Life After Death: The Shocking True Story of a Innocent Man on Death Row

degrees last night. I woke up at 2:30 a.m. when a guard began beating on my door with a metal bar and yelling for me to get up if I wanted a breakfast tray. When I got up it took me a minute or two to get my hands to work right because they were so cold. I slept in two sets of clothes, but my bones still felt like glass. Not that I’m complaining—I’ll take the cold over the heat any day, and summer in here is hell. I actually like the cold. It fills me with nostalgia, reminds me of my youth. When I was a kid the fire would always go out in the middle of the night and the cold would roll in and coat the entire house. I was always amazed to see that the water in the toilet had frozen over. Something about the cold always makes me feel young again.
    They set another execution date this week. There’s now one scheduled for March and one for April. It’s looking like there’s probably going to be at least one a month for the next four or five months, not counting February. The non–Death Row prisoners like when there’s an execution because it’s the only time the prison serves fried chicken. I’m still not one hundred percent positive what the point of the fried chicken is—either placating the rest of us or celebrating the execution. Whatever it is, it’s looking like the fried chicken may be coming fast and furious this year.
    I can feel the daylight hours growing. I can’t see it, but something in my core feels it happening. It’s strange how I can still feel when the sun is up, even after not being out in its light in seven years. I’ve heard of experiments where people were closed away from sunlight for long periods of time, and eventually they lost the ability to feel if it was day or night. Perhaps I would have, too, were it not for the solar and lunar energy-circulating practices I do. Last night was the full moon. The Storm moon, which usually falls in February. That means the Chaste moon will be in February this year, instead of its usual time in March. I would have loved to have been able to go out and look up at it. That’s one of the things I miss most—the night sky. The stars, the moon, the crisp air. Maybe soon.
    Time to get busy. My routine is not going to do itself.
    The Boston Red Sox are big, big magick. I’ve heard that some analysts are saying they won’t even make it to the play-offs this year. I don’t like sports for the most part. It seems like a tremendous waste of valuable, precious time to me—time that could be used for something constructive, productive, or to further your growth: studying, meditating, working out, talking to loved ones, et cetera, but there’s something about the Red Sox that soothes my nerves, like a security blanket or a rocking chair. I like to have them on the TV or radio playing in the background as I go about my business. It’s better than one of those ocean sound tracks.
    I’d better get to work. Talk to you soon.
    I’ve been keeping an eye out for the Charlie Brown Valentine’s Day special. I know it will be on soon, and I never miss a Charlie Brown special. The best one is the Halloween show about the Great Pumpkin—which I’ve only missed one year in my life, due to the local ABC station having technical difficulties—but all the
Peanuts
shows make me feel like I’m one step closer to Halloween.
    When I was in second grade we were told to write a letter to someone we admired. Most kids wrote to the president or an athlete. I wrote to Charles Schulz. He wrote back and even sent some autographed Peanuts drawings. The teacher took them and put them on display for the whole class to see—and I never got them back. She kept the drawings. I wonder where they are now.
    The thing I like about the shows isn’t the characters—it’s the background. The colors are so amazing it almost takes my breath away. Every time I watch
The Great Pumpkin
I feel like I’m going to have a seizure during the scenes where Snoopy is in a dogfight. Just look at the background in those scenes. It really is too much to take. I can barely keep from holding my head in my hands and involuntarily groaning like I have a mouthful of the best chocolate cake ever made. I look at them and can literally smell the crisp autumn air—even in this cell. No horror movie in the world makes me feel the magick of Halloween as strongly as
The Great Pumpkin
.
    The Valentine’s show is good, too.
    I’m excited today, and happy. Not for any particular reason, other than the