friend. I smoked 9 ounces of tobacco from the end of that phone call until that Friday (August 1st to August 5th)
Of course, I had not smoked so much if I could've slept. I ran on adrenaline for those five days.
I slept 6 hours in those first four nights: NO sleep the first 2 nights, and then 1.30am to 3am the last two nights. I smoked one cigarette after another. The night of the 6th (Sat), I slept 14 hours straight.
My body just crashed, and my mind finally got its chance to work shit out.
"SHE" left me so broke, and unable to make money by painting, because I used up all my materials for the paintings I sent to her. So, I reached out to friends and was sent $50 from one friend, and $100 from another. So, today, I've probably eaten over 5,000 calories in junk food. Watched football and ate all night.
Earlier, I went to recreation and sat there talking on the phone for 45 minutes.......then played cards and won $2.30. I've lost $6.50 (2.50 and 4.00) in two I won some of it back. But, since August 1st..... I'm up about $25. I've been living on my winnings, smokes, coffee and stamps.
After rec, I wrote "So far in a hole"........and then cleaned my cell. Got a letter from a friend of mine on the row. He told me things I wanted to know about other people, and generally just let me know I am not alone. At least one of my friends understands honor and integrity.
I received a card, or a letter, 4 of the past five it has been a good week.
When commissary came, I received my 22x28 chip boards, and cut one into 4- 11x14 and put canvas on all 4 of them. I painted skies on each one....getting them ready for the landscapes I'll do. I'll do all four of them over the weekend, and send them to my friend. She'll sell them and send me the money. I've already done 7 paintings this month, a 16"x20" landscape, 11"x14" landscape, 11"x14" floral (x2), 7"x7" floral with butterfly, and 11x14 (expression by collage of symbols), and one on the handmade cover of my dictionary. Only three of them will be sold..the others where for friends............and the dictionary just NEEDED something on the back cover.
If I can't make some money painting, I'm just screwed. I'll be back to living on $18.00 a month. But, I know I'm good enough to support myself. Even if I have to paint 10 a month to make a profit, I think I'll do okay.
Never thought I would see the day when I'd be this alone in here. My friends chipped in to pick me up off my ass...but now I have to stand on my own two feet and be self reliant. Thats hard to do from a cell on death row, (at least in an honest way!) and I still have to rely on my friends to SELL the paintings FOR ME!!
I'll get these 4 done, and in the mail on Monday morning. I'll just have to see what happens with these 4, and the other 3. I'll know soon enough where I stand.
What a strange existence this is. My life has been a strange journey. I wonder what purpose I have in God's plan. You ever think He's just "winging it"? (smile) You really have to sit back and wonder where we're going! Well, Lord, here I am.........pick me up, and lead me into tomorrow.
Night ya'll!!!
27th August 2005 PM
What would I do without my friends? Since life just took a huge crap in my lap, my friends have picked me up off my rear end and put me back on my feet. I was left broke, and with no art supplies to even try to get back on my feet. Then, 2 of my friends sent me some money. ($150 between them), and they're going to sell my paintings for me. I can only do so much, and then I need to find a market for my artwork.
But, that is just what I have to do to live, and man can't live on bread alone. My friends were there to pick up the pieces when I found my world torn to bits. They listened when I had to express the hurt, heartache, and grief. They filled my emptiness with their emotional needs, and made me feel like I was needed. They leaned on me, and they knew how to make me feel strong. They never made me feel weak when I expressed how hurt I was. They know who I am, and they knew I'd reached down inside of myself and deal with it.
When my son died, it was my friend in Scotland who relayed the message to me. She heard the heartache and pain as his mother completely broke down on the phone. She heard me be strong and reach out to my ex wife, and as I talked to my kids, my other son and daughter. I once read that......"great tragedies are the bonfire in which trivial hardships are burned!!"
The loss of my girl and my best friend was consumed in the death of my son. What I thought to be the heartache of all heartaches was completely overshadowed. God has a way of making me feel silly.
My brother flew home from the U.K to bury my son. He and Jeffrey were like brothers, and grew up together. It made me feel a lot better that my brother will be there. Jeffrey was buried in my hometown, on the banks of the Ohio River.
My friend in Ohio ordered flowers in my name and had them sent to the funeral home. How's that for friendship? It meant the world to me.
I believe in honor and integrity. I believe in love, and in the truth. I believe in God, because anything less means there's no purpose to life. I believe in forgiveness, even if it's undeserved.........because its the only way to heal the wrongs done to you. And though this world is full of hate and violence, I believe in the love in mankind. My proof in the love of mankind has come in the way of friendship, when all I wanted to do was die.
I may, or may not, be executed, but I'll live my life until it all plays out. And, I'll have REAL friends until my time comes. I may, or may not ever know REAL love again.... but I'll know the love of friends until the day I die. To "Scotland" and "Ohio"........I thank you for being who you are!!!!!!!

28th August 2005
I'm listening to my country music station. Every Sunday, they play the old classic country songs in the morning from 6.15 am to 9am..........then play classics again from 9pm to midnight. Right now, the top 20 country songs are being counted down to the number 1 song of the week.
I didn't listen to country music as a teen, but I grew up in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, so I KNOW country and bluegrass music. Now, that I'm older, I like reminds me of home and family.
Have you ever watched "The Deer Hunter"? It was filmed in the Mingo Junction, Ohio....and that's where most of my family was born and raised.
The bar where the characters hangout at, is where my grandmother worked when my mother was a kid.
All of my friends' fathers worked in the mines, steel and mills, drove coal trucks, or worked on the railways.
I grew up about 50 miles down the Ohio River from there, but spent many of my childhood summers in the hills behind (west of) Mingo Junction at various relatives' but mostly my great aunt's.
So, every Sunday, I listen to the classics, and I get to spend time remembering people I love, and cherished times spent with them. And the one image I'll always remember is my grandmother in her kitchen, and she had a spice rack with a built in AM radio, and the high lonesome sounds of bluegrass crooners playing over the sizzle of bacon every Sunday morning......AFTER the Sunday hymns!
I remember my mother pointing out a brick chimney in the woods on a hillside, and explaining that it was what's left of the house she used to live in. And further down the road, she pointed out a little country church, and told me it was a 2 room school house she went to as a kid.
I loved these stories, and if I have any regrets (and believe me I do!), I regret that I never got the chance to pass these stories on to my kids, and give them a sense of "self", who they are and where they came from.
I listen to Allison Krauss and Vince Gill and my heart sits in my throat, and I'm lost in bitter sweet memories. I miss the dew drops strung on spider webs, like pearls, on my way to my favorite fishing hole. I miss the scent of ivy and honeysuckle hanging in the humid evening air on a Summer night. I miss lying on my back in a raft in the middle of the lake with no one within miles of it. I miss the magical encounters with wild life while alone in the woods. I miss the beavers warning slap of his tale on the water, and in interrupting his work, as I fished on his lake. And, I miss telling these things to my mother.
Bluegrass music came from Celtic music, as the Irish and Scots settled in the Appalachians.
My great, great grandfather was a McIntyre, and he came from those Irish/Scot settlers. And I'm proud of where I come from.
General George Washington, long before he was the first president of the US, recruited the "Irish Scotch" (as they where called) to fight with him, because of their reputations as fierce fighting men.
Ever heard of the Hatfield/McCoy fued? The McCoys were obviously descendants of those "Irish Scotch"
I miss the hills of home. I miss "home". So I listen to country music and hold dear the memories, and remember who I am in this place of sensory deprivation.
I'm a hillbilly who's seen a lot of the US and lived on the ocean shores, and the big cities like Philadelphia, St Louis, Kansas City and Columbus, Ohio. I'm educated well enough, and I now how to survive on the streets too. But make no mistake about it, I'm a hillbilly, and proud of it!
I've been with women from all backgrounds.....but, give me a beautiful, country tomboy, any day!!!
And, if she can sing like Allison Krauss, I'll know I've died and gone to heaven.
"Country Roads...............take me home" John Denver
Ohio Death Row Inmate


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