William Myrl; Letters to No One (34)

Dear No One,
I have had an interesting uninteresting weekend. There was a drawing I wanted to do, a portrait of a friend modified to look like a fox demon. I've watched a lot of anime. I actually started on the outline on Thursday, and decided I wasn't working on it again until the coming week. As often happens when I begin a drawing, I was unable to do anything else productive until it was finished. Friday morning I make progress, shading most of the face. But the mouth wasn't right, so I e everything below the nose. Then I finished the eyes, and discovered that one was out of position. With resignation, I put the picture away, and began again that afternoon. Then it was 12:43 the following night, and I was finished. It wasn't a perfect likeness, but clearly recognizable, and as a picture it was one of my best. It should be on my website at some point. Sunday was essentially a wash. I lifted a heavy thing and put it down again several times. I sorted my photo album. There are two types of people who possess and pay attention to photo albums; nice old ladies and incarcerated felons. Think about it. 
The rest was a waste, aside from sending a letter home. Last weekend I wrote twenty three pages and this weekend I wrote none. Not a fabulous record, thanksgiving will give me an extra day free from the shop, at least. And I won't use that efficiently either.
I am sorry I am being boring. Tommorowland is on. Then the Walking Dead. Mundanity is the greater part of the prison experience, and waiting. For example, I was moved to this building two weeks ago and I still don't have a pillow. The first two days I asked every CO I saw in the entryway to find me one. I talked to a sergeant, and he told me they were doing exchanges on Thursday. I reiterated that I did not have a pillow, and therefore could not engage in an exchange. He told me to put in a request form, so I did, and here we are. There's no one to force these people to do their jobs. This allows us to get away with things, like a strip of sheet clothesline to hang my towels, and being able to sit in the pod chairs against the wall. That's very exciting. And when I need a power of attorney signed, it takes seven forms and three weeks, even though the handbook says a notary should be made available to me within twenty four hours of a request. So I've got some extra sheets bundled into a faux pillow, and I've stopped asking. You win, Virginia, my spirit is broken, and you get to keep your pillow. 
Ill put a complaint form in tomorrow.

Yours,
William Myrl