Hi Bianca,

I just got to finally reading your letter; you know how that goes, and needless to say I was more than a little taken aback...  you only consider me an acquaintance?

Barring said… seeming 'demotion in status,' I find myself in what can only be described as a 'jubilant state' that you have found a new sense of applied rhetoric, albeit it smacks of something I can't help but feel I've tasted on my tongue and spit out before. 

I almost feel touched knowing I may be a catalyst-like influence directing such effected crystallization. 

As a matter of fact, before now I was really having a time of it trying to figure what some of the more interesting sorts of things happening behind the scenes there might be. But if a letter or conversation is able to carry its share of the potable water, none of that really seems to matter, you know? 

I don't know if you've noticed, but all too often so many letters-especially verbal exchanges between folks-can seem so... time worn and devoid of any real substance or information relevant to building or advancing a coexisting narrative; too often lacking any real purpose. The closest comparison I can think of equating it to is the likes of trying to have a discussion with individuals in their waning, autumnal years.  

How many times do people really need to ask about the likes of say: 

'What 17th century Spanish literary work (they're) currently reading?'; or 'How well (their) troublesome furuncle is draining?' 

Lest I forget to include whether a person's 'precipitated chalk treatment is effectively neutralizing the oxalic acid levels in their organic rhubarb greens.' No letter or verbal exchange is complete without addressing that time honored quandary.

You know... the sort of questions and pleasantries assaulting the psyche from morning to night that cause you to cringe from their redundancy. Hopefully such realities are quite lacking for you on account of your current social placement, but it’s certainly a very real actuality out here in what constitutes the ordinary world.

I honestly wouldn't miss it even were there somehow only a limited supply.

So, kudos. You definitely changed all that up with your latest. 

It's almost as if you added a whole mess of bitters to the taste neutral cocktail, so to speak. You can only drink gin and quinine for so long before the bite you once savored is devoid of (its) fuming punch.

But you provided something very much needed.

Something sung more from the diaphragm and not so much from the throat, in so many words.

Side bar: Do you know how to raise and utilize your soft palate? It's essential to sing falsetto- 

Geez, what am I asking? It's not like you're in a male prison.

Not to like- discount what woman's prison may be like, I'm just left to believe on account of television, cinema and the American liberal penchant to... 'bombast about the zeitgeist' that women are universally seen as lesser, that 'Lady Jail' probably isn't as adverse as ‘Dude detention.’ 

To my mind though, the condition of women's bathrooms versus men's serves as a much better, verifiable analogy. Not only have those I've investigated-once they've been certified vacant- been cleaner, but some have even had furniture and provided complimentary sanitary hygiene products. The men's bathroom equivalent would probably have to be a condom dispenser, and I haven't seen one of those in ages. Nor have I ever seen copies of ‘Vanity Fair’ amidst their piss crusted floors either; my moderate to keenly heightened 'Highlights' 'matching' and 'noticing the difference' skills-developed over years of consistent bi-annual visitation to dental practitioner's offices-most certainly would of... having had... keyed upon such a presence.

(I wonder if anyone has ever flossed enough to edify a hygienist's lofty expectations. They are always dissatisfied with my inflamed gum line, regardless my efforts. 

One lady hygienist even cut into my lip meat as assertively as she was going after morsels her tartar hooks should have already removed; 

as if her piano wire even stood half a chance of sliding between my tight grouped rows- I need that razor thin ‘Glide’ brand action, lady- You'd think a professional would know and recognize that, regardless their preference for tooth yarn.

I mean- it's not like I don't understand the importance of running string through my mouth; have you ever seen the aftermath of a caries that has attacked a tooth from the side? It's the stuff of nightmares... but during the day.

But really, but for the hundred and fifty to three hundred-if it’s time for X-rays-I'm paying you, I don't need passive aggressively guilt shamed into running up a steeper water bill for the sake of 'making time for dentine (twine).' My teeth are kind of mine to destroy and you only stand to gain if I do.

You could be a little happier I don't apparently care about my teeth. 

What is dentistry like at Lady Lockup? For safety I bet they cuff both wrists to the chair and to keep you disoriented aren't very generous with sunglasses for that obnoxious bright light. For the sake of state budgetary constraints and concerns I can't imagine they are very inclined to let you spit very often either; cost of water as steep as it is. I know I'd forego those costly multi-ply paper bibs with the ball chain and alligator clip if I were running the state sanctioned show. 

Taxpayer money is sacrosanct.

Seriously, why worry about 'clink clothes' coveralls getting covered in slobber blood, tooth dust and food detritus when they see worse on a semi daily basis? 

It's not like you're going to face the parole board after an extraction or- 

I guess I could see one after a cleaning. )

Anyway, not that I am 'directly' comparing the slammer to toilets-to circle back to point-but in a country that still reputedly treats women as unequals, if 'your' new penchant of elevated writing prowess stands as any example of your surroundings, I'm of the mind to think my gender specific washroom quality paradigm stands as a likely representative of comparison to the differing standards of life at the hoosegow between sexes.

Transgendered Prisons might stand to be the best though... if current event issues take to deeper root. In any event, I just wanted to reach out and break the silence between us I was perpetuating and use the 

opportunity to figuratively reset the stage.

You may or may not be surprised to know I did, in fact, show a little of my so called 'sack;' just a peak, and rose to the challenge of your so called 'dare' to forward the ‘letter to the editor’ you composed. I dare say I take a certain amount of pride in knowing you wouldn't have written them if not for me and my otherwise boring analysis.

While I haven't perused any editions of the magazine-not chancing into any female washrooms as of late-to see if any form of your letter has been published, They have yet to directly respond to me via email in regards to it. Not that the absence of that fact alone should lead you to believe: directly contributes to your restating of my opinions as being relevant or not, I assure you. 

You probably just stepped up your game a little too high for the likes of their staff writer's ilk and skill. 

So there's something to feel good about.

And with that I bid you well wishes. Try not to get too 'mixed' up with anyone. Tough as that probably is, being caught up in the 'stir.'

-Brian

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CHANNILLO

Brian's Eighth Letter to Bianca
Series Info | Table of Contents

 Hi Bianca,

I just got to finally reading your letter; you know how that goes, and needless to say I was more than a little taken aback...  you only consider me an acquaintance?

Barring said… seeming 'demotion in status,' I find myself in what can only be described as a 'jubilant state' that you have found a new sense of applied rhetoric, albeit it smacks of something I can't help but feel I've tasted on my tongue and spit out before. 

I almost feel touched knowing I may be a catalyst-like influence directing such effected crystallization. 

As a matter of fact, before now I was really having a time of it trying to figu...

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