March 20, 2011 10:50 p.m.
Howdy! Greetings and salutations! I guess to ask how you are after saying “Howdy” would be redundant.
Aye, quite a couple of days! Prison is so full of surprises, like hoping for a Cadbury Cream Egg and getting one of those duck eggs with the baby duck still in it. Yeah, I would so lose on Fear Factor if it came down to the duckie eggs. It’s amazing I’m not losing this game. Maybe I am stronger than I know? I know it helps to have my faith, no matter how shaky and to have your persistent love and kindness. If I could find just one decent pen…(that’s not funny!).
Well, let me catch you up on the Beto Soap Opera.
Friday, at physical therapy, I had words with this clown about some complete and total nothing. Per my routine, I was riding the bike, watching the computerized screen, preparing myself for the steep incline ahead. A new kat from New Orleans was riding the little bike next to me. Because of his accent, I asked if he was from Louisiana. We started talking while riding.
So he asks how long I’ve been on Beto and what unit I came from. When I mention Ferguson, this big dumb bastard butts into our conversation, asking about the Black female warden on Ferguson a few years back. I ignore him since I was not talking to him nor did I wish to talk to him. He asked again.
I tell the guy that there was no Black female warden on Ferguson “a few years ago.” He counters, saying that there was. Now, when I tell him I was there a few years ago, he says he was too, although I’d never seen him.
Long story short, when he said “few” he meant a decade ago. I stopped talking, kept riding. The Ogre tried to push the issue. I kept riding, “I’m through talking about that. I’m in the mountains.” That made him more angry that I wouldn’t entertain his stupidity.
To try to ease the tension, the kat from N.O. asks, “Whut, swe gone war bout a “few?” Swe sposed to be rehabin, not beefin.” He turns to the angry man, “Swear you fram?”
“Fifth ward,” grunts Ogre.
N.O. smiles, a mouth full of faded gold teeth. “And young blood cheer fram de southwest. Chall booth fram Uston. H-town homeboys. And if we’s in de warld, we’s gone kill each other behind a few? Crazy!”
“I’ma jump in my car and go home to my kids,” I respond.
“If I had a gun, I’d kill you now,” follows the Ogre.
Well, that is the classic one liner of the penitentiary, translating to “I won’t fight. I’m a girl without my pistol.” And being as how I have no use for pistols or cowards, I rode deeper into the mountains until Ogre found someone else to argue with. I then explained to N.O. that the same moron had just gotten escorted out of therapy two days before for arguing with the P.T.A. N.O. laughed and apologized. I rode deeper into the mountains, ill at the ignorance which dominates this place. Part of me, a fraction, wanted to crush that guy’s windpipe, not out of anger, but because he wanted to take my life, no matter how absurd the threat. I’m not that person who reacts to instinct and emotion anymore though, so I smiled to myself and kept pedaling. A small victory. (:
And since I had not let the underlings steal my joy, I remained on cloud nine from the news of our project and the possibilities. I wrote Friday, I wrote Saturday and then I got a visit.
My brother looked like T-pain with all the dreadlocks, and I was so shocked to see him! My mom and hugged me for a long time before we sat down. It was the first time I’ve seen my brother in six years!
We caught up while my mom purchased snacks. Overall, it was a good visit. Momma and I got to clear the air about a lot, but I was hurt that she wasn’t very receptive or excited by any of the good news I had to share.
At least my brother was excited, enthusiastic even, and we did most of the talking. It was a much needed visit. Hopefully things will be better.
Today was slow going, the highlight was my intense workout session. Now the idiots have stolen the officer’s clipboard and we might end up on lockdown. I’m so tired of living among stupid ass people!
Why take the clipboard? Did they think that he wouldn’t realize that it was missing? Cowards probably want to make a knife…
Right now the officer, who usually doesn’t bother anyone, is running around writing cases for bullcorn because he’s upset and the worst part is, if they do lock us down, the thief is just going to throw the clipboard out while we all suffer.
Then, last night this guy across the hallway got raped. I know, there should be infinite exclamation marks after that sentence, but I’m not surprised by much in here anymore.
I mean, I saw this dude last night, wondered why he came into the hall with those huge bloody knots all over his bald head. Not my business, I went to my cell and went to sleep, never giving it a second thought, only to find out later that someone hit him over the head and raped him. Sick is an understatement!
I can’t imagine how someone can rape a woman, a person, period. Maybe it’s just not in my nature. My ex-wife told me to rape her once before and I couldn’t understand why she was asking. How do you do that? Naw, I don’t want it if I’ve got to do all that. But what would possess a man to rape another man? What the hell?
Well fortunately, the officials came and got the guy who did it. Don’t know exactly what they’re going to do to him, but I know he’s out of there! Couldn’t have been worth it. There is zero tolerance for sexual assaults. My heart goes out to the victim. Damn, he looked all lost and confused when I saw him last night, but I would have never imagined that he’d just been raped.
I’ve got to thank the Lord that I don’t have whatever quality that would make someone go there. And…well, I’ve just got to thank God all the way around. Because, Lord forbid, if someone ever even makes an attempt, it’ll be his last. They won’t have to try his corpse for rape, but I’ll be very guilty of murder. And that’s so awful! ): But I can’t lie about it. I don’t start fights, I leave people alone, but to attempt rape is to attempt to take my life. My will to survive will trump all else.
Well, let me say my prayers and get some sleep.
Counting my blessings,
Blog Testing My Limits
Yesterday, Crips and Disciples…
Today, the Bloods.
I’m sick of the blood, so much blood. Where is the love?
And on go the gloves. Always the gloves, tighten my gloves, “You want it? Wassup?” sift out the men through fisticuffs. When is it enough? It’s never enough, bring on the drugs. Label us thugs, bang the war drums. Dum ditty dum.
Kick ass and chew gum. I’m all out of gum, and here they come. So weary I’m numb. Deaf, desperate and dumb. I miss my son! My daughter and son! Second to none. Wish I could run! What have we become?
Memories of men, living in sin, seeking the end. As filthy as pigs trapped in a pen.
The den of the devil, not on my level. I’m trying to rise! Surrounded by guys with hate in their eyes, plotting demise. The fall of the wise, ascension of wicked. Revoked my ticket and now I’m stranded. Up shit creek without a paddle and I can’t stand it.
Put my fist in it, wrist in it, in to the armpits. Holding my breath against the stench, made sick by the warmness. And Momma warned us, “Don’t you rush to grow up!” But I didn’t mind and sought treasure, found trouble, tribulations and throw up.
Sew up the rents in my soul, psychological shanks are stabbing me, destiny nabbing me, ghosts with tatted teardrops are jabbing me. No singing rhapsody. Rapture’s reversed to retrogression. Down on my knees, pleading God see. I’ve learned my lesson.
Blessing seem effervescent, an oasis in the desert. You say a mirage, I say a fascade. Guess we’re at odds.
Damn luxury cars, designer clothes, certified stones, mansions, estates, ya’ll keep it. I’m great, just give me home!
The rigmarole’s too much on my bones and now my knees’re weak. Dreading deathly quiet when the G’s speak. Trees leak sap slowly each summer, I wonder if it’s sweet enough to wake me from this slumber?
My number 2’s ready, steady and poised, man amongst boys, just resting, preparing for forever because they’re testing…testing…testing.
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