Paying Your Dues 4/14/13

Who owes you? Surely someone is withholding a grand amount of money, land, property or some other such valuables from you? Why else would you be walking around with your mug on mean, thoughts obscene...words to match if you won't be denied something due to you?

Oh Ohhhh, you're angry at the world and pissed off at your parents aggravated with your aunties cause, lil sister ain't sharing, big brothers been out of touch, and even your wife's got you wondering. But I ask you again, who owes you?

Okay, okay, yeah yeah, it's your situation, because you deserve better. Because you shouldn't have to live like this. Alright, I can respect that point of view but is it really whats gong on, on the outside that dictates who you are, and how you feel, or is it whats going on in the inside? And does anybody really owe you anything, or they simply failing to meet your expectations?

What? That too close o home for you to brush it off like dead skin? Food for thought, thought provoking, hopefully opens where your heads been. Boxed off, get your rocks off on, holding a grudge, screwed your love life, lost in the life, to much mean in your mug. Drugs have stole your ambition, left you hoping and wishing for Maybach's and Bugatti's, but there's no food in the kitchen. Ramen noodles and spam, Bun B was on to something. So anything moves your spirit until it's on & jumping? Shots fired, cops, sirens, yellow tape and paramedics, crack, x, dro, meth and it's all copacetic? What about the tombstones and cell blocks, visitation and 'mail call', the other side of the game, what the rappers didn't tell you? I pray I never fail yall, as I shine to bring the truth. And the truth is, You owe somebody...that somebody is YOU.

Peace of Mind through a Psalm

February 20, 2012

My dear lady, you are so overdue for me to pour my heart out.  Yes, the shoulder still aches some but it’s much better.  I should have never tried that stupid exercise.

The weather is still mild, chilly but comfortable enough when I crawl under my blanket.  I’m not complaining.  I’d much rather this slight chill than the sweltering heat of the summer.  Unfortunately, the next major lockdown should fall right in the hottest part of the summer.  I’ll endure that when I get to it.

So far we’ve been locked down since the seventh and we probably won’t be done until the fifth of March.  Yeah, because of the warden, it takes him a month to do what should only take two weeks, then they don’t find half of the phones or knives.  It’s just going through the motions.  They already shook down my cellblock though, so I’m alright.  Still have food, paper, books…

My biggest pain has been this Viking that I live with.  This dude hasn’t brushed his teeth once.  Not one time.  But it’s not his breath that bothers me.  His body odor is….unreal!  He sleeps wrapped up in his coat.  It’s not that cold.  He sweats for 9-10 hours, sometimes more, then pops from under the coat smelling like spoiled cabbage and onions!  Not cool.  I’ve been tempted to take that coat and throw it out of the cell.  Been biting my tongue.  I want to ask how he does not smell that rank, putrid funk.  Seriously, it’s got a four foot reach,  Don’t laugh, it’s bad.  You know how wild animals smell?  That musty, wild, overbearing stink used to warn other animals of their presence?  It’s like that.  He’s just a little boy, though.  Lord bless him.  Like we’ve become accustomed to saying, prison is not supposed to be pleasant, all the more reason to get out and stay out.  I’ll leave this to the so called, gangsters and funky dogs. 

The writing is coming along.  Not forcing it, just letting it flow.  Really, it’s good that you are so busy.  Also been working on recipes.  Wish that I was where I could try them and tweak them to perfection.  How does a marinated grilled chicken breast, stuffed mushrooms, red onions, Monterey pepper jack and Colby cheese, lettuce, beefy tomatoes, thin sliced jalapenos, sliced avocados, two crispy slab slices of bacon, chipotle salad dressing, honey mustard on grilled sourdough (with a teaspoon of the chicken breast drippings spooned on the breast before closing the sandwich) sound?  With a serving of seasoned yam fries and pickles on the side.

Honest to God, I cannot wait to get out of here, run the sun up, shower, work all day, come home, experiment, test my recipes, photograph the finished products, then feed my neighbors in exchange for feedback.  I hate being out of practice, out of the industry.

More and more, I’m considering making the move the Hughes unit to go through the college culinary arts course.  Of course, I love my job now and to leave would break the old lady’s heart.  I’m tired of moving and readjusting, starting over.  I’ve earned a reputation as a gentleman here.  Then more than likely, after I complete the course, Beto will want me back to cook for them and I do not work for slackers.  This food service department sucks.  I want free reign and nurturing of my talents.  We’ll see.

I should have started writing earlier.  I had every intention of writing you one of those good, long cards on the table letters but I’ve got to sort of rush this on so I can make sure that it goes out in the morning.  These officers don’t do much and they don’t want to do the little that they do.

Mainly, what I wanted to say was that I love you!  Sometimes, I may not say it enough, but I need you to know that you’ve touched my life in so many ways and all of them positive.  It’s hard to put into words.  You’ve filled so many voids in my life, played a major part in bringing me out of the doldrums that I was lingering in.  There truly must have been an angel by my side…I can never than you enough!

I was reading A Sparrow Falls and I stopped to think about all you’ve done for me.  You are my angel.

Also, I know you are swamped, but I want you honest opinion, do you think When Hell Freezes Over is good enough to continue and follow through?  I have other stories, but I’m torn between finishing something and starting something fresh.

Everybody keep telling me to push the first one, but I still feel that it would need too much editing, too much cutting to make it respectable.  It’s good….it’s just too raw and I don’t want to go that route, not when I can do better.

You opinion means a lot to me.  And it’s not that I’m in a rush to get something printed, but I feel the need to complete something.  I’m sitting on several short stories and about twelve started novels.

The letters to my children continue to be positive.  Some days it’s just too hard to write them, but other days I just open up and go.

The meal you described sounded mouthwatering! Mmmm!  One day.  I’ll have to send you this recipe I cut out of a magazine for a pork roast.  It looks delicious.

Africa is in your sights, huh?  So cool!  I know you guys are going to have a blast.

Speaking of Africa, it seems that each Wilbur Smith book gets better.  I really liked this last one, but I was so glad when Dirk Courtney died, although the deaths of Ruth and Sean hurt me deeply.  I’m preparing to start Birds of Prey, perhaps tonight.

Well you know you are in my heart, in my thoughts and in my prayers!

Love,

ESSAY - Understanding Autumn

Let it go.

No, really, let it go…because I have.

And what good does it do for us to hold on to our mistakes once we’ve learned our lessons?  Understand.  Understand that I indeed tortured myself, clutching the profound stupdity of my errors to my soul with the white, bloodless fingers of my regret, replaying every minute of detail of the “what was” and grievously mourning for the loss of “what could have been.”

And then…and then…when at last it seemed I’d reached my end, a message from God sought me out through a friend.  Psalm 37, verses 8-9 said that “anger and worry” were a waste of my time.  So I gave Him my problems and I gained peace of mind, of the kind that’s so cleansing that I laughed out loud and clear, didn’t care who was listening, didn’t care who may hear.  With a smile ear to ear, I knew that I had grown, and in order to grow, one must set free their wrongs, shed them like golden-brown leaves from a tree, as the seasons bring change…autumn lives within me.

You would have to be me…to see what I saw…to feel what I feel, unblemished and raw.  For love is not meant to keep secret and hidden, it too should be freed and uncovered, unbidden.  So I did what my heart said, for my heart knows no rules, to put boundaries on love is the doctrine of fools.

If love is a crime, forever I’ll be imprisoned, criticized for compassion, ridiculed for my vision.  Don’t you see the division of the body and soul, how we’re taught to love less and less as we grow old?  Like the first bitter winds of winter…hate dwells where once was…and cold fills the void in men who’ve long lost love.

I refuse.

Yes I choose to love you, and love him, and love her and love me, and love they and love them!  I will swim on love’s currents in the ebb and the flow, and soar past the boundaries that my heart doesn’t know.  I’ll live as God sees fit, not by man’s hindered plans.  And if ever you’ve loved me, surely you understand?

Understand that I’ve changed, and for the better, because where there once was so much hatred, now there is only love.  Where there once was resentment, now there is contentment.  Where there for too long were problems, now there is potential.

Do not hold it against me that I still “feel” even in this place of bricks and stone, iron and rust, disgust and mistrust.  Instead, be joyful that I still “feel” in spite of it.

ONE

 

Jason writes a long letter during lockdown

February 1, 2012

I had every intention of coming in and writing you a nice long letter, but it almost never works the way that we expect it to, does it?

I was working out earlier and I think I strained a muscle in my left shoulder.  I heard it.  So did the guy standing by me.  It sounded bad, but hopefully it just sounded bad.  Anyhow, it’s just a dull pain, but it’s very uncomfortable.  Could be worse.  I could have torn a rotator cup or whatever and I could be in excruciating pain.  Getting better and better at counting my blessings.

Not much going on this way.  I want to respond to you last two letters, but I’m going to make this letter short so I can ley my body rest.

I am writing though.  Been writing lyrics and writing the letters to my kids.  It’s amazing how good writing those letters has been for me.  And as I get more comfortable opening up to my kids, I find out more about myself.  It’s cool.

Learning a bunch in Spanish class too!  Things are pretty good.  Look for something longer than this soon.

Love,

February 8, 2012

Well, the long awaited and much anticipated lockdown has arrived!  I’m relieved, too.  I’d grown weary of people asking about, talking about, speculating…and I need the “me” time.

Yesterday and today, I mainly rested, worked out and got rid of a bunch of stuff.  With the hard part out of the way, I can attack my writing full force tomorrow morning while it’s still quiet.

Fortunately, it’s still pretty cool which makes for good lying in bed, bundled up and reading.  Unfortunately, it’s a little too chilly to do much else.  Ah, but one must count blessings.  I prefer the chill to the sweltering heat that the next lockdown will fall in.

Although I hate the title “convict,” I’ve stored up plenty of provisions, and should glide through the next couple of weeks without a problem.  Too many people will be in a sad state in the next few days.  My celly is one of those people.  He went to commissary and bought coffee, cherry Dr. Pepper and two soups.

Well yesterday, I cooked for us both, today, I gave him a soup but soon he’ll be on his own.  He made a choice and although it feels wrong, I see that there is a difference between kindness and foolishness.  Plus, he is a hateful young fella which doesn’t do much for my sympathies.  He has destroyed items before throwing them out of the cell so that no one else can use them.  Why?  If you’re throwing something away and someone else can possibly make use of it, great.  I don’t understand that type of evil logic.  Some people have to learn the hard way.  Humility is a lesson best taught by suffering.  It was a year and a half ago that I got caught without any food for a 27 day lockdown.  There were nights when I felt so weak I couldn’t sleep until breakfast came.  Then I can’t stomach the peanut butter that is in every sack, every meal.  It is an awful place, that’s a given, but once can do things to make it tolerable.  Only a fool would put himself in a position to have to wait on those miserable little wet brown bags to ease the hunger pains.  A fool I’m not.

Safe to figure you’re still very busy.  Busy is beautiful.  As you know, I stay pretty busy in here, but I long for the day that I can be busy out there.

Recipes dance through my head, visions of my determined fare, smiling over a grill full of shrimp.  And it’s not the fare that I seek.  Not at all.  I want to put the work in, gain the experience, perfect my craft, become a master chef without all of the pomp and fan fair.  Instead of guest appearances on talk shows, I want to cook for kids’ sweet sixteen’s or marriages, or graduations, any happy occasion.  I want to make food that people stare at before eating, not wanting to spoil its beauty, yet anxious to taste its bounty.

My boss actually came up with an idea about my restaurant.  She said I should call it “The First Resort” and offer a healthy savory menu, then one page of high calorie indulgences.  Sounds great!  What moved me though, is that she believes in me enough to be at home thinking about my future.  That’s the big thing.  People see that I have a future.  That is beautiful!

She said she’s reading my gook, got 70 pages into it and forced herself to put it down, mainly because she was so angry.  I guess for someone who never knew the old me, being around the new me, it’s frustrating to see all that I’ve endured, to relive the hell that I created for myself.

And people are really beginning to ask about the book.  Let’s hope that they are buying it.  I’m giving away the info enough.  One guy said that his mom told him that she contacted BookCrafters and “they” said they didn’t have that book.  I told him that was a lie before I realized what I was saying. (Jason’s book Prison Life InsideOut can be purchased through www.bookcrafters.net or other online bookstores.)

My boss is purchasing another copy for the library.  Let’s also hope that it brings in more interest.

I’ve compiled all of Joe’s blogs and put them all together for some of the other Wilbur Smith fans.  I know that they’ll enjoy his story as much as I do.

Speaking of Wilbur Smith, I plan to read Birds of Prey and A Sparrow Falls, not in that order.  Right now, I’m half way through R. A. Salvatore’s Icewindale Trilogy.  Drizzt, the dark elf, has won me over.  He reminds me of myself, trapped in a world that I despise, different from everybody, seeking the freedom of the surface, seeking through the lies.  I also have the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  Gonna try to knock it out, but it started out slow and I put it down.

Relativity is so powerful.  I think that’s the key to reaching people, the ability to relate.  Others who have a purpose, who know that this place is not where they belong tend to gravitate towards me, as if seeking a leader, a spokesperson, someone to lead the charge.  It’s crazy.

Well, gonna write some to the kids, then snuggle up with my book.  As always, I send you all of my love!

Love,