(Day 119) Seoul Nambu Correctional Facility-day 24 D-132

sit-ups	push-ups	chair-lifts
50 x 4	50 x 2	40 x 2
Breakfast, lunch & dinner = November 2

I misjudged the pen supply again. I got a pen in exchange for drawing and it lasted until yesterday afternoon-- by which time it was too late to order anymore. It's also the only time to buy pens. I have two pens from my last order, but writing 3000 more words for my book quickly used up one of them, which leaves me with one pen to last me 9 days. No chance. I have back-up markers, but writing with markers just feels wrong. I only mention this totally boring topic of pens because I started reading Robinson Crusoe. He talks about the importance of pen and paper, except in his case once, once they’re gone, he has no way of procuring more. He is truly fucked. My only problem is a preference of pens over markers or writing in paper notebooks instead of scraps of paper or in my sketchbook, which takes up valuable drawing space. I can get more. It's a matter of when, not if like poor Crusoe. Although Crusoe was much, much better off than Tom Hanks in Castaway.

Pretty boring day. No visitors, no mail, no coffee as promised (no surprise there). I did some laundry after last roll call and dinner, just before lights out and bed. And of course, as soon as I wrote this sentence, the night shift guard comes by and gives me shit for not wearing pants (because they’re wet). I have one pair of pants. This is the first time I've washed them in 23 days. To say they were dirty is an understatement and as soon as I take them off to wash, some asshole comes by and tells me that to put them back on again. Who am I bothering by not wearing pants? I'm alone in a 1 m x 2 m cell. If he's offended, don't fucking look at me, asshole.

Being here has giving me even more contempt for authority figures. Give badge-- instant asshole. I literally have been told that I had to do things, not because it was morally correct, the law or part of the rules, but because the person who told me said they were in charge and I had to listen to them even if their requests were totally in left field. The immigration officers at Hwaseong were the worst abusers of their authority.