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Letter to prison - 03-16-05
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Dear Bill,
Hey, I hope you enjoyed the pictures I sent and weren’t bummed out by them. They certainly bum me out a bit when, for one thing, I realize that Becka’s a grandmother now. But it’s also nice to know that we go back a long, long time.
I’ve had a lot on my plate the last week or so, and I wanted to take a minute to tell you what’s going on. I was arrested in Minneapolis on 5 August of last year for DWI. They let me go the next day without me having to post bail, and I got a letter in the mail a couple of weeks later saying that my driving privileges in Minnesota were revoked until I paid $680 and took an assessment and various and sundry other chores. I figured I’d really dodged a bullet on that one. I sold my truck the day I got out of jail at a pretty hefty loss and moved ahead with my life.
I got a letter last week from Hennepin County in Minnesota saying that they’re charging me with a second degree gross misdemeanor DWI for that incident. They even had a court date of 16 March that I was supposed to appear for and face the wrath of the state for my sins. I called the number on the summons and talked to the lady, and she pushed the date ahead to 1 April and said she’d check it out and see if I could just do all this through the mail and pay a fine and let that be that.
I got a call back from her on Monday saying that it was more serious than she’d thought, because there were two priors on my record from Texas. She said that there are mandatory sentencing guidelines recently imposed by the state legislature in Minnesota requiring me to spend thirty days in custody and sixty days under electronic monitoring there in Minneapolis. However, I don’t live in Minnesota anymore. I called Legal Rights (the legal aid type folks there for indigents like me), and I’m still awaiting a call back from them.
My first impulse is to just let them put out a bench warrant and have that be an additional excuse to never return to the Frozen North. I suppose I may still do that, but I have some concerns I have to ponder first before making any decision along those lines. I don’t want to have a situation where I’m afraid to get pulled over in Texas or renew my driver’s license or any of that. My sister used to be a parole officer in Waco, and she said the only thing I need to worry about is the potential for them to upgrade the charge in Minnesota to a felony. I am still concerned about the potential for them to upgrade the charge and make all my fears come true about this stuff.
I’m not really that concerned about spending a month in jail, either here or there. And I hate the idea that I could never return to Minnesota without the fear of doing time. I may very well choose to live there again in the future after my father passes away. I don’t know why I would, but I’d hate to deny myself that option just to avoid spending a month in county jail. I could do that standing on my head, even though it wouldn’t be particularly entertaining. I just don’t like having that in the back of my mind. But I also don’t see any reason to volunteer for any of that if I really don’t plan to return, and why set myself up for a lengthy probation and all the attendant hassles here in Texas if I don’t need to do so?
I’ll know more in a few days when I’ve had time to speak to an attorney about all of this, but for a day or so I was really in a tailspin over it and feeling like a real fuck-up about the whole thing. I’d appreciate your thoughts on this stuff, even if I ignore them in the end. I just have this fear of all this stuff rearing its ugly head at some point and biting me in the ass in the distant, or not distant, future.
The one thing I know I can do is not worry about it until it becomes an immediate concern and to let the attorney do his job once I’ve consulted with him about it. My understanding is that the attorney can make the first appearance in my stead and delay this entire thing a bit longer. I also have my father to lean on in the sense that he requires me here in order to remain able to live at home and maintain some measure of independence. My principle worry is that I remain able to drive and renew my license without the nagging fear that the next traffic stop will send me back up north to face more serious consequences. I may copy this letter to my friend Josh there at Wynne Unit as well and get his thoughts on it too. I respect both of your opinions on this kind of thing, as I know you each have a unique perspective on it.
Enough of that for the moment.
I’ll be leaving for Dallas tomorrow, Thursday, for the weekend. I’m attending the Texas Bear Round-Up. I feel silly as hell going to it. It’s nothing but a hotel full of fat, hairy queers getting together from around the country for no other reason than that they are all fat, hairy queers or guys who like same said ursine homos. I mean, what sort of hurdles do you have to jump to join a group like that? Just let yourself go and have another helping of Blue Bell, for Christ sake! What’s the overarching philosophical paradigm for a group like that? It sounds like nothing but a fat, hairy fuckfest for nerdy guys who got picked on in school and then suddenly realized they’re a hot commodity.
A friend of mine is running the show, and he signed me up for it a month ago when he picked me up from the airport on my return from Minnesota. He paid my registration and is sharing his room with me at the hotel, and it’s a nice gig, actually. We’re on the 21st floor of the Crowne Plaza Hotel at the Market Center in Dallas. It’ll be nice to get away for three or four days, and Dad will be fine while I’m gone. I may even have a little fun while I’m there. If nothing else, I’ll read Don Quixote and relax in the room and watch television and stay off the internet for a few days.
The one hitch in all this is that Matt’s new boyfriend will be there with a group of friends from Minneapolis. Wouldn’t you know it. I can’t get away from all that mess even a thousand miles away. He apparently travels a lot and makes a bunch of these events. I have little feeling about him one way or the other, and I should probably shake his hand and thank him; but I’m also not exactly his biggest fan. In spite of the fact that anyone could be in his shoes, he’s still the guy Matt left me for, and I don’t particularly like him or want to see him. I’ll be fine with that, however. And I’m glad that at least Matt won’t be there with him. I’ve just been chewing on it today and adding it to the pile of stuff on my plate that gives me reason to feel grumpy.
Enough about that as well.
I planted more stuff this week. I planted a couple of elderberry plants yesterday and then received more stuff today to put in the ground. So I hoisted my shovel and watering bucket and headed back out to plant two more elderberries, twenty-four blackberry plants to add to the thirty-five I planted last week. I also planted eight grapevines – four Foch Marechols and four Chardonels. I also put two Manchurian apricots, two desert willows and two golden chain trees in the ground and got them watered in. I have thirty-five strawberry plants as well that I may put in tomorrow if I have time before my ride to Dallas shows up.
The vineyard/berry patch is starting to fill up, especially if you consider the potatoes, cabbage and Brussels sprouts I planted last week due to the tiller being out and unable to prepare the ground in the regular garden plot. The garden is about a half-acre or so, and I’ll be buried in garden work for the next few months. And I’m not complaining one bit. It’s the source of my best time here at the moment. Well, that and the long walks I take with Sarah every morning and evening around the place just being companionable with the dog and availing myself of a bit of Grace that seems more abundant here for me than most other places.
Man, you’re not kidding about the familiarity of that relationship. I’m so stuck in that place in my head lately. And it’s so simple to break out of that rut, but so difficult to accomplish for very long at a stretch. It’s almost a fear of what will be left of me if I stop chewin on it the way I have. But if I don’t put it down and keep moving forward, there’ll be even less of me worth having around for anyone. I’ll be fine, but I need to turn off the internet a bit and just write or go outside. I’m pretty good during the day most days, but nights are bad when I just sit here listening to music and sitting online. It’s such a time-suck and a mood-killer. It’s almost like self-cutting, I think. I’m like one of those neurotic lesbians I used to know who would take a knife to themselves periodically. I seem to thrive on staring at the stuff that makes me feel bad. I’ll get through this. It’s just a holding pattern I get stuck in and have to break myself out of when I notice it. It’s a little better every day with some moments here and there that seem like a total regression into the dumb shit.
I hope you got the ten bucks I sent and that it helped a little. If I had an income of my own, I’d hook you up better and more often. But I won’t be working for a while yet. I’ll keep the letters coming in the meantime.
Tell David again that I loved the pictures, even if I don’t end up using them. I’ll be back to the farm on Monday sometime, and I’ll write again then.
Have a great day, buddy, and we’ll talk again soon.
Yer faithful correspondent,
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