I have a prison pen pal.  In fact, I’ve had prison pen pals (off and on) for about fifteen years.  It all started when I was forced at gunpoint to do something charitable at work.  That was back in the day when I hated being philanthropic.  Thus, I vowed I was not going to do any manual labor of any kind – period.  Consequently, my options were limited.  Turns out there was a non-profit Christian organization that pairs felons up with writers. 

Bingo!  Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner.

I figured if I were in prison, I would want to get a letter from me.  I mean – I do lead a charmed life of hobknobbing and muckety-mucking.  My first pen pal “Big Nate” (uh, don’t ask) managed to break eight of the ten rules of engagement in his first letter to me.  Yes, there are rules when prisoners write you.  To be honest, I can’t even remember what the rules were – but he was a button pusher.  Most rules are casually chucked out the window.  For instance – Big Nate was never supposed to ask me to send him things.  In his first letter, he desperately needed toothpaste.  In his second letter, he desperately needed a big screen TV.  I fully anticipated in his third letter he would ask for a Volvo.  In 2000, he got sprung – only to be thrown back in six weeks later.  We correspond once or twice a year now.  The honeymoon is over. 

My new prison pen pal is locked up for burglary.  His sentence is particularly harsh because of the three strikes law.  Or so he says.  I’d tell you his name – but he tends to change it randomly from letter to letter.  Sometimes he’s Jinx.  Sometimes he’s Hollywood.  Sometimes just plain ol’ Fred.  He’s pleasant enough.  He’s a decent writer – often putting things down in an odd conscious stream of thought.  (Hmmm, who does that sound like?) 

I think we both get a kick out of each other.  I learn all the latest lingo and prison slang.  He gets to hear about my exciting world travels.  He tends to add a lot of unnecessary “emoticons” in his letters to reinforce how he’s feeling.  SMILEY FACE!  SAD FACE!  FACE WITH TONGUE STICKING OUT!  And he also calls me “dawg” … that’s so cute.  I feel akin to Randy Jackson.  

Writing Jinx/Hollywood/Jason is really just another creative outlet for me.  Not unlike this blog.  He rarely comments on anything I write.  Not unlike most of my readers.  And he usually just rambles on about whatever he wants.  I reciprocate in kind.  Those are the best kind of letters.  Not that it matters, he’s sort of a captive audience anyway.