The journal of John Hobbs

Table of Contents:

1 December 2006

The 1st thing you notice is the smell, a stench that hangs in the air as heavy as flies over a rotten corps. A thick combination of limestone, mold, stale piss and human decay, all mingling together under the guise of old disinfectant struggling in an unveiling battle with misery and time...an overwhelming foulness that not only assaults your sense of smell but gathers at the back of your throat like a contaminated phlegm until the odor becomes a taste and breathing through your mouth becomes equally as difficult and unrewarding as breathing through your nose. The next thing you notice is the fear...I'm not talking about the fear you may feel as a kid when you have to meet the school bully after school knowing that you don't have a chance. Or the fear of getting caught doing something that you know is wrong, or the fear of the foot your ol' man is fixin' to put in your ass for getting caught. No, I'm talking about an all consuming fear that grabs you by the balls, grips your being in a cold, sickening, bear hug that threatens to squeeze the shit right out of you. It's not a fear that creeps up on you giving you the time to adjust and contain it...no, nothing that easy. This fear is more like a sudden kick to the groin that paralyzes you with the realization that you fucked up...really, really bad. And this fuck up is fixing to be your unwanted companion for a long time. It's a fear that makes you want your mama more than any other time in your life, and as you turn to look behind you, thinking that just maybe you might see that familiar face, all your futile hopes dissipate like smoke in the wind as the gates you just walked through closes like the lid of a coffin and you realize that there is no mama, no Calvary on the way, and no last minute reprieve...only the decree of the 15ft high iron gates turning the world that you just left into a longing memory...

That was my initial thought that day as I stepped through the gates of the Missouri State Penitentiary. I was 17 years old and I was scared. I'm now 40 years old and I'm still scared. Oh, not the same kind of scared that I felt back then. No, back then I was walking into a totally unfamiliar world full of violence and grown men that wanted to fuck a youngster like me. I was afraid of the unknown and wondering if I was going to have what it takes to survive in it...I survived, or parts of me did, and that unfamiliar world has, as I sit here tonight, become all to familiar to me. What scares me today is the unfamiliar world that is outside these walls and wondering if I have what it takes to survive in it...or even if I'll have another chance. This is what I'm thinking about tonight and consumes part of my thoughts nearly every night. Now that Gary has created an opportunity for people in these cages to express their thoughts through a journal instead of rehashing them over and over in our mind, I am going to use the opportunity to learn a little more about myself. This is new to me and I guess I'll learn as I go. One thing I won't do is turn this into a pity parlor about poor me mixed with ranting and raving about what the world owes me. It's not about that. But it is going to be about honesty. Good ol' raw to the bone honesty! I've went through most of my life lying my ass off. I would lie just to see how quick I could tell another one to cover up the 1st one. Big lies, little lies, simple lies, elaborate lies, I didn't discriminate. I told them all equally and just as often. So, a long with this journal, this honesty thing is kind'a uncharted waters for me, but if you're up for it we'll hoist this sail and drift on out to sea and along the way I'll tell ya about how I came to be sitting here tonight looking cockeyed crazy at these walls and listening to the squeaky wheels of the chow cart as some bonehead pushes it through the cellblock yelling "BREFUSS! Get up mutha fukaz, it's BREFUUSS!"

3 December 2006

3 steps to...3 steps back. That's the length of my cage and for 23 hours a day, the length of my physical world...but not my mental world. There are no wire, walls and iron doors that can harness my mind. The 3 steps that I walk daily turn into an endless journey with out my even realizing it. Today I traveled back to Overland Park, Kansas, to one of my earliest memories when I was 2 " or 3. I know the age from my Grandma telling me when we lived there. What I remember most about that house is for whatever reason I was scared to death of Ronald McDonald. At that time I don't remember ever having seen him, yet I knew what he looked like and he terrorized me. I remember many nights I would wake up in the bed I slept in paralyzed with fear that he was under my bed. I had a teddy bear that was bigger than me who I called titty and would put him by the side of my bed thinking that if Ronald reached to get me he would get titty 1st. I didn't put him there in hopes he would "protect me" because somehow I knew he couldn't. I put him in harms way in order to save my own ass. I knew this then and I know this now. Growing up this was a familiar pattern for me, but as I got older it was one of the 1st things I corrected about myself. I remember one night in particular where I laid in bed so scared that I crapped myself and laid there balling until my grandma came and got me, cleaned me up and put me in bed with them. I always felt safe there. Also, in that same house I would wake up in the night and get out of bed and go to my grandparents' room while they were sleeping and gently pull their eyelids down to make sure they were asleep. I have no idea why I would do this but that is how I determined if they were asleep. Then I would get under their bed and pull out my grandpa's rifle and sit on the floor and play with it. I don't remember how I knew it was there. I never got caught doing this and I have no idea why I would do this. It scares me a little when I think about it. This was in the 60s with not a lot of emphasis on gun safety...I look back now and thing that something was wrong with that house. I have several strange memories from that place. We only lived there for a year or so and when we left I don't remember being scared of Ronald anymore or any other strange night time trips to my grandparents' bedroom.

I hear the squeaky wheels making its slow approach from down the way...no screaming BREFUSS this morning, just the banging of the food slots as they are slammed open by the guard who's in a hurry because when he's finished feeding his shift is up and he gets to go home...I can't say I blame him, I'd be hurrying too. In fact, I'd be bustin' ass! I know what it is before it gets here...2 undercooked pancakes, hardly any syrup, grits and apple sauce. It never changes except on the rare occasions when they replace the cakes with a scoop of scrambled eggs...in the world BREFUSS is my favorite meal...I guess that's why I wait up like an idiot for it every night. When you start letting go of the little things before you know it you're left holding nothing at all, and the only thing after that is just to let go.

8 December 2006

I've been taking a stroll to and fro' across this endless highway that serves as the floor to this cage and listening to the news. It's part of my routine. Before I work out, do any writing or reading, or take a lil' trip somewhere else I always listen to the news 1st. it usually pisses me off in some kind of way and in turn I'll get a few extra push ups in to rid myself of the frustration of what I hear happening in the world...happening in our country...to our country. I listen to all the news stations and talk shows to see if one if offering something the others are not. I think they all read from the same Q-card. There is no such thing as investigation journalism any more, just Q-cards read by clones in make up. It's more about eye candy/ear candy for the public. Who looks the best or has the best voice for the Q-card. I hear that more and more people are getting their news from the Net because there is a variety of opinions and reporting. This, I think, is a good thing. I think people are starting to get tired of the same old "AP" bullshit. The sooner the big papers with political agendas become a thing of the past, all the better. They push their political agendas down our throat by how and what they choose to report, giver a weather report and then dedicate the rest of the program to what Paris Hilton has to say about Britney, or what "TomKat" spent on their wedding while the family just home from 2 jobs watch this meaningless drive and feel somehow accomplished...what has been on my mind for the past few days is the "Hate Law" that came into effect in the 90s and how it has been perverted and directed at the white man. Before you label me a "racist," etc, etc, I challenge anyone to hit the Net and find one...ONE...crime that was prosecuted as a Hate Crime where the defendant was not white. Now look at the number of white victims in our society and ask yourself, 'none of these crimes were motivated by the victim's race, gender and religion?' I've lived with some very disturbed people in these warehouses over the years and I've heard their stories and their 'real reasons' behind their crimes. What brought this up is the life of a young man that this law ruined a few days ago...it started last year when a 17 year old kid and a 16 year old kid (white) beat this 17 year old kid extremely bad and even tried to violate him with an umbrella pole. They did this because the kid had tried to kiss a 12 year old Hispanic girl. It was a disgusting crime that there was no justification for. However, the sheriff made statements for a week that there was nothing to indicate that it was a hate crime motivated by race and would not be investigated as one...but I guess the "AP" knows more about crime then the sheriff department because they ran Hate Crime in big bold letters enough times across their front page until the Hispanic community finally picked up on it and demanded "justice." These are the people who put the sheriff in office, not some skinny ass white kid who drank too much and took things way too far. The sheriff caved in and the white kid was sacrificed to the wolves of the media...today I hear that his court appointed attorney relied on Jesus to save his client....he asked the jury to let Jesus enter their hearts and determine the punishment. I wonder if the same would'a worked at OJ's trial? I guess Jesus was either pissed off or busy because they sentenced him to life...in Texas that's just what it means - LIFE. To please an anti-white media they ruined a young man and placed another burden on the tax payer. The person that stays in the cage next to me is a black man who "Fucked up uh ol' rich white bitch" (his words) and received 12 years. He'll be back out there with you in a few years. A man was charged in Chicago today with trying to buy hand grenades so he could blow up Jews and Christians in a mall during holiday shopping hours. This wasn't motivated by "HATE"? It wasn't charged as one. I'm not suggesting that we don't need "Hate Laws" because I think there is a place for them and crimes that fit the definition and should be prosecuted as such. But if hate doesn't motivate the crime don't pervert it until the media has what they themselvescreated. Sometimes these "White Supremacist's" that they headline so often are nothing more than misguided, confused youngsters that would benefit more from counseling and parental guidance than to be discarded and thrown to the wolves, deemed unfit and unredeemable for society. Who are the monsters behind the guise that can so freely make these judgments of human lives and force feed it to the public until, through overkill, their opinion/agenda is shared? ...Anyway, this has been on my mind these past few days and I feel better after voicing it. Now I think I'll hit this highway, pop the clutch, and see what's down this ol' blacktop...

17 December 2006

For the past week I've been busy working on my appeal. I had to respond to the brief the state filed. Having to work on your own case is kind'a intimidating when you think of the staff and computers the state has at their disposal. Here in Ad-Seg we can only order 2 books 3x a week from the law library. If what we're looking for is not in them then we start again the next week. This lop-sided battle becomes even more clear when you read the heading of the brief...THE STATE OF TEXAS vs. ...and then there's your name...when the rest of your life is at stake this is a hell of uh beast to have to battle with. I have a better shot than most as I have legit constitutional violations...so I'll see I guess. A lot of guys come to this warehouse with 40, 50, 60 years of their natural life sentence and don't spend one day in the law library learning the laws that put them here. They accept the sentence and learn the ins and outs of their new environment and continue in here with what they were doing out there. I've been locked up for most of my life, a fact that I'm ashamed of because it's a glaring reminder of my inability to live a lawful life in our society, but during all the years of my incarcerations I never once accepted life in the cage...even tho', through the eyes normalcy my life has been a failure, but I believe that as long as you keep fighting and trying to get it together then you haven't failed. Only when you stop fighting and give up have you accepted defeat and experience failure...or at least that's my theory;o)

Eve Winter Solstice, 2006

Tonight I want to talk about family...It's the eve of the starting of the Yule, and family is what Yule is about. The word "Yule" in the old tongue means "wheel" referring to continuous cycle of all of life including our cosmos. The winter solstice and the suns completion of its yearly cycle is just one example of this wheel that has been turning before man had a name for it. Tomorrow at sunset is "mother night", the 1st night of the Yule. On this night most pagans see the sun as a symbolic birth, when having descended into dark, seem to be "reborn" and begin its ascent again...we honor all mothers on this night, especially our life giving Mother Earth. She goes by many names. In the tradition of my folk, I call her Nerthus. I can't do much in this cage to stay with tradition, but I have made a candle that I will light in celebration of the wheel of life. When I was a kid I grew up in a town of around 350 people. I grew up in a trailer that sat behind a fire station (that was seldom used) and a church. My ol' man (grandfather) was a good hard working man, but he also took things too far when the need came up for a spanking, which seemed to be often. I was the youngest of 2 sisters and a brother and over the years we all took our share of getting the shit beat out of us...stories that when told don't seem possible, so perhaps I'll share some at another time. I only bring it up now to say that throughout the year I lived in a constant state of fear of doing something wrong and getting beat down for it...but starting Thanksgiving through Christmas everything was peaceful around my house. Growing up I don't have one bad memory of xmas...not one. And I love my ol' man for giving me that. We would buy our tree the 1st week of December and my grandmother and us kids would decorate it while my ol' man would watch from his chair. The decorations we used were the same family ornaments year after year...our tree was always beautiful. Nearly every year we'd have to hide a "bald spot" where the ol' man would get carried away with his "trimming" but other than that it was fine. I would often wonder while I was carrying away " the tree that just got "trimmed" 'why didn't we just get a smaller tree?' The cooking would start xmas eve...pies and cakes 1st. Twice a year we got my mom's (grandmother) "upsidedownpineapplecake" (gotta say it fast ;o). It was cooked the way it was meant to be...in a big deep skillet - upside down. I liked to watch when it was done because it was so heavy and hot that she would have to get my ol' man to flip it. He'd turn it over onto this plate and lift the skillet and like magic this beautiful golden cake would appear covered in hot caramelized pineapples. NEVER have I tasted a pineapple cake that could ever be in the same country as hers! Later in the evening us kids would go to church for the "Christmas play". I'd usually be a Shepard or something. They never trusted me enough to be the kid Jesus, even tho' my hair was red. Even when I was young I could never make the connection of xmas and Jesus. I understood what the taught us in Sunday school...but it just never fit for me. For the life of me I couldn't figure out what a big pretty tree had to do with him. I felt more drawn to that tree than I did to the lies they fed me in church. Of course I didn't know they were lies, but I do now. Anyway, I mostly went for the exchange of gifts. Gifts were far and few when I was growing up so I had to get em' where I could. Back at the house everything was lit up and smelling good. As a kid when I still believed in Santa, there would never be any gifts under the tree. Mom would out last us kids until we finally went to bed and then put them out and load the table with every kind of nut and candy and fruit that you can imagine...my sister would wake me up hours before sunrise and we would raid the house trying to be quiet while we checked all our presents. One year I changed the names and put my name on all the bigger presents. That didn't go over too well. Later, when I got older, mom would put the presents out a week or so before...but she'd always hold one or two back;-) Our tree would stay up until new years. Now I know that the "Ever-Green" tree is the symbol of "The World Tree" and the cycle of life. It's the one tree that remains alive and green through all of the cycles. The ornaments and lights represent our cosmos. This tree and its symbols can be traced back to the northern tribes of Europe and their world tree that they called "Yggdrasil" the tree of life. Some of its symbols are found in the 1500 bc era and before. Now I know why I felt a connection to the tree and not a manger story...anyway, tonight this is what I'm thinking about. Around me I hear a roar of screaming and yelling, cursing and threats, and I wonder what they think about?...

25 December 2006

I've been sitting here for the past few hours listening to the "nightriders" do what they do every night...scream and yell, and otherwise disrupt the silence. Usually around this time until 5:30 am there is some " ass quiet time when even the stupids lay down for awhile. It's "xmas" morning in the world and my hopes are that there are no unhappy kids this morning...at least it doesn't hurt to wish it. Around here we look forward to one thing...well, two things. The 1st is fresh fruit. Twice a year, Thanksgiving and Xmas, we get an apple and orange. That's the only fruit we get here in Texas and believe me EVERYONE looks forward to it! Some people sacrifice this small luxury to sell their fruit so that they can get some hygiene stuff or whatever. I've done that a few times myself. (If Texas would pay 5 or 10 bucks a month for working in the fields...) The 2nd thing is mail. We always like it better when it's not a holiday and mail runs. Even though a lot of us don't get any there is always that chance...other then the fruit today will drag through like any other. Some people sit around feeling sorry for themselves...others make it a point to let every one know as often as possible that they don't believe in Christmas (when asked why it become obvious that they "don't believe" because they don't understand any of the celebrations and think it's just a "white man's holiday"). And then there are those who go out of their way to be "jolly" and up-beat, trying to life others up with them. Me, I don't feel sorry for myself. I reflect back and think of the good memories as a child and adult. There is a small crack in the back corner of my wall where my neighbor and I can talk with out having to yell. He's an old black dude and will probably die in here. Earlier tonight we talked and shared Christmas stories. As I listened to him I realized that a lot of people could learn a lot from that old man...as hard as his life has been he talked like everyday was fulla gold...

1 January 2007

I'm thankful that '07 came in without any bombs going off in shopping malls or crowded gatherings here in the U.S. With all of the craziness going on in the world and our government keeping us in the middle of most of it, I can't help but wonder when it's going to happen here. I'm the type of person that sees the cup as " full and don't sit around all day waiting on the worst...but I also live in the now & not in a wannabe wonderland. I see what our elected puppets are doing to appease the big money corporations who funded their campaign. They continue to "re-interpret" our constitution and condone legislation that gives statutory approval to laws that are harmful to our so-called "freedom" that they claim to be defending. And they condone the rape of our resources in the short-term interests of economic gain for the elite few...its not only here...Bush has taken it global at the expense of American blood...I just worry that the blood will start being spilled over here by moms & children.

Here in this warehouse it's just another day for most of us. Some are a day closer to going home and others are a day closer to finishing their life in here. Usually at midnight on New Year's Eve everybody takes the opportunity to bang the hell out of their door and scream & yell to bring in the New Year, but this year was quiet for some reason. I've brought in many new years in these places and this is the first time there wasn't a roar of noise for 5 or 10 minutes. It was kind of creepy...this year will be a big one for me. My case is before Federal court & I will know if it will be reversed or if I'll remain here. The not knowing part is what is difficult...The last new year's day I was free found me on the road coming from Kentucky back to Texas with my long time girlfriend riding shotgun. Nine days later found me behind bars, so I remember the last New Year's Day and the last days very well. I sit in this cage and re-live them often. When a man loses his freedom it's always the last few days that are always the ones that are re-lived the most. Not because they are the most recent, but because you always play mind games with yourself about what you coulda/shoulda done different in those final days that may have extended your freedom. Seldom a day goes by that I don't find myself travelin' that road...

3 January 2007

Twice a week I get an hour of "outside rec." I look forward to this because it's the only fresh air I get. The rec yard is around a 10ft square with tall walls around it so that you can't see out but the top is open so you can see the sky. I was the first one out this morning and it was still dark out with a big beautiful full moon hanging in the sky. After 10 minutes of looking at it and soaking in its cleansing glow I felt like a new man. I could feel all the tension and stress of the past week drain out of me and be replaced by a nourishing glow. This is what I've been needing. It's amazing how something as simple as that can fix so much...Then as an added gift, as dawn gave way to the sunrise the sleeping sparrows that next around the top brought the morning to life with the sound of their music. Luckily in the rec cage next to mine was a guy who was content with listening to them as I was and didn't run them off by talking or bouncing the ball. It was the best hour I've had in a long time. The best part is that it has carried over into the day...

It's about time for the state-wide "shakedown" around here. Twice a year we are locked down for 10 or 20 days while everybody gets their cell shook down and alot of stuff thrown away. During this time we are fed what are called "Johnny Sacks." It's a smear of peanut butter on two breads, a cold cut on two breads w/ some prunes. This is 3x a day until the lockdown is over and we get a hot meal. I really believe that the purpose of this lockdown twice a year is so the state can save some money. For two weeks they get to operate at " staff (lots of officers take their vacation at this time) they serve only peanut butter and old cold cuts and any money Inmates have on their accounts sits in the states account and collects interest. The units where the "field workers" are needed are only locked down for a few days while everywhere else is 2 or 3 weeks. Nothing is found during these shakedowns that would justify the long lockdowns. Officers shake down cells every day anyways. The main thing that is "found" are out-of-date mags or newspapers. They also use this as an opportunity to take your headphones and radio if there is any indication that they have been altered. "Altered" can be as little as a piece of tape on your headphones to hold them together where they've cracked. They are made of hard brittle plastic and always break within a few days after buying them. They know this but they make a killin' off selling them, taking them when they break, and selling a new pair...Anyway, I say its about time for the shakedown because every year just before they lock us down the meals will consist of alot of old tasting food and alot of noodle hookups, like they are trying to clean out all of the old stuff and make room for the next six month supply. The last few days have been really bad noodle trash, so I'll see if my tie in with the food is the prelude to the lockdown...If it is then I can honestly say that I have entirely too much time on my hands! Maybe the New Year will bring me a pen pal & I'll have something to do other than try and make a noodle tie in with the intentions of the state...In a way, this journal writing is like a pen pal without the "pal." Kinda like good luvin' without a partner...gets the job done...sorta...damn sure beats a blank!

8 January 2007

I received a letter from my mom yesterday. It's the first time in a long time. I was raised by grandparents and only seen my mom a handful of times over the years until I was 14 and left home and stayed with her & my dad off and on for the next few years until I found my way to prison. The few visits we had wasn't due to the lack of her trying to see us...there was alot of BS in her way. Anyway, we've had an up & down relationship. It seems that we always find something to half ass fight about. Most of the times it's been my fault. For a long time I think i held a resentment towards her for not being in my life all those years. I didn't think I did, but it's the only thing that can explain some of my thoughtless actions that I would do that would end up hurting her. I've let that lady down alot more than she ever has me...she's always forgiven me. Anyways, it was so good to hear from her & get news of how everyone in my family is doing. I always enjoy hearing when they are all doing well...but at the same time it reminds me of what I've accomplished in my life...literally nothing. That is the truth and sometimes it's hard to face that and accept responsibility for it without making excuses or trying to blame it on someone else. For most of my life that is what i would do...I found an excuse or scapegoat for everything I did. My mom, without even realizing it, has helped me grow up. It's too late in my life to turn back pages and do things different. All I can do is use what I've learned to make me a better person today. Hopefully along the way I can make up for a few of the disappointments I've given my mom & family...

17 January 2007

I can't remember my last entry, but I think it's been more than a couple of weeks. I have been head & shoulders in preparing a response to the Attorney General's brief that I received earlier this month. I wasn't expecting it until February, so it kinda caught me flat-footed. This is my last legitimate shot at overturning this monster so I haven't been able to focus on much else. Now it's back to the waiting game...the hardest part.

Two good things happened for me over the last week. 1st, I was able to place a pen-pal ad on "Inmatemailpals.com." Now even if I don't receive any responses the possibility is there and that alone will give me something to look forward to, whereas before I pretty much knew that the mail cart was going to pass me by...now, who knows? The 2nd thing was I received a nice book. It's "America, The Last Best Hope" by William Bennett. It's the history of America from its discovery to 1914. It's more than just a history. It takes you deeper into the lives of the great men that shaped our country and brings light to the many times that this country nearly didn't make it. I've learned more from this book than from all other "American History" books combined. It discusses slavery from every angle. Some see that part of our history as a stain that overshadows all the good. We didn't create slavery...but we ended it. That should count for something...anyways, it's a great book and I'm thankful for it.

21 January 2007

We're on lockdown here for the totally unnecessary 2 to 3 week long shakedown. I was a little off on the connection I was trying to make with the "old tasting food" being the prelude to the shakedown, so I guess a future with a crystal ball and a 1-900 number is out. We've only been 2 days into it and I'm already missing that old tastin' food! A cold cut on stale bread with a smear of peanut butter on more stale bread and a small sack of prunes 3x a day tends to get old. There are only so many ways for ya to pretend its something else & usually those options are exhausted in the first few days. They throw more salt in the wound by only letting us shower 3x a week (twice more than some of these ol' boys are used to so it's a step up for them.) And turning down the hot water to the point where it's "almost warm." This serves two purposes...they save money & it discourages people from even wanting to go. I go just to get out of this cage for the short 30 ft walk to a somewhat larger cage. When I get back I'm shivering for " an hour and wondering why the hell I did that!

25 January 2007

I was "cleaning house" today and throwing out anything that will probably get thrown out when they get around to tearing up this cell block. I was looking through my pictures (I don't do that often) and I stopped, like I always do, on a picture of me when I was around 2, sitting on my Grandpa's lap. I always wonder what I was thinking...and that's always followed by wondering what the hell happened?

I was the youngest of four kids that my grandparents raised...and the only redhead. In fact, I was the only redhead in several counties as far as I knew. This had its good points...the girls liked it and when I was little, the "mothers" all fawned over it and wanted to give my orange head a hug which was fine by me because I was a boobie baby & any time I could rest my head against their comfort and get hugs & snuggles I was more than willing. To me there was no better place in the world to be. There was a safe comfort zone there...it had its bad points too. It made it difficult to get away with all the mischief I was always in search of as my head stood out like an orange vest during deer season! It made playing basketball dangerous as well. More than once I had my head grabbed and nearly dribbled. My brother, Lester, seemed to make this mistake often. Lester was the oldest of us four kids, then my sister Shawnie, and 2 years older than me my sister Arnetta. Lester was 6 years older and made the most of it every time we were alone or he was bored by cuffing my head and giving me wedgies. When he was feeling extra brotherly he would yank my ol' fruit of the looms up between my shoulders until my feet was off the ground & I was dangling and then cuff the hell outta the back of my head with his free hand. He called this move "puppet time." He said that this was how brothers showed love. I always wondered why I didn't get to show him any love. I learned that this was reserved for little brothers only. Looking back I realize that even though we shared a bedroom the size of a mop closet for 10 years of our lives, I never really knew him. Oh, I knew the basic stuff one learned about his brother, but the older he got the further he grew away from everyone. He was extremely secretive with his thoughts and feelings, and looking back now I realize that he kept alot of shit bottled up inside of him. We all did...he was my hero for many years.

Shawnie, my oldest sister, was probably the most sensible out of us. She was the lone white sheep, the protective mother hen, and the mediator when we were fighting. She would usually tell the truth about things or when she was in trouble. As much trouble as I stayed in I couldn't understand "why" she would tell the truth. Truth or lie, you were fixin' to get your ass busted up so why not tell the lie and maybe catch a reprieve? That was what my young mind thought. She also liked school and church, something else that I couldn't quite grasp. School to me was a place for me to scheme up "things to get away with" and church just flat out sucked. But for all of her good, ol' sis wasn't an angel. She was the first to forgive when she was mad at you, but mean as hell when she was mad! Her wrath wouldn't come with a full frontal assault most of the time. No, she would use more subtlety than that. It may come a few days later at breakfast in the innocent form of salty, lumpy oatmeal, or a glass of milk that was on the verge of no longer being "just milk." Or if she was really pissed it may come with a well aimed squirt on your bare ass from a can of Right Guard. Yea, I know that this sounds harmless enough, but I can assure you that having been the recipient of it on several occasions it's about as comfortable as wiping your ass with a red hot cockle-bure. She was like Annie Oakley with that can, she NEVER missed! This was largely due to the aerosol nozzle itself. It sat up there on top of that can all big & orange, looking about as harmless as a warhead on a scud missile. The instructions read to hold 6" from your underarm and spray. It never said that this "spray" would cover an area from your elbow to your waist & halfway around your back and chest. That shit was like a crop duster and my sister the seasoned pilot.

Arnetta was the closest to me in age and was my partner in crime for as far back as I can remember. Where Shawnie would tell the truth, Arnetta would lie like a politician and often did. She could plead a case better than Perry Mason. Sometimes when a flash of orange was seen running away from a crime scene and I was under suspicion of being the source of that flash and the culprit of the crime, whether it be something serious like starting a small fire or just ornery like pissing on the neighbors flowers, I would often ask her assistance in coming up with a story that could halfass be believed, or at least throw some shadow on the truth. A shadow could be the difference of being sent to my room or catching an ass whippin' by the closest thing at hand. Sometimes when a mere story wasn't enough she would step in as the innocent eyewitness to the whole thing. By the time that girl was done I would be the hero who first saw the fire and went to put it out and was seen running away only because I was running "to get help." By the time she was done I was convinced that that was how it happened too. More than a few times she lost her case and would get her ass busted up along with mine. Many times we shared the same belt welts from neck to heel, but that never stopped her from steppin' up to the plate for me or me for her...we were nocturnal by nature and after everyone else would go to bed she would sneak to my room or me to hers and we would sit up talking and "making plans." I'm not sure what we were planning but it seemed important at the time as it took many hours outta our sleep...she ran away when she was 13 and I didn't see her again for nearly 15 years. The years had changed but our bond was as strong as ever...

28 January 2007

OOOOOWEEEeeee! I'm recently back from a rather invigorating "almost warm" shower...Okay, lets be real, that puppy was nowhere close to warm. It was the temperature where if you're a guy, all extremities smaller than an arm or leg "presto!" just disappears nearly to the point of alarm. But it's a small price to pay for that 30 ft stroll. One of these days, if this appeal comes through, I'm going to stroll right on past that shower, right on out the front door, and down the road to anywhere...preferably it'll pass by a Hooters & my future wife, but I'll settle for a platter of hot-n-spicy wings & a pretty smile. Damn its been a long time since I've seen a smile that wasn't attached to a beard. Even the German nurse that works here...a wonderful, wonderful older lady that I enjoy getting a few words in with when I can...she has a shadow that rivals mine. I don't say that to be mean. Speaking of her, over the past few months I've been learning to speak German. I've had the book for a long time but never got into it because I didn't think I could learn it. I've tried to learn spanish for years & can only order a beer or blame something on your cat. It just never caught on with me. This German comes easy for me. I'm where I can pronounce nearly any word and can converse in a few simple sentences. Speaking it feels good on my tongue. Anyways, every now and then I get to run a little by the nurse that I'm not sure of and she corrects me on sounds that I'm off on. I'll be on the lookout for a German to English dictionary before long so I can cover the whole language. Now that I know that I can do it on my own I'm going to put a Gaelic language on my list. I think Gaelic is the prettiest language there is. One of my facorite shows on the radio comes on once a week for 2 hours and is called "The Celtic Connection." Some of the songs are in English but most are in Gaelic. There is nothing that moves my spirit more than the harp and flute speaking softly as a girl sings a ballad in her native tongue. It's beautiful. I don't need to understand the words because my heart feels each one. This is coming from a man who has banged his head to everything from European death metal all the way down to a real hillbilly hoedown with bluegrass music. I have a taste for all of it except the rap/hip hop that hasn't been able to expand their focus beyond the female posterior. I guess forcing this music down our throats on 90% of the stations and glamorizing that lifestyle while reducing our daughters to not much more than ass is a good way to dumb down a certain age group and keep their focus off what's happening in their government and the world around them...let me pump the brakes and slow down before I get going down a different road...after I get the German tongue down and know how to order all 32 types of native sausage (that's a lotta sausage folks...seems they loooove their sausage & beer!) I want to move on to Gaelic so I can romance a nice Irish girl...or not so nice. This didn't go over too well with the nurse here. She was taking my blood pressure one day last week and I told her in German that the light high lights the pretty colors in her hair and that I liked her shoes. She started laughing and said I needed some work...I had told her that the light showed her gray and the shoes made her feet look like ducks, but I liked them...

31 January 2007

It's nearly two weeks into the lockdown and the feeling of something not being quite right has been on me for a week now, but I haven't been able to put my finger on it...now I think I know. See, in prison, when you're in an administrative segregation unit nearly all of your "normal" interaction with humanity and the activities of your immediate surroundings are reduced to what you can see and hear through a piece of wire mesh "window" welded to your cage door. Seldom are you able to have a face to face conversation with anyone. Conversation consists of yelling out the door to someone you can't see, or through the vent to the person above or below you. Because what you can see has been restricted to a small area you rely heavily on your hearing and over a period of time you pretty much know what is going on around you without actually seeing it. Certain sounds mean certain activities. No two are alike, and it becomes routine listening and recognizing...what's been "missing" is the sound of the breakfast chow cart as it makes its squeaky way through the building. I'm always up when the squeakin' starts between 3 and 4 am every morning. It fits into part of my morning routine as a sort of clock. When I first hear it I know it'll be another 45 minutes before it reaches my cage, and this gives me time to finish up my lite workout and wash up. With this lockdown on, all the meals come at irregular times and in the form of a brown sack tossed through the food slot in the door in a hurried "drive-by"...no squeaky wheel to let me know the day has started...I'll survive just fine without it, but it has been a silent question in my mind wondering what was missing. Wow, how trivial is that? I've reached a point in life where I'm trippin' on squeaky wheels...damn shame.

2 February 2007

Something unusual happened to me last night...I received a letter! Well, it was kinda like a letter, close enough so to call it one. I was laying there on my water bed (they just mixed too much concrete with it) locked in that slumber just between wakefulness and sleep, fixin' to fade on out and take a trip lookin' for Dorothy & Toto when in the distance I heard the sound of mail being passed out. Every now and then I would hear the clicking of keys against one another and a muffled "what's your number." This told me that it was Mr. Brow passing it out. He has everything imaginiable strapped to his belt...keys, cuffs, gas, club, walkie talkie, plastic coffee mug, latex gloves, compact first aid kit, condensed version of the rule book in case he has to write a ticket, and a jumbo tube of Anusol...Mr. Brow claims that we're a pain in his ass. All of this stuff is on his belt which is around his rather round 5' 5" frame and it causes him to click and jingle when he walks. He is extremely thorough in whatever he does. It irritates everyone when he passes out mail because he takes so long between each letter. He has a routine that never changes...he'll stop in front of your door and look at the letter then pull it closer to his eyes for inspection. Then he'll hold it at arms length for further scrutiny, then he'll compare that info with the info on your door card that has your picture, name, number, etc. If everything matches and he's satisfied he'll then grunt and suddenly look at you from over the top of the letter then just as suddenly look at your picture on the door. He'll dart his eyes from you to the picture several times in quick succession until you start to wonder if the ol' boy got stuck in a nervous twitch and may need help getting unstuck. About the time you're fixin' to either ask about his well being or start cursing him, he'll freeze his eyes on you, cock an eyebrow, and ask "what's your name & number, offender?" At this point is when a lot ofpeople snap and start arguing with him or cursing. Mr. Brow will stand there tapping his foot making everything on him click and jingle until the cursing and hollering stops, then he'll say "I bet if you want this letter you'll remember your name and number!" It doesn't matter if you have one piece of mail or 20, Mr. Brow will go through the same routine with each letter and always end with "What's your name & number, offender?" The hell of it is, he knows every name already! Personally, I've never had a problem with his thoroughness as it ensures that the right people will get the mail...anyways, I hear him coming but I'm not really tripping on it. I doubt that I have any anyways. I know that I just placed a pen-pal ad on inmatemailpals.com but I'm sure that it hasn't had time to work yet so I've made up my mind to stay in bed if he does happen to stop. If you're asleep he'll usually slide your mail under the door. So with this decision made I let myself drift a little deeper in that world of escape. I was somewhere on my way to Hooters when in my dream world I heard a "click" that didn't belong in the dream. It came to me that Mr. Brow had stopped in front of my cage. I was outta that bed like my feet were on fire and my ass was catchin' & made it to the door in a single bound that woulda rivaled any "single bounds" that superman may have done...though I may not have looked as good doing it in my boxers and one sock halfway off. Mr. Brow was just pulling the letter close to his face for inspection when I got to the door looking cockeyed crazy at the piece of mail in his hand. It was in a regular business size envelope and as I threw the hawk eye on it analyzing size, thickness, and weight I could tell that it was no more than a page. As Mr. Brow extended his arm out to further eyeball things I caught a flash of the handwriting on the address. This told me three things. It wasn't from anyone I knew...the name John Hobbs was written in blue ink in a nice even female hand and the address was in black ink with more of a manly hand. 3rd it told me that this could possibly be from and unstable person with dual personalities...we should get along fine. About this time I heard his grunt so I looked up there and he was looking at me from over the top of the letter. Next came the quick eye movement from me to the door card...back & forth like he was going to catch something in the middle of changing. I'm tapping my foot waiting for him to make up his mind and find a place to stop but for some reason its taking longer than usual. Then it dawns on me. The photo on my door is a bad black & white copy and has my skin looking VERY dark. So I tell this to Mr. Brow and ask if he'd like to see my ID. He says that unless it's the same picture that's on my door then that won't tell him anything. I remind him that he knows who I am 'cause he just gave me a ticket last week for "creating a disturbance." He said, "Oh I remember, you said that I resembled something that fell outta Herman Munster's tailpipe! Now what's your name & number offender?" I quickly rattle it off and Mr. Brow informs me that I need to get with my mama about who my daddy "really" was 'cause my picture is a little dark and pictures don't lie...then he slides the letter through he door and I snatch it outta his hand quick enough to damn near leave a paper cut. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't let a comment about my mama go undefended, but this letter with dual handwriting had my attention and I was trying to figure out who it was from because it didn't have a return address on it. The faded postmark read "Rochester NY" I held up my hand to one by one count the people I knew from Rochester...none. So I did what I had been dying to do since I first laid my feasting eyes on it...I ripped it open like a pit bull on a ham bone and snatched the letter out...thankfully the whole letter was written in the same blue ink and nice female script as my name on the envelope. I was surprised to learn that it was a freshman at Cornell who was volunteering at P.E. and reading and typing up my journal (ol' Gary must be snatchin' them up as soon as their feet hit the campus! ;o) It was basically a short letter encouraging me to continue and totally made my night! In fact, I may need to contact the ol' German nurse to see about something to relieve the pressure in my head as it seems to have grown a little. All I can say is thank you...and I'll try to be more mindful of my terrible spelling and grammar...uh, then again, probably not.

4 February 2007

It's Super Bowl Sunday and the atmosphere is festive here in this human warehouse. Only a few times a year does it get festive, and each one revolves around major sporting events...or the release and arrival of the latest Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition...even this in its own way could be considered a sporting event...kinda. It's still several hours from the game but that doesn't hinder everyone breaking down and giving their thoughts on the game...which usually ends in an argument. On this day you'll find your professional sports minds with their analysis of each team and how they match up together. You'll hear from the "historian" who'll rattle off a few games from the 80's and try to tie their outcome in with the outcome of this game...for example "All peoples been screamin' about is how good the defense of the '86 Bears was. Well, that pisses this bears defense off so they're gonna stud-up and shut Indy down!" ...uh, ooo-kay. Then you'll have your few that tells the story of how they were due to play college ball for some major college but they tore their knee out during a TD run in the last high school game of the year...this translates to he dropped outta school in the 7th grade and has never been on a field in his life unless it was out here in one of these prison fields pullin' weeds...but it's Super Bowl Sunday and most stories don't get challenged...any other day a story like that wouldn't fly. Then you have all your sports bookies taking bets and giving odds...a mini Vegas without the ladies (at least the real ones) and where the money consists of ramen noodle soups, coffee, stamps...whatever one has to put up. We're being fed brown bags right now and a few people are even betting them. I'm not real excited about winning another smear of peanut butter on stale bread, so I'll pass on that. Then of course, you'll have the few that hasn't caught up with everyone else yet and will listen to the game on a station that is broadcasting 30 seconds behind the station that everyone else is listening to. You know who they are because after the play is over and the station has gone to a commercial you'll hear a couple people break out in a cheer or cursing, depending on which team they're betting on, and run to the door talking about it like it just happen...by this time everyone else is back on the game and they're at commercial. This happens all the time and never ceases to amaze me...anyway, I'm ridin with Indy. Lets hope that Bears D ain't too pissed off about what happen in '86!

6 February 2007

Now that the super bowl is over conversation has taken a strange twist here in the warehouse. Today the main topic of conversation is the breakdown of the cosmos...its true. Suddenly the cell block is full of amateur astrologers, NASA experts, and Star Trek specialists. This is due to the light show that was witnessed by many in several states in the Midwest as a meteorite broke up and shot flaming balls across the sky...this gives new meaning to the Jerry Lee Lewis classic song "Great Balls of Fire." I better leave that one alone...but just that alone isn't what brought out the experts. No, it was that combined with the news of Ms. Novack, an astronaut who sped from Houston to Orlando to confront a lady over a fellow astronaut. Ms. Novack used her years of NASA training to ensure she made a swift trip...she wore a diaper so to avoid bathroom stops. Is it just me or is there something extremely unusual about that? Talk about girls gone wild! Never did I think I would wake one day to the news of an astronaut gone postal while brandishing a hammer, can of pepper spray, and latex gloves...all while wearing a diaper. Strange indeed. Anyways, this has brought out all the Spocks today and I can hear discussions of every type, but the one that caught my attention was someone trying to explain to someone else what those "clusters of stars" were...according to him, "constipations"...I guess, in its own way, this fits in with the whole diaper theme.

8 February 2007

I can remember living in a few different places before we finally settled on a small 60x100 lot in a small Missouri town. When I say "small" that's what I mean. The population hovered in the area of 325. The sign when you come into town read 365 but everyone knew that was back in the day when things were booming. The town had a granary, a small general store where the candy bars were always out-dated and stale, a post office, gas station, lumber yard, & three churches. The town was small enough that when someone broke wind everyone knew and one of the churches was sure to be talking about it come Sunday service. The school was K through 12 and all in the same small building. The town also had a bigass silver water tower, and this is where I lived, right below it. My "home" was surrounded by the back of a church on the east side, the side of the lumber yard on the north, back of an unmanned fire station with an old truck from the 30's on the west side, and the water tower to the south. These provided places for me to "explore." I could gain entry into each one without it being detected and over the years I became well acquainted with each...as with nearly everywhere in town. I would rarely take anything. For me it was more of an adventure. I had friends but I could only play with them while at school. I wasn't allowed to have any come over and I wasn't allowed to go to any of their houses. Usually after school I was made to sit at the kitchen table to do "homework" until it was bedtime. So on the occasions when I was allowed outside I would look for adventure and these buildings provided it. As I grew older I would wait until everyone went to bed and then sneak out of the house for real adventure. More than once I would come back from an all night excursion to find the window I slipped out of closed and a light on in the house. Seeing this would always give me the most sickening feeling...it was a terrible, terrible feeling. I knew who was up and I knew I had to come through the front door and meet him...and I knew the longer I made him wait the worse it would be. Sometimes it got a little out of hand and there wouldn't be a spot that I could lay on that didn't burn from the belt welts. Sometimes he would use just his hands and I much rather preferred that. His hands would get tired and it usually wouldn't go on as long unless he picked something up. But that damn belt seemed to go on a long time and didn't care where it landed. But in defense of my ol' man...he never took the punishment he handed out to this level unless it was something that was serious like sneaking out or stealing. Any other time he'd beat the shit outta ya but it was over pretty quick. He was raised with a bunch of brothers in a poor country family and I guess his dad used to beat all of them pretty bad for the smallest thing. He was raised thinking this was how you kept your kids in line. His rules were don't ask questions and do as he says. He hated a thief and he hated a liar, and it seemed like when I would get caught stealing I'd try to lie to get outta it...it got ugly sometimes. I don't know why I would sometimes steal things because I wasn't raised that way. I guess because I wanted it or wanted some of the things the other kids had. Us kids never got anything like an allowance. Money was always tight, so if I was caught with any I had to think quick! I say that I musta stole because I wanted what other kids had, but this isn't entirely true because I can remember the very last time I stole anything and at that time in my young life I had toys and when my ol' man came home he would always let me have all the pennies and nickels in his pocket. I was between 3 and 4 years old and this is before he would beat any of us. Life was good for all of us. I remember seeing my mom (grandmother) putting money in a zippered bank bag (of courses I did not know what a bank bag was back then) and put it under her mattress. One day while I was supposed to be taking my afternoon nap I went into her bedroom and took four quarters out of it. I don't remember "why" I went in there and took them, but I remember why I chose the quarters. They were big & shiny. They wasn't to spend, they were to look at, I think. My brother Lester ended up taking them from me. But the point I'm trying to make is the first time I stole anything I did it on my own without being taught or shown how, or anything like that. I did it on my own and I knew it was wrong or I wouldn't have snuck in there to do it while my mom was busy and thought I was taking my nap...a few years later when everything turned to shit is when I would steal something for the monetary value. Usually so I could buy Arnetta and me some candy or whatever. But the bottom line is this...for all the things my ol' man did that were fucked up, there are a few things he didn't do...he didn't condone stealing, lying, laziness or disrespect to your elders. He raised me harsh by today's standards, but that's only because that's how he was raised. There was no Dr. Phil to tell 'em better and he wouldn't have listened anyways. ;o]> The direction I took in life is all on me, and like the band Stained says in the song "It's Been Awhile"...I can't blame this on my father...he did the best he could for me...

10 February 2007

Trying to live by my ol' man's rules of "don't ask why" when told to do something was always difficult for me because I was always the "why" kinda kid. Wanting to know why about everything came natural for me and I couldn't always suppress the urge to ask. If I was in arm's reach this was usually accompanied by a quick smack upside my head, or if walking away, a swift kick in the ass. I learned to ask why only when outta reach. Usually a dirty look and half a step my way would satisfy him and I would go do what I was told thinking that I had won a small victory. It wasn't that I was questioning his authority...I just wanted to know why. I'm still that way. I like knowing the why behind anything that I don't understand. I think it's a healthy thing...my ol' man apparently didn't.

My real ol' man was in prison for a $13 bad check when I was 1 and us kids became wards of the court. I learned that he would never sign the papers to give up his half of parental rights...but just the same, my mom gave us over to her dad. My first memory of my dad was when I was 3 or 4. Me and my mom (grandmother) was sitting in the car at a junkyard while my ol' man was doing something. Out of nowhere this tall good looking guy shows up at the car window and starts talking to me. I'm told it's my dad. I'm shy and scared and don't say anything. I just look at him while he smiles and talks. I feel drawn to him in ways that I couldn't understand back then. I remember his eyes watering up and this caused mine to and the next thing I know I'm bawlin' my ass off and don't know why. After this short encounter the weeks and months ahead was full of questions about him. My mom fielded most of these questions. I don't remember anything "good" ever being said about him and I got a one sided story that wasn't always accurate. Basically I was told that he wasa lazy crook that didn't want anything to do with his kids. I heard stories about him being in prison and running from the law and having to travel all over the country to stay ahead of the law, etc. One part of that was true. My dad was an outlaw and he had done time and he did move around a lot to stay a step ahead...but he was far from lazy and he did care about his kids. Things that he had done when he was young and crazy had loaded up on him so he went on the run and stayed on it for many years in order to avoid going back to prison for many years. The few times the law did catch up to him he was always able to escape from the jail he was in before he was sent to prison. So as the years went by a lot of charges piled up on him. But through these years him and my mom raised 3 other kids who are grown now. None of them has seen a day of jail in their live and all are doing well in life with good jobs, own their own homes, etc. So even thought it was an unorthodox lifestyle because of the circumstances, they turned out 3 good kids. They would stop in unannounced around once or twice a year and spend the afternoon with us, so I was able to see them from time to time while growing up. As I grew up I found myself always cheering for the bad guys on TV shows or in books...but only the "GOOD" bad guys. I learned about all of the old west outlawas like Jesse and Frank James, the Dalton brothers, Younger brothers, etc. These were outlawas from Missouri and their boyhood homes were "tourist attractions." Then there was Bonnie & Clyde and John Dillinger and all the other gangsters from that era. I would watch these movies and read the books and would see my dad in them. I didn't connect them with breaking the law, but as outlawas because that's what circumstances made them. I realize now that wasn't a very healthy way of thinking...but that's how I seen it back then and for many years to come. This romantic vision of the outlaw lifestyle played itself out in my young mind until at the age of 15 I took up the part.

12 February 2007

In a previous entry I had talked about the young kid that was sentenced to a life sentence for the "hate crime" that wasn't motivated by "hate" but rather a bad decision while being drunk and coked up. Anyways, I guess he has landed on one of these houses in Texas. I heard some people talking about it earlier and laughing about what is in store for him. The news here in the states has been suer to remind everyone every chance they had that this kid was some kind of big neo-nazi who hates all other races, etc. All of this came about because he had an older brother in California who was in a gang in prison out there, so automatically the younger brother must be following in the olders footsteps. Whether he was or wasn't I don't know, but I know that for weeks the sheriff went on record that this was not motivated by hate! Now the kid's coming to prison for the rest of his life and his first few years are going to be very hard. If he survives the first 6 months, hell, the first 6 days, then he has a chance of making it. If the Mexicans from Houston don't outright kill him at their first opportunity, then he can expect to be "rat packed" and beat unmercifully often. Lets all thank the media for this. They've pretty much put a nail in this kids coffin by creating this "white supremacist" cloud of bullshit around him. When the child molesters or rapists come to prison no one ever knows who they are because the media doesn't run with it, and everyone knows that child molesters catch hell. But it's OK to throw a kid to the wolves if he's white and they can tag any kind of racial label on him. People in the world all hear about these "White supremacist" gangs and how they're dangerous to all the other people who are trying to be good and go home. That is such a crock. Here in Texas the "Anglo" is so outnumbered it's pathetic. The Blacks and Mexicans make up easily 75% of the population. When a White guy comes in he is jumped on ASAP. If he fights then he'll have to fight often before he establishes himself. If he doesn't fight he can expect to put on a skirt and do all of the bidding of whatever gang has him. Wash their clothes, clean their cells, etc. This individual is flaunted in the face of other whites as "a weak White bitch." When a Black or Mexican comes to prison he doesn't have to go through any of this because his people take him in and school him. The "White supremacist" groups in here are guys that have paid their dues and have joined the best they can in their small numbers to try and take in the new white guys that are coming in and halfassed protect them until they can be schooled and learn what to expect. This doesn't always work because the numbers just don't match up. Because I try and help kids fresh in and get involved if he's jumped on by more than one guy, does this make me a racist? The administration would say so. In reality I don't give a damn what color you are. I don't hate anyone because their skin color is different than mine...but I strongly dislike people that do, and it doesn't matter how pretty you paint the picture, in prison we are preyed upon because of the color of our skin. I've experienced this for years so it doesn't surprise me when some guy gets out and he does commit a crime fueled by hate. The media will run with it...I just wish they would report on how that hate found its way into his heart. The administration makes it a point to keep the tension between the races and different gangs. They figure, and rightly so, that as long as we stay separated then we can't unite. When we unite is when it becomes dangerous for the administration. That's when the walking dead wakes up and as a unit refuse to work in their fields and factories without the benefit or earning good time or being paid a few dollars so that we can halfass provide for ourselves without asking family members...if you're fortunate enough to have some. The administration plays the race card heavy so that unity can't happen...a quick example of this...a few years ago I was transferred to a "working unit"--that's a unit with a lot of fields to be worked. When I got there I learned that there was a lot of tension in the air because the cell block I was on there was a lot of robberies going on. When the block would be released to go to chow certain officers would open up the cells of white guys and allow their stuff to get stolen. It was July, and July in Texas gets damn hot...fans was a commodity and sold well on the black market. I can't blame people who didn't have a fan for wanting one...if the state paid us to work everyone would have one...anyways, I got there in the middle of this. This 22-year-old named McAdoo (last name) got his fan stole and he wasn't going to accept it because his mom worked hard to be able to send him the money for that fan. That and he was just a stand up guy who refused to break. He was able to find out that it was some Bloods that had stole it. Well, everyone know that when you fight one gang member you fight them all. There were 6 in this particular group and the other bloods said they wasn't involved. McAdoo said that this was fine. It was worked out that he would get to fight them all one at a time back to back. This is called "backdoor" due to not getting a rest between the people you're fighting. The tension that day is heavy and I know that word has reached the guards about what was up. Usually things like this turn ugly fast and this would be no exception. The rec yard is a small concrete area that is horseshoed by cell blocks on either side and another building in the rear. It is packed when just one cell block is on it. This night the sergeant decided to put two cell blocks on it. It was crazy packed. Everyone knew what was up so all the Mexicans grouped up, Crips grouped up, and the Bloods and various other groups as well. Everybody from the cell blocks didn't come out but just the same there were easily 200 people out there. 13 of them were white. To make a long story a little shorter, McAdoo knocked out the first two that he faced. After this the third one didn't want to step up so they jumped on McAdoo, which in turn brought the rest of the whites in. I think we held our own for a minute but was soon overwhelmed by the numbers and were beat and stomped pretty bad. The write up on it said 13 White and 83 Black. My point is this: this was hate motivated and seen as an opportunity to stomp some white guys. Okay, fine, but the administration knew that this was fixing to go down and chose not to intervene, but instead let another cell block out for the party. This is typical of them. This is how they keep focus on themselves and their zookeeper mentality. Anyway, this new kid is stepping into an ugly world made uglier by what the media has labeled him as. I hope there is no weakness in him, because if there is it'll be found and exploited. A life sentence is a long time to wear a skirt and be treated like trash. I wish him well. As for these ol' boys that's talking about it and laughing about his plight...well, perhaps my feelings about that is better left unsaid...

I finished reading all the themes from nothing to lose and too close for comfort. Some were quite interesting. I would like to comment on one because it's been on my mind...a prisoner in Illinois was writing about all of the racism he was facing in that system, etc. Maybe he is, who knows. I do know that things don't always seem fair, but that unfairness isn't always based on race. To me that card is used much too often and sometimes takes the spotlight off of issues that are racist due to it always being used. Anyway, he mentions wanting to help free his people. I can completely understand this and would support him if I could. He says that he has filed with the courts using the "Dred Scott" case from back in the 1850's. This case was brought by Dred Scott, a slave, who sued to seek his own freedom and that of his family because his master had taken the Scotts to the free state of Illinois. Scott lost this case because it was ruled that he was not an American citizen and could never become so because of his race. Okay, now lets move ahead 10 years to after the civil war...Scott decision was overruled and a clause was added to the 14th amendment to further support what was already in the original constitution that "anyone born on American soil was automatic citizens." This made all of the freed slaves citizens. Mr. Dr. Heru Asar Inhoptep Amen-Ra in Illinois apparently is not aware of this or has chosen to ignore it because he claims the Scott decision makes him not an American citizen...or for that matter any African who's ancestors were brought over here by force. When he is overruled on this and his case thrown out for being frivolous I hope he understands that that is what it is, frivolous, and not based on race. We'll soon find out with the next themes...why it's been on my mind is because these frivolous pleadings are what jam up the court system and has caused the courts to change their laws on how many appeals we can file. As it is in Texas, I can file with three branches of the courts one time each and have a time limit to do so. It's all about getting it right the first time around because there won't be a second. Silly pleadings like what Mr. (I'm not going to run through that name again!) has filed affects people like me and ultimately affects you, the taxpayer, because it's you that pay for all of it...the paper, the overpaid judges and state attorneys, the filing fees, and our extended room and board due to having possible avenues of relief closed to us.

13 February 2007

It's after 2 AM here in the jungle and things are quiet. I've been up since around 12. That's what time I usually get up. I sleep around 6 hours a night and spend the other 18 sitting or walking around this cage lookin' cockeyed crazy. I'm pretty good at it. I sleep the 6pm/12am shift so that I can catch the quiet hours in the AM. There is usually something worth listening to on the AM stations plus I get to catch a few hours of news every morning. When the weather is right I can catch stations from several states. This gives me the false sense that I'm staying on top of things when in reality I'm not. I stay on top of the political issues because I'm always reading and listening to all "right & left" talk shows on the radio...but the technology scene has me scratchin' my head. There is so much that has changed that I feel like I'm in last place sometimes. When I hear advertisements for various things like I-Pods or Blackberries, etc., I'm lost...

Right now the big issue in Texas is how the governor has come outta nowhere and signed into law that all girls from ages 6 to 14 has to have a new kinda vaccine shot to prevent cervical cancer. Everybody from parents to state officials are screaming about this sudden signing and making it mandatory for them to have it before they can be enrolled in school. It was a sneaky deal and I believe it'll come to light. The huge pharmaceutical monster MERK contributed nicely to Governor Perry's campaign. He's only doing what he promised...this isn't some kinda airborn disease like chicken pox or something. From what I understand this is sexually transmitted. What are the long term effects of the vaccine? How does it fit in with the other cocktail vaccines that they pump into our kids like cheap gasoline? Of course no one knows, but to the corporate monsters it doesn't matter. As long as there are no short term casualties, then any in the future will be difficult to hang on them. I don't think anyone in Texas wants this cocktail shit pumped into their 6-year-old daughter. If Perry forces this on the people of the state, as it appears he is going to, then this is just the first step to socialized health care. It'll soon reach the point that when these "new flus" that come out every year and they already have a vaccine for, it'll be mandatory for all schoolchildren and people in the work force to get them. The state or government will decide what is and isn't good for you and what drugs or vaccines you'll take. Hey, I have an idea...for a generation or two lets try raising our kids without pumping all of artificial and chemically enhanced foods into them. Lets do away with the pesticides that ultimately find their way into our drinking water. Instaed of filling a tomato with enough preservatives to give it a shelf life of 10 years lets only grow market fresh ones and just accept the fact that some things have a growing season. Lets try what our grandmas used to do...can whatever you want to eat out of season. Instead of genetically enhancing seeds to produce more food and grain that'll put more meat on the livestock and make the chickens lay more eggs, how about we export a little less so that we can grow and raise stuff at the rate they were meant to be. Spend the extra money on the poor countries teaching them how to get the most out of their land and feed themselves. I won't even get started on what we're doing to nature itself...a good example of what effect this would have on our kids if we did cut out all the chemically enhanced foods can be gauged by the healthy and long lifespan of the children in the Mennonite communities. Tho I'm far from agreeing with their religious beliefs, I think we could learn a thing or two from their eating habits. The local paper did a special on this little town a few miles from there where everyone goes to shop at the huge farmers market...the average lifespan in the town is 96. A few people are near 100. They attribute this to having eaten what they have grown and raised locally. If we were all able to do this (and I know we cant) maybe in a few generations a lot of these "diseases" would disappear without the aid of some lab created monkey tested cocktail...but that's just my opinion, what do I know? ...Everyone is worried about looking younger and living longer while they are destroying the environment and ultimately themselves. If most people believe in their creator God and his son then why try and delay your arrival into his warm embrace??? I believe that we are subject to the same laws as the rest of nature. Death is only part of the cycle and is the mulch for new life. But if we destroy our world then what will we reincarnate back to? I feel like planting a tree!

14 February 2007

"Flowers bloom in May, but for me they once bloomed all year around...Life was once full, but now prison walls stare me down. Once in a long ago dream I held the rose that bloomed only for me...but now the dream has faded & the rose I long to see". That was the 1st poem I wrote. It was a long time ago, but doesn't really seem like it when I think about it. I remember when I wrote it & and how I felt when I wrote it. Some things time doesn't age...I thought about it because its V-day & I've been listening to all the "love songs" on the radio that seem to dominate the air waves today. That's cool, I wish everyone could be in love. There is all kinds of love, good &bad...but the kind of love that surpass all other is when two souls unite...when you can look into someones eyes & suddenly know that life will be impossible w/out them...that their voice can make your heart miss a beat & their company is all your happiness can ever desire...when you can hold her in your arms for the 1st time and experience a familiar comfort like she belongs there & somehow always has been there. When this is reciprocated between two people, tell me, what could possibly be better? I believe that a familiar love is like that is the reuniting of two souls that shared a "completeness" together in past life(s)...On the flip side of that coin is whats been on the news about the 18 year old Bosnia refugee that went into a Salt Lake City mall w/ a backpack full of weapons & shot and killed 5 Mormons & wounded 4 others before he was killed. Because he was a muslim the media tried to keep his identity hidden as long as they could. Instead of being plastered all over the front page of every paper in the nation it is being under played. Instead of calling it for what it is, a hate crime!, all the reports are claiming that they have noooo idea what caused this nice young man to suddenly kill a bunch of Mormons. Before long I'll be hearing & reading reports about how it was actually the fault of the city who took him & his family in. That's it! It was the racist people of Salt Lake City that pushed this young man to the breaking point!...I wont be surprised if this is how it gets played out. I can guarantee that if it was a white 18 year old from some trailer park in Kansas who had done the killing he'd be plastered all over the place w/ a picture of Hitler beside him!

I'm going to slow down before I get started. I get wound up when I get to thinking about the double standards... But before I do I would like to send a special thank you out to Mr. Bush. I would like to thank him for eroding our nation w/ lies & deceit all in the name of the mighty dollar. I would like to thank him for driving a wedge between the American people like hasn't been seen since the 60's...separating the government, the people & the nation. I would like to thank him for his sincere concern for the people of Iraq & their resources while baring his ass for a kiss from the American people & ignoring our needs at home...But it isn't only the puppet Bush that is to blame...both parties are full of lies. Anything to get into office & do the bidding of the big business constituents that put them there. They're all the same, only the names change. Our whole government needs to be cleared out by the people & taken back over. It has grown into a monster that eats the lower class to sustain the upper. The only time that they have that single mom working two jobs in mind is when they need her vote. Take Hillary & the rest of these fakes that are running for pres' in 08. Do you think she/they really give a damn about the single mom stuck in a low income job, or lower income black America, or the 20 million that have come over here illegally? They are votes & potential voters. That's all. The promise all the things they want/need to hear...anything for their vote. Once in office they may get a bone thrown to them in order to keep them around for the next 4 years, but that bone wont have any meat on it...just a little gristle. If I could change 3 things about how this system works I would make illegal any donation beyond $5000 from big corporations. This would limit their voice in big Government & give smaller "Mom and pop" businesses an equal voice...It would also open up the field of candidates as well.

19 February 2007

Its "presidents day"...I wonder what that means to people today? Probably not a lot to the majority of the American population. Over my short life span I have witnessed the devaluing of the founding fathers & American heroes. The stories that I grew up w/ are no longer shared w/ our school children. The stories of heroism have been replaced by stories of adulteration, debauchery, & immoral behavior. Todays heros sport gold teeth & holler rhymes about your daughters ass...or they stand in our universities screaming anti American malignity. I can fully understand anti government Ð especially the government we have today Ð but not anti America. Amidst our unprecedented plenty & unmatched technical prowess, our love of county is expiring from an inexplicable poverty of mind & heart. I once read that "to destroy a nation you must 1st sever its roots"...Destroy the peoples memory & leave them in ignorance of what their countries founding fathers did Ð both good and bad Ð and then you can fill the empty pages/minds with a new "history". When a countries heros are dishonored and disgraced, history will no longer unite and inspire use, but depress and divide us into the children of victims and the children of the villains of Americas past. The anti American elites use the value shaping institutions of film, media, music, etc. the spread their corruption to millions...How can this possibly be good? We as American are losing our identity. We are a country of many races, cultures, religions, & ideas...we can never unite as one people if we are left to unite under race, culture and religion alone. To do this would take generations of destroying other races, cultures and religions in order to create one to satisfy the whole...eventually this idea will create the victims & villains all over again...However, we can value our individual ancestry & keep our culture alive while enjoying the history & culture of other by finding our unity in our love of our home...our country. This is the one thing we call can embrace, or we can continue to live in individualism and embrace the ideas that the keep the people divided while prompting a cultural wasteland and moral sewer...

We could start this "re-identity" our country, not by forgetting our past and & villainizing the founders, but by remembering, learning, & applying it to the shaping a country that we could be proud of and generation to come. This starts with cleaning out the cock roaches in our government. Instead of "republican" and "democrat" I would like to see someone elected who is American 1st w/ an allegiance to the people, not to a party or group of constituents. It's in the peoples hands to make this change. Instead of falling for the BS of one party or another...vote them both our and start w/ the independents' fresh ideas of home grown values & natural energy resources & equal school funding, etc. The parties only further divide the people. Its time for a third opinion...Americas voice. Ha! Who am I to suggest what the country needs? I don't even have a vote & am what some consider the dregs of society...well, I can't claim that I've been a pillar...It'd be kinda hard for Mr. Bush to make that claim as well.

2 March 2007

Here it is again, a couple of weeks since I've wrote in this. It's not that I'm lazy. I'm always looking for something to do, but sometimes when I want to write I draw a blank. I guess I could cry about something everyday because there is plenty to whine about...but that's not me. I'll complain about things but not everything. Here lately I've been in such a mental funk that I haven't been able to focus on anything worth writing about. My visual world is only a small area & and not a lot of worthwhile things happen in it. So here I sit making excuses...

4 March 2007

Had some excitement today...if ya want to call it that. Where I am the area where they rec you at is a small cage around 10x15 w/ a metal table concreted to the floor & a pull up bar. That's the recreation. The cage is only a few feet from where the other cells are. Today they put this young black dude in there for his hour of rec. He was complaining to the law that was putting him in the cage that his chest was hurting and could the law please call medical because he needed to see someone. Short story shorter...the law spun him all hour and never called medical. When it came time to cuff him back up and go back to the cell he told them he needed to see medical before he went to the cell because if he went back to the cell he would be forgotten about. In his defense, he was right. Sometimes the only way to get medical is the force the issue...but that always comes with a price. The easy way would have been to take the guy to medical, but instead they used the opportunity to show some force. They "suited up" (meaning they put on helmets, gas masks, chest, elbow and knee pads, along with shields and clubs) and came w/ force. The procedure is for the sergeant to inform him that if he doesn't strip down and cuff up then force will be used. The Sgt. always makes the announcement so fast that the person can't tell what the hell hes saying. Next comes the gas. They have different kinds for different situations. This kind was in a high pressure can about the size of a gallon jib with a nozzle and trigger on it. It's made to shoot a spray about 20 feet in a stream about 3 feet around in diameter. This is so they can hit you anywhere in the cage. This black dude isn't all there. You can tell just by listening to him. These law's know this too. The guy is right up on the bars trying to explain his situation (instead of getting the hell out of the way) when the sergeant sprays him dead on in the face with a big blast continued spraying him as he was stumbling back. The guy is stumbling around blindly waving his arms, trying to breath, digging at his eyes, and voiding his bowels. He ends up stumbling to the other side of the cage by the bars. The sergeant calmly walks around the cage top where hes at and hits him with another big blast. This goes on for a few more rounds until they finally open the door and the "goon squad" rush in the cage to "subdue" him. This is done by slamming his face to the floor, knees all over him and full restrains placed on him...none of which is done gently. From there he is carried to his cell with a nurse walking beside him making the announcement that "The inmate appears to be fine and not needing medical attention at this time". After all of this takes place it is another several hours before the gas clears out of the cell block to where everyone can breathe ok. When gas is sprayed, everyone gets it!

22 March 2007

Here I go again, letting weeks pass by w/out making an entry. No excuse other than being brain dead from the constant monotony. Sometimes its hard to shake even when I try. After so many years of bullshitting yourself into believing everything will get better when it never does...you just stop listening.

23 March 2007

I've been listening to the radio to all kinds of the local festivals that are going on. In this area alone they are having "the Viking invasion" where people from Sweden set up a small Viking age market, display a long ship, reenact battles, tell stories, etc. Then there is the "Celtic festival" where they have a weekend of music, food and dance. There is the "Rattle snake round-up" and all kinds of "cowboy/rodeo" festivals. This time of year is a great time to be in central Texas. There are so many things offered for the whole family to get them out of the house and out from in front of the "idiot box"...that's what my grandpa would call the TV...and if you think about how it has dumbed down most of society then I would day ol'gramps was right...I think that the "spring time blues" have been part of my problem lately, but I'm going to shake it.

24 March 2007

I've been wondering if the news letters have been sent out or not? I know that Gary said he was shooting for Feb. and now its nearly April so I don't know if the mail room ate mine or what? I've been missing the monthly theme. I hope I haven't missed any!

March 25th, 2007

Insanity it seems... a place in my mind... I hide in my dreams... leaving reality behind. Is it more noble to die... and leave this earth... than to live a lie... there is no rebirth? Inspired by death... a civilization of impurity... this love is a myth... my mind assures me. The tortured souls cry... with the weakened ones... to their father in the sky... and his bastard son. Ignorance controls them. And knowledge is feared... the strong are condemned... and the weak are revered. I've been bled and drained. Trough my lives... force fed & restrained... and they assure me its right. I'm tired... so goddamn tired. What is your name? why all the strife?... do you accept the blame for the loss of life? For the lies?... for the loss of life?... for the life?... for the loss of life?... for all of your lies & the loss of life?... well?/// when my energy is spent & my body returns to the earth... please, whatever is left of me leave it be... let me be free.

1 April 2007

I received the N/L a few days ago after sweating its arrival for a couple of months. I wasn't disappointed. I've only received 3 so far but each one has been better than the last. In this N/L Gary has asked for suggestions on how we deal with daily life in these human warehouses and what advice we would give a new guy just pulling up to this madness. I'm sure he'll get all kinds of good advice and some not so good. Instead of writing something separate I've decided to address these issues in my journal.

First of all, anyone that has read my journal probably thinks that I'm some far right wing klansman because of my opinion on hate laws and my honesty about prison and its race issue. Sometimes in this world of "correctness' being a realist is confused w/ being a racist and the crap that comes with that...so be it, but I refuse to put blinders on and pretend that that all is well and a little understanding and compassion will cure everything... its much deeper than that and until we take off the blinders and rip the scab off to get to the infection...only then can we heal the wound.

With that said it should be understood that there is no advice on how to handle time that will help everyone. Each of us are different and what works for one doesn't work for the other...just as prison systems are different and what may work in Texas will not work in another state. Most of my life has been swimming in this sewer...1st in the state of Missouri, then in the Feds, and now in Texas. Each system was different and it took something different to survive in each. For example, if someone was going into the Missouri system I would give them advice on ways to lessen your chances of being raped. Never in my life have I witnessed so much sexual violence than the 9 years I spent there. These assaults were ignored by the staff and seen as a way to keep "real violence" down. Real violence was assaults on guards and race assaults. The weak were thrown to the wolves to keep peace in the jungle. It took a special by Connie Chung to bring this to the public eye...all because some semi retarded white kid that was wrongly convicted by a hillbilly DA for the burning death of an old lady. This kid's mama loved him and never gave up on him...a few years later a drifter in Kansas was arrested for some murders there and confessed to the burning death of the old lady as well. It was too late for young Johnny though...by that time he had been raped several times and finally fell into the role as a prison punk...dressing like a girl and being pimped and sold for cigs or whatever. He was just one of many. One thing they all had in common was that "broken" look in their eyes. Connie Chung exposed it but never changed it.

In Texas, it isn't that bad but it still happens. Here I would give advice on what options there are for you when 1st get here...either you fight, pay protection, or seek protective custody (which is hard to get). Those are your options and if someone tells you otherwise than they are either lying or not in a med or high security prison. After you've done one of the three then you can think about your other options of school and trying to better yourself. But 1st you gotta "play prison". The advice I would give to a Black or Mexican would be different than what I would give a white kid. Why? Because each is dealt with in a different way. That's the 1st thing anyone on the outside should understand...what race you are will determine a lot about what to expect when you're in the system. That's what way it is and I cant change the truth. The young black usually doesn't have many problems when he 1st comes in other than the adjusting to the loss of his freedom and learning the ropes...if he isn't a crip or blood or muslim then he will have to get with one or deal with no protection. This will leave him open to being robbed and beaten up...but only by his own people. The young Mexican will either already be with a "family" or will be pressured into joining one in prison or pay protection to whatever prison family picks him up. But only his people will do this to him. The young white kid will be open game for anyone that wants to exploit him. All of the racial hatred that people have towards the man and the "white establishment" (as some see it) finds an outlet w/ trying to exploit these kids or weak men when 1st come in. So my advice for them would be a little different...All of my advice would be about what to expect and how to survive it because unless you survive it then there is no chance of coming out of this a better person...or even the same person. When I say "survive" I'm not talking about physical...I'm talking mental. You're going to fight against several fronts...you're dealing with the demons you came here w/...and the ones you're going to leave here w/. Each individual deals w/ them in different ways. Some deal with them by abusing other people or themselves...some by finding ways to help other or themselves...& some do neither, they just hurt and are mentally numb from the pain. How is it possible to give advice that would help this big ol'pot of confused humanity?

3 April 2007

I think there is hope for each of us in here...well, almost. Some people just can't be fixed. Sad fact, but a fact. If you in the world could see how some people are/act in this world you would agree with me. I'm sure. For example, its hard for me to find good in the guy who lives a few cages away from me who was given a life sentence for the double rape and murder of an old couple. Usually in Texas that will buy you the death sentence...but in this case good ol' lawyer was to convince a jury that his client was borderline retarded, had suffered racial hatred from white folks all his life and was temporarily insane when the rage of past suffering took him over and caused him to commit these acts on someones grandparents...It worked to save his client's life. Now the ol'boy finds the whole ordeal funny and is willing to tell whoever will listen how he "got over on the system". I've heard his story several times and I know it well. He plays the system in here as well. When I hear him laughing and joking about the his crime and how he beat the man I always think about the two people he put in the ground and the family out there that is trying to understand "why". I think about what those two people may have accomplished in their life and what contribution they gave to society vs what this parasitic piece of human waste has given. And I think about the 12 people who trusted in a high talking lawyer and showed compassion to a person they thought to be a "victim". I think about how easily their trust was misplaced and abused...and I think about how this misplaced "compassion" has often done more harm than good...

5 April 2007

I was sitting here earlier reading a Newsweek when I heard my neighbor over there laughing...there is a crack in the wall that separates us and we are able to talk through it w/out screaming and when its quiet we can easily hear each other. This is good when you have a good neighbor...bad when you have some knucklehead. I've had this neighbor for awhile now and we get along well. I believe I've mentioned him before in this journal? Hes an old black dude that has been drug through hell and still wears a smile. He has more common sense knowledge that probably anyone I've ever met. We have talked and covered nearly every topic and have expressed different views on many. I've found that I can discuss anything with him regardless of how "sensitive" it is. Anyway, hes over there chuckling so I lean back against the wall and ask him to share cause I wanna laugh too. I hear him moving paper around and sit down by the wall...no, he says, its not something that is actually funny in a humorous sense...its funny in a hypocritical way. He said that he was reading the PE N/L that I sent him and was reading the "Ballad of Mesoamerica" and started laughing when he came to the line "But they came up with the zero long before the white man did"..I said from what I understand they did, why is that funny? He said "was it necessary"? I thought about that for a minute and then asked him to explain...He said that the author could have expressed the point of the "zero" without it being directed at the white man. I told him that I agreed but I wasn't offended by the way he expressed himself. My neighbor said that I shouldn't be...but most people would be. He asked me if I thought that if I were to write a poem and include in it a line or two about what the white man did long before the black man, or long before the red man, or the yellow man, or any man...would it find its into the N/L and would it not be taken as a racist statement? I thought about it and agreed that it would be considered a racist statement had I wrote something that my race had done long before another race if I was to use Black, brown, or red man and no I didn't think it would find print in the N/L...he laughed and said that's why it was hypocritical humor, now laugh damn it! He started laughing again and this got me laughing just because he was laughing. Hell. I laughed for 10 minutes. He said that he was going to write a poem about what his people discovered long before the white man and see if PE would run it, then he started laughing out of control and between gulps of air he informed me that "it would be a short one"! "But longer than the zero"! That old man laughed for nearly an hour about that. I've been trying to get him to keep a journal but he's not interested because he thinks that no one would be interested in what he thinks. I wish he would because I think everyone would find it interesting and maybe learn something from his raw, to the point honesty on any subject he talks about. He has nearly 70 years of life that was lived and experience on nearly every level and during some of the most unsettling years in American. I know he has a lot to share...

6 April 2007

It's been a week and I still haven't given any advice that could help a newcomer. I know what to sat to a person when I see them because I can read people pretty good and can figure out pretty quick what kinda drama they'll have to deal with...but I'm finding it hard to give an "over all" piece of advice that may actually help. They'll be enough general advice filling up Gary's mail box that he wont need mine. There will be people that stress the need to keep your mind busy with constructive things so that you're not dumbed down to the prison mind-set...each person will have to discover for themselves what these constructive things are for themselves because what works for me may not for the next man. For example, I live in my mind in reality...someone else may live in their mind in fantasy. Both our goals are the same we just have a different means of transportation...Maybe as the days go by I'll have a brain storm with something that is beneficial...

April 12th, 2007

Another day in Hollywood...I found out yesterday that I lost my appeal. With it I lost any chance of going home before I hit my 70's. Nice little kick to the groin...Lets move on... Another question asked in the last N/L was if religion of any kind has helped some of us through the hard times. I smiled when I read that. Its funny how some of the most harden men come to prison and suddenly find on ol'JC or get 'em a prayer rug. You look as these men and wonder how in the world did he get in here? He's so polite and respectful and committed to his faith...then if you follow him to Huntsville Texas, the unit where everyone gets released from, you'll see him leave his bible or Koran in the box by the door where 100s of other such books are left. This is a joke in Texas but it's the truth. Once a month the prison chaplain will go and collect all the books and redistribute them to those who are just coming into the system and found the holy spirit at the door.

I'm an Odinist, a member of an ancient religion of the Northern European past. My way of life is rejected by every institution of this society. The prison authorities try not to recognize Norse Paganism because anything that they don't understand they view as a threat. The U.S. constitution which guarantees freedom of religion does not seem to apply to those of us who would practice the wholesome nature based faith of the Nordic past. My scripture is not dogmata set down in a book. My scripture teaches through natural law. What little that did find its way into script was filtered by the quills of Christian monks and barely survived flames of the church inquisitions...today it is dismissed by the administration as unworthy of serious consideration by prison chaplains who assume a Judeo-Christian superiority...Luckily I don't need a chaplain and book to embrace my faith... the spiritual path that I follow has helped me through a lot of though times... or at least helped me understand them.

...Good ol'world capitalism at work. This is the world we are leaving to our kids and so on...anyway, let me get back on track and just answer the damn question ;o]> Yes, I think religion has helped many of us to cope...and some of us understand.

April 15th, 2007

I see that ol'washed up Don Imus was fired behind his comment of the Rutgers basketball team. Couldn't he just be fired without dragging it out for weeks on the front page of every national paper and major news cast? Oh, I forgot, it's a "race issue" so its gotta be milked for all its worth, after all, its happening less and less these days so it has to be exploited. I thought the picture of the girls on the cover of USA Today was a nice touch... They are sitting there looking all distraught, not because of the lyrics of 90% of the rap music that some of them may have heard, but because of some stupidity that fell outta the mouth of a washed up talk show host that they didn't hear until a national media brought it to their attention...Enter "Reverend" Al Sharpton, Mr. Christian himself. But was ol'Don shown the Christian way and "forgiven" and then let go by CBS? No, he was drug through it and didn't even get a "forgiven"...race issues get no reprieves.

April 23rd, 2007

I received the theme essays in the mail tonight. I enjoyed the wide range/style of thoughts. I wonder if a 1000 people were to write about the same subject if any two would be alike? Probably not. This is an example of how differently each of think when left to explore something on our own w/out outside influence. We are individuals, not clones of one another...True? Then why is most ideas that are promoted by the "powers that be" aimed at cloning our minds & eventually the human race? For example, when is the last time you tried to find a history of some event that gave all sides of the story and didn't force any opinion on you? Usually you'll get some critics opinion even before you read the 1st page. Are we not intelligent enough to form our opinion from the facts? Obviously not. We are told to accept & even embrace people & their activities even when we find them repulsive if our minds can be cloned up then life would be wonderful... No more disagreements or fighting... or ideas... or individual expression. Of course we haven't reached that point yet but that doesn't mean the war is not being waged against the minds of our young in the institutions that are called schools. Lucky more & more people are waking up & starting to home school their kids...damn, let me slow down before I take off in all kinds of directions! What I was intending to say was that it's refreshing to read the essays by minds of those still free to roam...

April 26th, 2007

I want to track back to my entry of 4/12...my intention was not to blame everything on Christianity. The woes of the of the world are many & certainly don't all fall in the lap of Christianity. However, I believe that of the wholesale religions that have raged wars on the soul of mankind for their creator god has done nothing but confuse the masses & disconnect them from the natural spirit of the life/cycle of life. Instead of living in harmony w/ all of life the wholesale cults have sent mankind in search of his spiritual self to areas outside our natural world/cosmos & asks us to reject this life for an eternity of praising the creator god as our heavenly reward. By leading mankind spirit astray, I believe it, it has open the door for exploitation of the world that we see today. It only open the door...I didn't say that it was leading the way or is to blame for every little thing but the law of cause & effect does apply here.

April 27th, 2007

I received a letter from Andrew tonight, a volunteer at PE. That was a nice surprise. I was even more surprised to learn that someone actually agrees w/ a few of my opinions;o) I know that PE leans to the left w/most ideas & I assume that most volunteers are liberal minded as well so I always wonder what is being thought when some of my "not so left" opinions are read...I wasn't raised in a family that brought me up to follow certain patterns of thought. In other words I wasent force fed the bible & later in life that left me open to explore other avenues of spiritualism. I wasn't raised to hate other people because they were different & that left me open to either. What my ol'man tried to instill in me was to respect all of my elders amp; anyone who deserved it, honestly, hard work & loyalty to your wife & family. He beat my ass quite a lot to make sure I got an understanding of these things...and I did. The rest of life I was left to explore for myself & to form my own opinion on!

Some would argue that this was bad, but sitting here today, even tho I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life, I have to say that it helped me in life. I have experienced both sides of nearly everything. I have seeked God(s) from every racist & defendant of the races. I've lived up town & I've lived homeless. I've lived free & lived caged. I've loved & I've hated. What I'm saying is, because I wasn't brought w/ my mind in a box I was able to experience w/ an open mind before I formed my opinions. I wasn't mind-cloned in the various institutions of our society to either think left or right, & my ol'man didn't give a damn about left or right...he tried to teach me right & wrong & to have enough sense about myself to be able to deside what that is going on my own. Some of my opinions probably seem liberal but I think that a combination of both is more in balance w/ right & wrong than thinking in a box on one side or the other...But that's just my opinion:o]> I think I'll answer Andrew...

June 25th, 2007

Remember me? I've been away for a while. Not literally. My body has been in this same cage since I last wrote but mentally I've been away. O few months ago I mentioned that I lost my appeal & am now looking at most of the rest of my life in this ware house...if I live to be an old man. I guess the reality of that set is one morning last month as I was trying to get a glimpse of the sunny morning through this frosted over slit that serves as a window. It hit kinda hard & knocked me on my ass for nearly 2 months. I went into an inner hibernation until I could work thing out & come to terms w/what the future holds for me. I'm not a whiner or the type to cut myself in a fake suicide attempt looking for attention from people who'll feel sorry for me because of my situation. If I dident learn anything else from my ol'man I learned to keep my head up regardless of the situation and to keep getting up even when it makes no sense to...Well, its not making a lot of sense right now but I'm just up A few days ago I received a page of my journal that was put on the web. It was strange reading something I had wrote several months ago. I don't keep copies of what I write in the journal because I don't want to go back & second guess things I've wrote. This journal is about what or how I was feeling at the time. Being honest about what ever it is. If I keep copies of it then I'll always be trippin' that I shoulda said this or that differently...I wonder what people will think when they read some of my thoughts? Hell, maybe its best I don't know ;o)

June 26th, 2007

I received the theme essay tonight. I always enjoy reading them... even the ones I strongly disagree with that express certain points of view. I always have to remind myself when I get wound up over something that there are plenty of people that may not agree w/something I say. But still, its hard because I like to debate w/people who have different opinions...especially if I think they're fulla shit:0] I think I'll get on the upcoming theme "overcoming depression" & see what I come up with. It's a fitting topic...

June 30th, 2007

Over the years I've rubbed elbows w/nearly every type of person there is...or at least the type that finds themselves in prison as a prisoner or an employee. I like watching a new guard when he/she first starts to work here and see if I can make a correct call on what type of guard they'll be. All of them go through the same kind of training and are told the same line of B.S about inmates (all are bad, trust noone, they all are trying to your weakness and exploit it etc) but when they come to work here all of their attitudes are different. Some start work all "gung-ho" trying to enforce every rule in the book until their old school co-workers pull them aside and talks to them and tells them to chill out that he's causing more work for everyone else...some listen and some don't. then there are those who come and do everything by the book yet don't try to enforce every little rule on you. They are the ones that want to keep their job but don't want to make any waves by "policing the inmates".

I think they are the most under paid out of all the states. It's not that Texas dosent have the money to pay them, they just put the money into other areas that benefit the suit & ties...after all, that second home at the keys ahs to be paid for. The inmates are given nothing but 3 shitty meals a day & some prison made clothes to wear. Everything we have is made in prison by prisoners that don't get paid. So wherever the money is going its not on the inmate or the guards pay check...