Tuesday, September 15, 2015

William Myrl; Letters to No One (23)

Dear No One,

     We are putting together an officially unofficial crossfit competetion. If you are not familiar with crossfit, it is the sport where five years from now you will be hearing how bad it is for the bodies of those who participate on a professional level. I'm not athletic enough to do the things they are going to do, but I am the only one with the weird explosive motivation necessary to put stuff together. They say, "Wouldn't it be cool if we did this?" and I say, "BAM! Done." It's the posters all over again. Actually, all I did was pick most of the events and do up some pamphlets and talk with the guys about how to officiate. That is, what counts as an overhead lock in cleans ect.. ect..

Speaking of clean and presses, I am not good at them. It is the sort of thing you have to practice. I'm a bit better than when I started, because I can get the one-thirty-five over my head now once or twice correctly, but they are going to be doing grace with it. Grace is thirty clean and presses as quickly as possible, in this case with the one-thirty-five. So William is not there yet. Very sad.

There was a bit of drama and feelings over what events were to be included and what should be made up and what should be not made up, but overall everyone seems to have a good attitude. There are going to be seven competitors and two or three officials including myself. About seven dollars has been donated to go into the pot for the winner. Normally, there are weight lifting competitions for the annual "cook out", but as the rec supervisor quit and has not been replaced, this will have to do as a substitute.

The guy I have tutoring me in the power of song is funny. He thinks there is no use for growling and that it can only harm your throat however you do it. It's like he's a stereotype of someone who went to college for singing. He sings everything really straight and precise, and he knows all the terms and the exercises and the band he's in still relegated him to backups because he's not as powerful or engaging as the talented but unschooled fellow they used as the lead. Still, very useful to have him help shore up my deficiencies and  acclimate me to singing in front of other people. We sit on one of the picnic tables outside to do our little practices. Kind of awkward. I am grateful to him though.

After I start working in the tailor shop, which will be a few days more, I will be moved to another building. There are two yards, and you don't see people from the other side very often. So I will lose the people I have been accustomed to. It is a part of the experience. Prison relationships are founded on an understanding and an expectation of geographical whimsy. Tomorrow we could be somewhere else, and never see one another again. The state does what it feels like with us. I know that's true of real life as well, but to a far lesser degree.

My time is running out on the kiosk, there are but a few of my twenty minutes left. Signing off, sorry for the ramble. Captains log...


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