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Hey guys,

Got your letter today.  Read it over.  I will write to Pastor Jeff sometime.  I still want to do this (crotcheting hats for the homeless, edit. note). I have so much stuff going on right noe that I am not even really crotcheting.

Let the people out there know that I am down for anything.  I have always wanted to try double penetration.  I love anal orgasms as well as vaginal orgasms.  I could only imagine what they could be like together.  I also love boobgasms, if there is such a thing, but when I play with my pierced nipple I orgasm.  I would prefer to have my boobgasms when doing it myself, but when someone else is doing it for me.  You can bet I love havinng my pussy licked.  I have a very ticklish clit, though.  I had it pierced once and it came out.  So I got it again.  So really ticklish.

Just figured I would tell the people a bit about me.

On the type of pictures I want of guys I want one either without a shirt or with a, I guess they are called wife beaters.  They wear them under their t-shirts or buttom ups.  I don’t know if you guys know what I’m talking about.  I don’t know if anyone out there has chest hair.  I know my ex-husband only had like 10 hairs so yeah.  A pic of someone without a shirt on first would be good even if they don’t have a lot of chest hair.  Want to see what their torso looks like.

The type of letters that I want are fantasy letters.  I don’t care whatever your sexual fantasy is, I want to know. So be honest people.  Nothing is off limits.  Even if you wanted to like tie me to a tree and hide me from the world and keep me as your precious.

I will tell anyone after they tell me.  I will also send them my sexual bucket list.

I am heading to bed.  Good night, everyone.

Peace,

Arline

Hey people,

I am glad that you guys wrote to me again.  Makes me feel not forgotten once again.  I wrote to Fuzzy Bear but I can’t call him: no phone time.  A money order takes 14 days to clear.  Money put online takes three business days.

It’s good that everyone is doing okay, that Rage is writing again. It’s good to write at least an hour a day, and I know what he means about almost hating writing.  I also know about having a psychological burning within to get ideas on paper.  I write long hand.  I like to type because my hands can keep up with my thoughts.

I actually had some kind of I-don’t-know-what on Friday morning.  I went to see medical Thursday night and the guy that has been there both times I have had my seizures asked me if I felt like I was going to have one.  I said I don’t know.  I don’t know how to tell.  He said that they want to be ready because I get hit with one I get hit hard.  He wouldn’t let me take a shower that night, told me I should go to bed and even had me put my mattress on the floor.

I told them not going to do anything dumb, but I wish I would just go to bed and not wake up anymore cause I just don’t want to deal with my head anymore.

I know, I get it, I just get so lonely and feel so forgotten all the time, you know, my family don’t really have any time to write or any thing like that.  I get it – people’s lives don’t stop because I’m in prison.

Well, I am gonna head to bed.  Hope to hear from you guys again soon.

Peace,

Arline

Hey people.

Holy fuck. Done thought you died!  I hear that, about “Horror shows.”  Bout time you guys wrote to me.  Beginning to think you forgot all of the conversations we’ve all had.  I never heard from anyone.

Everything is going okay here, I mean, as good as it can be, right?  Nope.  Not that I know about the strike situation, but I could be wrong there.

I would still like to crochet hats for the homeless.

I mean, I am as well as I can be.  I felt like I was forgotten by everyone.  I wrote to Fuzzybear and Sarah a while ago.  I was waiting for a response from them.  I assumed that they didn’t want to write me anymore, either.  I will send them a line.  I would like to talk to all of you guys over the phone, but lack of funds there.  Hopefully whenever I get some money I can set up a time to call and talk with you guys.  It’s cool bout being a long time.

Give me a shout back.

Peace,

Arline

 

 

I am going to tell you about me when I was a child. I grew up in Baring Maine. There, according to the Census Bureau, there on the plantation, this has a total area of 24.1 square miles. 20.9 square miles of it is land, and 3.2 square miles of it is water.

Now, on with my story, we were poor. I mean, at lest that is what the government thought because we were below the poverty line. I can remember my Mimi and I would pick berries: blackberries, raspberries, etc. We would get as much as we could and take them back home. We made jam out of them and of course froze some for making jam another day. The jam was divided between my families. We all worked together to feed the families. There wasn’t any of this “Oh well, you ain’t got nothing to eat? Well, sorry about your bad luck.”

We had pigs down back in the barn. They would get out and ear the rotten apples that had fallen off the tree which we picked to make things like apple pie and other apple based deserts. The pigs would get drunk from the fermented apples and stumble all over the place. I remember when we got the pigs. I made the mistake of naming one of them. Big mistake. I, being a little kid, had no idea that the pig’s future was they are going to be put into our freezers to feed us for winter.

My Uncle Bubba chased me and my kind-of-cousin around with a pig head. That was very..ahh, shall we say, frightening experience to say the least, considering that I was about six years old. I remember there was a big garage beside Mimi and Bampy’s house. We used to go over to Uncle Bubba’s house to play games and what have you. I wouldn’t go outside and walk past the garage due to the fact that the pigs were hanging upside down out there to let the blood drain.

Well, we had four pigs and we kept one female pig for breeding s we didn’t have e to buy the pigs again because they were expensive. We divided the meat up between the five different houses and that was that for the meat. Of course there were other things that were shot and put into the freezer: deer, quail, beaver, fox – you get the picture. There were not too many animals that we wouldn’t catch to putin the freezer.

Out to Bruno’s house there were three great big gardens for us. He had lots of space for the gardens. Mimi, Bruno and Uncle Jack each had one to take care of. Of course though there were us kids and the rest of the family. We would bring in the crops from the gardens can some of the baggies and freeze what-have-you and once again the product was split between the families.

We made money by raking blueberries and making wreaths. Everything that was made was made by hand. I remember making bows out of spools of red velvet like ribbon. I would make hundreds of them. That is how we got our clothes for school. Or at least for winter. We had hand-me-downs, from Uncles, cousins – you get where I am going with this. We would go to places like Marden’s and hit places like Ames when there were a bunch of clearance racks. I know a lot of people wouldn’t do that, but what choice did we have? We needed clothes for winter and summer.m

My mom and uncles and grandparents all raked blueberries to get clothes and school supplies for all us kids. There were a total of fifteen of us kids to get stuff for school. That was a lot of stuff, you know. Backpack, clothes, notebooks, all that fun stuff and new clothes or clothes that had been made to look like something new. What I mean is there would be clothes that had holes in them in the knees and what have you. My family would cut off the legs at the knees and cut the crotch out of them and then sew material up each side of the legs to make a skirt. You know what I mean, we refurbished material so it didn’t look like we were poor and couldn’t always get the expensive clothing the other kids were getting.

I can remember my uncles, cousins and grandfather would go tipping (picking brush) for people up in other places that aren’t the country. I guess that “tipping” to most people is tipping over cows. They call it brushing up here in the not-redneck land, I guess.Yeah, I am a redneck and I am damn proud to be. You will never meet a better bunch of people than the people who don’t have a whole lot to begin with. I was raised that you do anything that you can do to help out others.

I would even give someone who is much older and smaller than me my sweatshirt when we get called out to do fire drills. She would refuse it most of the time, but I would take my sweat shirt and wrap it around her and kind of like, hug her, for my God, she is over 70, you know? I also string and do facials and stuff like that in here for the women. Some of the other women in here say that I should charge for my services. I say, “No,” that is not the way I was raised. If I can’t do something nice for someone to make them feel pampered and better about themselves where it doesn’t happen all that often.

Why don’t you just back off, you know? In return it makes me feel better about myself for changing something about them, like I used to do with tattooing. I mean, what the fuck. Then they say that this is prison and it is a hustle. That people don’t do that shit for nothing. I say that I am not people and if that is what I choose to do in my spare time then that is my prerogative. Correct.

Okay, back to the reason why I started to write this piece. I know that we didn’t always have the latest DVD player or computer or what-have-you, when I was a child, but I can tell you something – though we might not ave had everything that we wanted, we damn sure had everything that we needed. Each of the different families would make sure that if they got one thing for one of the kids then until they had one for each of us, no one would get said item. No one made you feel like you didn’t matter to them because with my family, blood is thicker than water.

Love ya,

Arline

Hi everyone.

I love the sound of doves cooing, and their… I guess you would say their growling noises at each other.  Specially when they are fighting over a cheese puff.  See, my doves loved cheese.  I also love the sound of a loon’s cry and the crow’s caw, the owl’s “who” and the hummingbird’s flutter of their tiny wings as they collect nectar from the flowers.  The talking of my friend’s African Grey.  She whistles, counts and screams at you when you come into the house, unless you give her a Ritz.

I love the sound of a tattoo machine, cuz it means that when that tat is all done and finished there will be a beautiful design.  I love the sound of the bubbler fish tank.  In fact, that is what I used to listen to, to fall asleep.  Now, I listen to my fan.  Te sound of water running down a waterfall.  The ocean crashing into shore as I run across the sand with my son.  The thunder as it rumbles the Earth, and the rain down pouring on the ground.  Each has a different sound whether it is concrete, grass, tar or dirt; I love the sound of it all.

Lastly, I love the sound of All that Remains’ “the waiting one.”  Cross fades: “Cold.  Avenged Sevenfold: “Nightmare.”  Any and all music by Trapt, Nirvana, Cradle of Filth, Five Finger Death Punch, Chimera, Type O’ Negative, System of the Down.  Most music in general, especially music in musicals like “Repo, the genetic Opera,” and “Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.”

Finally, I love the sound and the laughter of my son.

Arline “Mourning Dove” Lawless

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MCC: The Kiddy Camp of Sex Offenders

Hey blog readers, it’s Sundog stil coming to you live at MCC, the kiddy camp for sex offenders.

It’s still unreal to me the special treatment they get. But my venting today is not about the skinners, it’s about another crazy roomate, well, cellmate. I come home today to find a message for me. It said, “I hate Faggots.” Yes in 2010 we still live in an insecure world. Fuckin hick named “Mike Monk” He is a lobstering fool. He is twenty-five years old with a girlfriend who looks like a man. He’s fuckin bipolar just like all the rest of them that I’ve roomed with. I have two months left. Maybe he’ll get a leg caught in a lobster trap and drown. Prejudice mother fucker. Why is haters still alive? Stop the fucking hate! I do not hate him, I loath him. I despise him! But I don’t hate him. Good luck buddy on the probation. Karma’s a bitch like I’ve said before. I strongly believe in “what comes around goes around” That goes for Mr. Back Stabber and all the ignorant workers of MCC. If you’re a bigot CO please go back to your little lives. Take a fuckin bus to the land of Fuck Yourself. I have to put up with COs making gay remarks. Not to me but standing directly beside me. Gotta have to say hey “Eclaire” lay off the free meds. I see you high all the time. Karma brings closure for me! You know, “eclaire” hasn’t been getting high any more, it was just in the summer.

Do you think they (the state workers) get drug tested? Probably not. Go away, bigots, the world doesn’t need your impure thoughts and racism anymore!

There’s always a rainbow after the rain.

Yours truly,

– Sundog

ray

Hey everybody out there,

I just got done facilitating a class.  I have another class at 9:30 to 11:30.  Then the rain closet.

I just want to talk about some stuff to try to sell on the internet so I can get some money.  I need money in the worst way, too.  My boss is on  leav4e for a while and I am trying to save the stamps and phone time untill next month.  She didn’t put in 9our hours or anything so I don’t even know if we are going to be getting paid the whopping twentyfive hours I got in July.  Fucking sucks.  Got a raise to 80 cents and hour,  but, 35% comes off the top before I even see any of it.

Sorry.  I am bitching again.  Just stressing about stuff, you know.  As far as selling stuff I have: a paintings on canvas: “tulips,”  “space,”  “chickadees,”  “a spooky tree with an evil moon in back,”  “a big eyeball with yin-hang for the pupil,”  “a city scape at night reflecting on the water,” and, last one: “a shack on ocean front with clouds.”

I can also crochet stuff.  Like, to order.  I can bang out hats in two hours with stuff grafted onto them.  Actually, everyone wants hats with their MDOC# on them.  Also with their children’s names on them.

We get two free mailing a week here, but that’s about it.

Hope to hear from someone soon.

Love: Arline

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Hey, Circle,

Today would have been my Bampi’s birthday.  But, since he has passed on, I guess he won’t be getting older, huh?  I called you guys around 7:30 pm earlier, but no answer.  Don’t know if there is a specific time I should call or what, but I tried and I will again in a day or so.

When I didn’t hear from anyone for a few days I was worried that I had did something to piss you guys off.  But, thank God, just a big worry wart, I guess.

As far as writing goes, I do, or did take writing classes, but I have always loved to write, even before I got arrested.  I am working on a memoir of the Arline Lawless story.

My son, Damien, is doing good.  He starts tutoring on the 11th.  He is a little handsome devil.  He looks just like me.  When I get rich and famous I will send you guys a picture of our visit in May.

I have P.T.S.D.  When a door slams, it sends me into a panic attack.  Guess that has to do with the gunshot wound to the face, but hey, I am also afraid to get into a relationship for fear that the same thing will happen.  I talk to mental health a lot.  I think I might have sensory problems too.

What do you think of that?

Love,

Arline

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Political Prisoners

Welcome to the blog from inmates of Maine's jails and prisons.

In collaboration with the Holistic Recovery Project, the Political Prisoners Blog provides a prisoner's view into what's happening at Maine's correctional facilities.

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