Fair greetings, Miss Bianca

I suppose it's been some time since writing you. There hasn't been any real reason for the absence other than to say... Or 'write' more correctly, things have been a bit busy and slow for me at the same time. I also haven't had much to necessarily write about, not that I ever really do, as I'm sure you've noticed. But, if I am being honest with you, for some reason I guess I've just found myself in a bit of a funk. I have some sort of... mild depression, as diagnosed by the VA, and it must just be kicking me in the... fundament, as it were, a lot more as of late.

I mention this in relative passing because I am only recently beginning to accept it as an official and applicable diagnosis. To say, it's not that I was of the mind I couldn't have depression, mild or otherwise, I just felt like it was what I assumed anxiety to be instead; sans the brown paper bag to breathe into with copious heaving breaths, not necessarily depression. Anyway, I recently read online about a blogger/illustrator of some repute, named Allie Brosh. She apparently took an extended- or what she thought at the time might be a 'permanent,' break from her work because of depression. I mention her because some of the things she had to say about it upon returning seemed rather similar to my own feelings. Feelings of failure… my not wanting to care regardless of that, fear of forever being misunderstood and then caring even though I didn't want to.

That what I had to contribute was garbage, but to persevere in spite of that fact.

You know, vulnerable muck and detritus like that. The kind of feelings that make you think of yourself as irrelevant.

I don't know, maybe she didn't necessarily write about 'all' of those things specifically, but that's what I took from it.

Credit 'By Association,' I guess you could call it.

Anyway, I don’t like to talk about it much either 'cause it seems like an excuse. It all seems like something on par with what I associate to the plight of the millennial generation. At a certain point a person just needs to suck up their issues and deal, not make them a reason or excuse for being held back.

For me specifically, being saddled with such a diagnosis only additionally pisses me off and compounds my feelings, because I don't necessarily want to be lumped into that niche group. In the area I live in specifically it's assaulted and commandeered by a hodgepodge of fashion bloggers, narcissistic all importants, pot glorifiers, IPA sippers, non-artistic photographers and legions of

[deep breath...] organic purporting yoganistas not nearly as culturally cool in my mind as magazines and social media make them out to be.

I'm probably being overly harsh, but I shouldn't have to feel sugar shame and corn compunction whenever I go to the grocery.

I suppose I'm just more a product of the eighties that discovered Seattle grunge rock rather late on account of 70's and eighties pop/country and adult contemporary dominating my folks' cassette and eight track players. And with, you know- a little nineties pop top 40’s sprinkled in if I happened to turn the radio dial instead of going in with them to ride in the cart while [they] shopped for groceries. (Don't tell my Dad. Presets weren't to be tampered with in those times.)

[Screaming Eag’s]

Anyway, moving on, now that I've told you my most intimate, non-coitus related secrets and reasons for not writing, although I don't know [if even] the Coitus related secrets are that 'tightly' guarded, they certainly aren't all that interesting to women that direct focus toward certain 'clench-like'  exercises when they work out, especially since I personally prefer a little slop in the steering; to use a car metaphor,

[Diagram of steering types.]

[Steering slop: unofficial term; borrowing from 'slip' of mid 16th century English origin, relating to the 'slip' or 'excessive travel' between a vehicle's steering wheel and corresponding linkages, typically indicative of a worn or 'loose' steering gearbox found on those vehicles lacking a rack and pinion type steering system.

(If you aren't savvy to how vehicles work or what I'm ultimately eluding to. (Which if you don't is probably for the best; for the sake of proper decorum in talking to and writing a lady.))
a.k.a: Rag joint]

In any event, the evolution of steering systems and relating them to preference of... 'comfort' between the sheets notwithstanding, I can see how you might think I was trying to sabotage your prison stay with my letter to Gary Lee, but rest assured that wasn't the case. I actually haven't even gotten back any reciprocated correspondence from him, if you were curious. but if you heard about it, I suppose it was received. Albeit maybe not with open arms. or whatever the equivalent of embracing a letter would be... 'aching palms;' 'itchy fingers'?

I don’t know... maybe I raised a topic seemingly ill-befitting what someone would send in a letter to a

female prison facility guard they've never met.

I don't imagine what it could have been though.

Oh, I also didn't ask him to give you preferential treatment, if you were worried about that... if I remember correctly anyway, albeit the subject of glitter as coffee grounds, pukey trash and finger avulsions may have arisen.

Guilty on those counts for sure, 'cause I think it was you I wrote directly about George W. Bush being a Reptilian space lizard, if memory serves... well Gary Lee too if he reads your mail before you see it.

Admittedly, I 'was' trying to see if there was an Asian cuisine night for you and your fellow inmates. And if there wasn't, maybe I might have been subconsciously trying to imply with my letter it might be for your best interests if there was one. But other than that I don't think I tried to do anything that would benefit you over others-
You are a criminal after all; by state definition. You shouldn't have done what you did. And now you have to suffer your just Asian desserts for your infraction against society. I suppose in a way it’s possible to see it as ‘me’ that is imprisoning you, because in a way it was ‘you’ that wronged ‘me;’ if you think about our roles in a social contract.

Hey! You could even look at it in such a way that frames it to look like you wronged yourself!
How about that for glass half full?! It’s more like Glass half... “containing some stuff.” That's Philosophy!

I don't know, maybe I was wrong in my efforts to try starting a dialog with one of your captors, But it just seemed like the least I could do to make the stay for you and your peers more bearable. Maybe it still isn't justifiable with that intension, but I just reasoned an Asian cuisine night was probably one of the most desired and missed things in prison, you know... beside freedom. (Barring the smell of it cooking) and two ply quilted asscial tissue.

I know it certainly can't be the drugs prison… encumbered folks miss, especially if what the show 'Drugs Inc.' broadcasts is at all accurate, 'cause you probably have some yourself if they are as rampant as the program would lead those of us not caught disregarding the social [contract] to believe.

Who knows, maybe asking about Asian cuisine night is exactly where I went wrong and the reason I haven't gotten a letter in return. Perhaps I'll write him again and ask him direct. It's only the polite thing to do, right?

Speaking err... 'writing' of 'Drugs Inc.,' specifically regarding the prison episode, I took note of the fact that guards can't search civilians' lower cavities for drugs unless there is probable cause. Seems to me that method should really somehow improve as that has to be like- exactly how an overwhelming percentage of drugs find their way into the facility.

Not that I think free people should like- have their... 'Selves' dug around in, but there's gotta be some way of keeping or ensuring the... 'closure' of their respective receptacles when around prisoners during visits. I mean, how is it T.S.A. gets away with body scanning people and testing their skin for bomb residue before getting on airplanes but prison visitors; an overwhelming amount of whom are probably muling contraband goods, are untouchable?

Why not say- affix chastity belts of some sort and only allow mouth stuff and hand holding during conjugal visits? Something like that has got to bring down the drug volume at least a couple kilos a year I would imagine. Granted they could still puke up the drugs, but you can hear that through the door; lack of experience notwithstanding, I suppose, on account of the mouth stuff restrictions, if that implication/allusion wasn't clear.
Hmm... maybe the mouth stuff restriction isn't helpful in that case. But then again you almost have to just let them get away with it if they are of the ability and have the gumption to make themselves heave.

I absolutely 'hate' heaving.

You know how much pain and suffering I'd save myself if I could just get it over with and made myself Ralph whenever a migraine set in?

Instead I go into puke denial, and spend the

next three to four hours sometimes just trying to work through and hold it back. When if I had just puked I could have been done with all that and just gotten back to enduring a brain meat searing, neuron burning headache.

[Ethan Hawke never had it so bloody good.]

Anyway, so were my subliminal suggestions for Asian cuisine night all for naught? Maybe you ladies already have like- a Korean barbecue night?

[Grill up some fashion]

Ha! Listen to me- (or whatever the equivalent word of 'Listen' is to 'hearing' as ... '[whatever]' is to 'reading' might be. You know, because you're 'reading' the letter, not listening to it.)

'Looking' maybe?

Sure let's substitute 'looking' for lack of a better word.

Ha! 'Look' at me... suggesting there could be a Korean BBQ night in prison. How silly, right? Whoever heard- I mean 'read' of a Korean barbecue where you didn't cook the meat yourself

[Ever hear the theory the town in the film Footloose existed in the world of the film Tremors? (The Graboids going after vibrations being the reason the town elders didnt want the kids dancing.) ]

on a grill built into the table you're sitting at? I can only imagine what trouble you inmates would get into with access to open fire and meat skewers in the cafeteria.

Barring the obvious... 'bar' facial brands and cult-like inner labial piercing you ladies would give each other, there's a huge risk of salmonella poisoning from those of you that don't know how to properly cook the meat all the way through or to the appropriate safe temperatures. It'd be a state sanctioned nightmare to ensure you all got your food handler's cards.

But speaking of genital mutilation, I once got in a conversation with a guy who asked me if I was comfortable being around other men's penises.
...Backing up a tick,

Some years ago, finding myself at a house party while on leave from Marine Corps basic training, a conversation in regards to my experience started with a small group of people out on a patio. Beside the typical questions regarding the Drill Instructors and whether I went to MCRD San Diego or Parris Island the unusual question as to what it had been like to shower with a large assortment of other men arose; a line of discourse I suppose didn't seem 'too' disconnected in theme, since showering with a large assortment of other men was also a part of Basic Training, albeit not a very important one, but one I had been curious of myself, but was a bit surprised to be asked about nonetheless, to say the least-

The answer as to how it was done being; as I am sure you know, is with nothing other than the 'strictest' of eye contact, anything less being considered 'Cock Gazing' and wildly inappropriate (use of the term 'Cock Gazing' as it applies to 'your' experience notwithstanding.) So, it's not exactly like sharing the secrets to a magic trick, as I'm sure you know from your own experiences in and out of shower, prison or otherwise;  hey maybe 'Cock Gazing' could apply for you after all, so I suppose I could have written 'withstanding' earlier, too late now.

Anyway,  the whole thing is still a pretty spectacular

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CHANNILLO

Brian's Fourth Letter to Bianca (1)
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Fair greetings, Miss Bianca

I suppose it's been some time since writing you. There hasn't been any real reason for the absence other than to say... Or 'write' more correctly, things have been a bit busy and slow for me at the same time. I also haven't had much to necessarily write about, not that I ever really do, as I'm sure you've noticed. But, if I am being honest with you, for some reason I guess I've just found myself in a bit of a funk. I have some sort of... mild depression, as diagnosed by the VA, and it must just be kicking me in the... fundament, as it were, a lot more as of late.

I mention this in relative passing b...

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