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I’m 25 years old from Maine. I have a 20 year-old fiance named and a beautiful 1 year-old son. I was arrested for selling 5 hydrocodone to a former friend of mine who was wearing a wire.

I’ve paid fines, previously for weed possession, but other than that I don’t have a record.

I was sentenced to two years with all but 3 months suspended. Right now, I’m in County Jail doing the 3 months. When I get out of here I’ll have probation for two years. That means that if I get caught drinking or using drugs in the next two years, I’ll go back to jail for two years.

I wasn’t offered the option of rehab. I’ll get released back to my home town, my family & all my old friends.

Two years for five pills. And I missed seeing my baby boy walk his first steps.

Wish me luck.




How is everyone?  I guess you could say I am good, for April I should be back in Portland and in a half-way house.

I can say, yes, I would still write Dark Star but of course I don’t have an address or phone number for her and so I don’t whow where that is going, for unless she emailed you for me I don’t know.  I thought that you guys had pictures of her for me, at least that is what somebody said the last time I heard from you guys.

I get a letter from Arline (Lawless) here and there, for I had no one who would send our letters for us.  (LOL.)  I guess you could say if you could forward it for me.  For you guys already have my date of April 10.

So hey, write me back and yes, please check your email and send me whatever you have from D.S.



Dear Circle:

For a while I wasn’t doing too good.  I’ve had four relapses.  Broke out twice in handcuffs.  Now, I’m out on bail and have to go to the police station every night to get tested.  Next week I have a screening for an I.O.P. at the hospital.  I’m excited.

I finally got rid of Micky.  He’d come to me, then he’d go back to Michelle.  One time when he was here when he left I was in bed and he shit in my shower!  What a pig.

I have a job interview at a hotel.  The job market sucks up here in central maine.

Miss Linda


Dear guys and girls,

How are you?  Was glad to get another letter from Circle today.  I’d like you to know that it means a lot to me, that you guys stayed in touch throughout all of this.. so thank you, my friends.

Well, not much has changed since my last letter.  Same shit, different day!  I’m hoping to start working in the community in the next couple of weeks.  I’m just waiting for someone to be transferred to Hallowell.

I’m in the writers group here and we just published a book entitled “Echoes of the Heart.”  I have 5 or 6 poems in there, and the book will be for sale to the public in the industry store.

If you have access to a printer, could you print me out some Buddhist or even old Celtic prayers and/or meditations?  It would be nice to have good things to put into my head and temporarily escape my surroundings.

I guess that’s about it, for now.  I hope this letter finds everyone well.  Take care and hope to hear from you soon.

Untill next time then.

Many blessings,

Phil Dharma Punk

I love life and everything it has to offer, but my sickness is my addictive personality and the need to constantly do something that’s existing and makes me get butterflies in my stomach.  Like carrying a gun, fighting, drugs, b&e’s, stealing or how about this:  sky diving, playing music in front of large groups of people (riot grrls and others) and the making of good music and shit.  Just a good jam session gets me feeling like that.  I don’t get embarrassed, but I love that adrenaline rush of being nervous and happy and vulnerable with music and in fronts  of people who are expecting good music to come out.  I love it.

I was a functional alcoholic.  I was drunk three years and geeked out for 2 1/2 years  for  everything.  School, work, around the house, during my gigs at parties, recordings at my house.  But I smoked about a pack a day from 9 ½ years old to about 11.  Then it was two packs average.  Until I was like 15, doing pills and large amounts of booze and speed, then it  was maybe three or four nights a week, specially when the meth came in at 18-20.  I mixed it up with adderall 30mg, and my boys  dextros (70 mg) into one big mortar andpestlel grind, ’til it was one big pile of powder.  Then I’d geek out for a week and ½ at a time, sometimes more, depending on how much meth I sold.

I’ll be fine when I get out.  I hope.

Things here are monotunis, chow, meds, chow, meds, chow, meds, bed. I box a couple days a weeks. I have yet to completely pic up jogging again. Maybe with the changing season. I love fall. Harvest time. Cooler outside. Smudged today. I love it. Beat a big drum last week, w/Jessie. Sux my Heritage has little to do with being Native to America. Maybe back when it was Pangoa. I’m english and Phillipono, ¼ to be exact. There is Indian’s tribal on that part. But it’s not American. I have been made fun of my whole life for how I look. Time to start embracing my Heritage. I’m not sub par, I’m above and beyond, anyway. I don’t fit in anywhere I guess. Good. Stealing cucumbers from our garden. To bad it’s consider stealing. Howe has done most of the work. I’m so scared of probation. I love pot to much. Sux. Hopefully, it all works out for the best.

Just cut up contraband veggie’s. Sad I have to hid out in the bathroom to do it. Like I’m shooting up or something a little Judas priest anyone. Awesome death metal, the bone, sun’s almost set. It’s 7:30, No more nite rec pretty soon. So A.A.’s been good. Couple of the guys from talk so that’s cool. So many movies I wanna see. So many times I wanna buy second hand at bull moose. Can’t wait to shop at Goodwill. Quarterroys and t-shirts. Good stuff.

“Freedom what will you make of it”

Do you remember this poem? I’m sure that I let you read it. Been in my head for years. Actually wrote it in a rehab, the hope house, in Bangor. Fall of ’93 before I was sentenced to the whole ball of shit that I ended up doing. 3-prison beds and 3-probation sentences. I was supposed to do 2-yrs. And a 2-yr. Probation stint. All of the other shit was suspended. So, I ended up doing 2-yrs., 2-yrs. Probation, 2.5-yrs, 2.5-yrs. Probation, 3-yrs, and 3-yrs. Probation, long fuckin’ story too…


How would this be to post on an ad? It might let someone know that I’m not uptight and take life way too seriously or anything. I don’t have any money for a picture right now, but I’ve still got to get a couple, so at some point I’ll send you one.


If I don’t figure out everything soon for when I get out, I may be needing to put my own ad on craigs-list and start pimping myself out. I’ve been sitting in this shit-hole for almost 5-months now and haven’t really been to concerned with my future.


The fat-bitch in charge is thinking about throwing me out of the program right now. The two guys I came home with from the dorms just tested for level-3 on Thursday. I should have too. She even let 3-other guys test that came in after me. Then on Tuesday 2 or 3-more guys tested. The word is she’s not going to let me unless I start doing little punk games ratting people out for a bunch of stupid little shit. I hate the way this “Program” is run. It’s retarded as hell.


You wouldn’t believe how hard it is for me to write anything good of my in here. And how much of a kick in the balls that is to me too. All of this down – time I would have thought I’d be cranking out stories left and right. Building up my collection. Working with Susan to get my shit together and make use of her publisher as a sounding-board. Having to pack my head with all of this crap makes no sense to me. I’ve learned everything that this fuckin’ cult has to offer. The rest is repetitious torture. Like another 100-120-days of beating a critter which has been long since dead and forgotten…


Wishing Well

If life were as we wished

no troubles to detain

just sunny skies and money trees

with a hint of rain

just beautiful girls with their tans

and none of hungers pain

life would be too easy then

for you and me and mortal men

and if we could go back you see

back again to reality

we’d all be confused as hell

and toss more coins…

…to the wishing well

When I was sentenced, back in March of 2010, I made sure that my lawyer extracted a stipulation from the judge that my fine payments would be postponed until five months following my release.  I still have the court order: no fine payments required.  So why, oh why, does M.C.C. continue to deduct this dreaded 25% from every dime that gets sent into me?  I’ve heard many, many conspiracy theories:

“The warden puts the 25% into a Swiss bank account.”

“The jail puts 25% of all of our money into a CaymanIslandbank account. When you leave, then you’ll get back your money, but while you’re here, our cash is generating tons of interest for them down in the Caymans!  Think about it: the interest alone would keep you in whoopee pies, like, forever.”

“It’s because the world outside has no idea that they do this to us!  If they only knew…”

Well, I finally wrote to inmate accounts (“Don’t do it, dude!  Don’t let the MAN know that you’re onto Him!!”), and instead of one of those standard responses (e.g. “we’re working on it.”  Or, “we’ll look into it.” Or, the standard Rick Robinson answer: “Wow.  Now that’s a good question.”)  they actually sent me back a copy of the law pertaining to restitution.  Like to hear it?  Here it goes:


From 17-A § 1330-A:  3. Restitution; absolute.  The requirements imposed on a prisoner by this section to pay restitution and fines during incarceration apply regardless of whether the court order to pay restitution or fines constitutes a sentence or is imposed as a condition of probation, regardless of whether payment has been stayed in the court order and regardless of whether the prisoner’s incarceration resulted from a revocation of probation.


What the above means is that it doesn’t matter what a court has promised me as far as fines go.  The devil will get its pound of flesh.  So there we have it.  A conspiracy in which the staff at M.C.C. ferrets our money away in a secret bank account in order to invest the interest in nefarious whoopee pie ventures?  Myth busted.

I’m Brett Vigue, MCC Windham, MDOC# 93110.

I was on probation for stealing from my father to support my habit. I was getting Oxys from NH, selling them up here – just so I could use, basically for free. Then my connection dried out. Part of my conditions of probation were to get drug counseling. I didn’t know I was gonna have to pay for that & with no insurance! What kind of work do I do? I’m a thief. So, no treatment there, no treatment in here.

Thank you.

– Brett

My name is Andrew Flood. I have anxiety to the point where it borders on schizophrenia. Agoraphobia x 10.

In 1997, when I was around 20 or 21, I accidentally (after a night of bar hopping & heavy drinking & drugging (opiates)) set a garage on fire doing moderate damage. With no prior criminal record, I was sentenced to 10 years, all but five suspended. I was not offered any alternative treatment.

So, I spent the first half of my 20s in prison (& I don’t even want to go into my education there.) I was released in 2002, went to drug & alcohol counseling, got a good job, &c. When I began to have opiate cravings, I went on suboxone (through my doctor & notifying my PO), until my PO gave me my 1st violation for using suboxone. Then I went on methadone. I’d been prescribed benzodiazapines for years for my intense anxiety – until my PO contacted my doctor & had him abruptly take me off of them. I became severely ill (as people predictably do from benzo withdrawal), even experiencing seizures. When a friend offered me a xanax, I accepted. My PO (who’d been monitoring me carefully during my detox) tested me, & violated me for a dirty urine test.

This was only my second violation in seven years, following my release from prison. For this, my probation was revoked, & I am now serving the remaining five years of my original ten.

I have lost all. For two violations.

– Andrew Flood

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Political Prisoners

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

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