Today is my 23rd Labor Day in prison. I have been alive for 46 Labor Day holidays, and I’ve spent an equal number of them as a free citizen and as a prisoner. That’s strange.
I don’t have such a clear recollection of holidays when I was growing up, but I know that I spent them with family. In prison, holidays don’t have much significance. I wouldn’t have known it was Labor Day at all; except fewer staff members work, and the lack of mail delivery, everything is pretty much the same. My schedule did not change.
I woke at 1:57 to resume my writing. I wrote through page 510 today. I’m still in chapter eleven, and it looks as if this chapter will be one of my longest. It describes the events that transpired while I was at Lompoc Camp, events that led to my transfer to Taft Camp.
I ran 10 miles this morning, bringing my cumulative tally to 2,387 miles over the past 269 days. I also wrote letters to two of my mentors, a writing coach, and a lawyer.
Monday, 7 September 2009
PDF 
