Jason's excitement continues. He blogs in rap.

February 9, 2011

“ Most of my fights then and the few as an adult have been about standing up for someone who can’t.”

12:12 a.m.

As you can probably imagine, your husband’s letter “wowed” me! A pleasant wow though. Now, hours later, after writing him a book, I’m thanking you as well. Your vigilance and ability to write and write well not only keep me buoyant, but keeps me sharp. Not many people write, but those who do are educated. It makes a difference.

No, no access to a computer. No doubt, people would surf porn and a lot of escape routes. Texas is so prehistoric anyhow. The classes that have computers do not have internet access (some classes do, but the access is so limited, it’s anemic).

Right now I’m only taking American/Texas government. Not a class I’m interested in, but it’s valuable knowledge. There wasn’t money available for me to pay for another class. Ironically, my teacher instructs via satellite from the main college campus. Our notes come from her computer. I may be able to write her about it, but I can’t speak directly to her without my class and a few others hearing.

Yeah, the gals told me pretty good. Thank God everything is back to normal. I’ve increased the intensity of my daily workouts, nothing major though. Running something I plan to do out there as well. Every morning, run and start the day firing on all cylinders.

Happy to hear you’re back to work! You seem happier when busy. That’s a healthy mentality. Dealing with books, you are open to worlds of insight and possibilities, stories and histories. Sometimes it sounds like so much going on, you know? The children’s book sounds interesting. I loathe bullies. Most of my fights then and the few as an adult have been about standing up for someone who can’t.

The weather here has been dreadfully cold for about a week, warmed up, now they are expecting six inches of snow tonight. It’s chilly, but not cold like last week. It was so cold in this cell that I didn’t want to get from under the covers to pee. ): Glad at least ya’ll can be warm, safe and stationary. I worry so about the people I care about. My mom doesn’t understand that and goes for several weeks without letting me know that she’s okay. I thank you for the constant contact.

Again, your husband's blog was very informative and entertaining. I can see it all in my mind as I read. The pictures were great too! I really think the picture of you in front of Victoria Falls is wonderful! The pictures look like paintings.

Well, I’m going to write myself to sleep. Better put this out to be mailed. I’m very excited about all of this. I’ve been writing too, so don’t think I’m all talk. 

Always looking forward to your kind words! What a friendship. Who would have thought?

Sincerely,

February 14, 2011

“What you and your husband have given me is more than my passion to write back, ya’ll have given me purpose in a purposeless place, joy in the jungle of the jolted.”

9:19 a.m.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!

Have I told you how special you are to me? “Wale lal Lady, if I ain’t, then perdon me….I’m long overdue.” Honest, you are very, very dear to me, so allow me to say I love you. No, no, no….don’t blush…no awkwardness…formal smormell. We are sooo far beyond “formal.” This is life, life demands passion, passion grows from seed of truth. My goal is not to offend, but simply pretend not to pretend. You have become as near and familiar as family. You are family. Geesh, he waited until my defenses were down…what can I say? I guess I’m easy. So when I close a letter, from time to time, “with love” know that it’s from the heart, no ulterior motives, no byproducts, no preservatives, just wholesome, old fashioned love.

I’ll gracefully accept you smiling, crying (touched tears), or doing a little dance, anything else would be uncivilized.

Obviously, you’ve noticed I’ve got my mojo back! How about roasted lemon pepper chicken to celebrate? And your very best bottle of Welch’s 2010 vintage sparking apple cider. I insist. You are the catalyst, largely responsible for today’s Jason. Call your husband in the room and ask him if he would give you a big thank you hug for me?

How are you? Hopefully you’re experiencing milder weather. It’s currently warm down here, but I’ve not paid the weather much attention, been in my own world, literally consumed by words, thoughts…this past week has been productive. I’m actually glad to be on lockdown. They bring my food (regardless of how awful it is). No need to dress, to interact. Read, work, think and if there’s time, eat, work out and bathe.

I’m nearly out of paper, no surprise. For the last several years, I’ve only needed paper for letters, a poem or rap here and there. Now, I must have written 30 pages, front to back, in the past six days! Writing until my hand hurts. What you and your husband have given me is more than my passion to write back, ya’ll have given me purpose in a purposeless place, joy in the jungle of the jolted. And as advised, I’m not writing with dollar signs dancing in my head, but you have my word, if any money is made, not matter how far down the line, regardless of how small the amount, I’m going to do something special for you.

My neighbors kept asking how I could be so lively on lockdown, then they just started to enjoy me. Without even knowing what’s going on, they all suddenly want to read what I’m writing. (I let two guys read my first two days of writing—seeking an opinion—and they told everybody that I was “BAD!”) That feels good, though. As I mentioned before, I need constant reassurance…well, no…I guess not. ): I used to…but now…I hadn’t paid much attention. Well, that’s cool! I’m sure of myself. Cool!

Before I forget (please don’t be upset?), do you remember sending me the pictures of crawfish, turtles, crocs and catfish? Okay, the guy I had drawing that stuff for me went to jail like eight months ago. Then when he got out, I couldn’t catch him to get the drawing and pictures from him. Then, he went to jail again. Whew! So I need more pictures, if you don’t mind, if you have time?

Blog:    The Wrong Man for the Job

I’m not adverse to proper.  Proper speech, proper posture, proper behavior… There’s a proper place and time for everything.  But sometimes, sometimes wrong just feels so right.

In this place, wrong spawns unchecked, destroying everything it touches like an evilly mutated curse of Midas.  And I try my damndest to steer clear of all sources and surfaces of debilitation. 

In this place, it is rare to encounter truly good people.  I don’t mean altar boys convicted of crimes they didn’t commit.  I’m talking about good people, folks with hearts of gold who made copper choices. 

Within these walls are Bible toting evangelists who’ll stab and push your spleen through your back.  Also dwelling within these walls are stone cold murderers, inked head to toe, whom command respect with bearing alone, who pray in secret—humbled by the forgiveness of a higher power, who will fight when threatened, give to the cold the shirt off their backs, and feed the hungry their last spoon of food.

The first man is a poseur, a fool foolishly attempting to fool He who cannot be fooled.  And the biggest fool of all is the fool that follows the fools, so I avoid those types.  The second man, the man you would no doubt label a “thug” on sight, is a man of virtue.  He is my peer, for it is my perception that the blind man who gains sight is of higher value than he who pretends to have sight, shouting directions into the crowd.  The blind leading the blind.

Yes, the repentant killer is who inspires hope in me, that one can sink so low and still rise up.  Kindred spirits, no?  Because of my past, I too will be labeled and stigmatized.  He and I though, with blueprints to build highrise positives and grand productivities, will cross the Statistic River, and transform from “niggas” to enigmas.  Go figure. 

What?  Are you offended?  Please.  Maybe my words are too strong to belong outside of a rap song.  Noo, sometimes wrong is right when wrong makes the statement right won’t make.

Forsake, shake and fake, you live like a fraud. While I keep it real, like I do with God.  By God, you are blushing, hushing my soul?  With the lie that you live and the lies that you’ve told?  That’s cold.

See, I’ve sold enough dope and I’ve shot enough guns, kissed the darkness then chose light for daughter and son.  No more rear view mirrors, no life on the run.  I know who I am now, who I hope to become.  Manifested through lessons of desperate and dumb, realize I’ll move mountains by flexing my thumb!  Not defiant, a GIANT, blessings add to my sum.  Hey, I once was a bird brain, pecking, chasing the crumbs, now awakened and breathing, I am “Jason the Lung.”

Refreshing.  Undressing the wolf in sheep’s wool.  Not worthless.  My purpose?  Divine’s mighty tool.  While you frown and you sneer “he’s all wrong, he don’t fit.”  Since we be’s speaking slang, you ain’t right about shit.

You’ve missed my whole meaning, with a message so strong!  If you’d open your eyes, you’d see right comes from wrong.  See, I’ve been where you’re headed, truth is, I wrote the book.  Went from child to buck wild, crazy crook to great cook.

Accused to accomplished, condemned to complete, use the doubters as steps to success from the streets.  And I wear my wounds proudly, my war cry, my song.  I’ve found me, raw and righteous, now who’s right and who’s wrong?

Joining, coming together, meeting of the minds, do you mind? Mind?  Mine.