Monday, January 10, 2005
Killin’ time doin’ time (or, “Hey Ma, meet my new boyfriend—in jail")
I haven't mentioned the guy who wrote me from prison yet, have I? Yeah, see, that's one of the bad things about having your name in the paper: People can find you and write you in care of the paper. From prison. I haven't seen the note yet, but Tara tells me that he -- and I'm not going to name him, because it somehow seems wrong -- sent me a Christmas card with a letter in it asking me to help him with job hunting after he gets out or something. As if I would be any sort of expert on the subject. Anyway, he said that he wouldn't bother me again if he doesn't hear from me, but any kind of human contact is greatly appreciated. (I'll bet.)
So, if responding would be opening a can of fucked-up that I really don't want -- and I REALLY don't -- is it wrong for me to feel bad about it?
So, if responding would be opening a can of fucked-up that I really don't want -- and I REALLY don't -- is it wrong for me to feel bad about it?
