Crime Shrine
September 22, 2000
Got some books people sent me today. I had to go pick them up at what they call the property room. I had to cross the yard to get there. I was surprised at some of the comments I received. Thinking back on it now, I don’t know why. What did I expect? People kept asking me what kind of books I was getting. Going to the property room here is sort of the equivalent of a night on the town for free people. But when they saw the books I got they were disappointed-even disgusted. The books were all historical, and they could not fathom why someone would want to read them. It is a fairly precise snapshot of the prevailing attitude here. If you want to learn about something that won’t further your criminal career there must be something wrong with you.
And this, so far, seems to me to be one of the reasons so many people come back to prison. Everyone longs to do the very things that got them here. I still do too. And when anyone tries to break the cycle most people here look at them like a leper. We are not the most mature group on a whole. But I guess that goes without saying.
Bad Company
September 21, 2000
One of my workout partners, Eric, threw a conniption fit today over me not spotting him right. Someone started talking to me while I was spotting him and I wasn’t paying attention enough.
True, it’s a serious thing and someone could get hurt if you’re not careful. But still I thought he went a bit too far. He stopped talking to me all day. I don’t see what that is going to accomplish. He is a touchy dude. His feelings get hurt very easy. From what I’ve seen this is a bad way to be here. It opens up the door for a lot of extra bullshit. All unneeded. Some guys here just search for people like this to get revved up.
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It is their best source of entertainment and interaction I guess. As for me and Eric, I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stand one another. Probably not much longer. I’m already in prison, I don’t need to add any more clouds to the mix.
Deserted Seed
September 20, 2000
There has been a lot of talk about this “Angel Tree” program in here. It is a church program that provides presents for children whose parents are in prison.
It’s a pretty nice thing to do, obviously. But with this thing going on I hear a lot more talk about kids in here. How many they have, how well they know them, etc. It’s really sick how some of these guys think of their kids. I hear them joking with their buddies bragging that they have 3, 5, or even 10 kids like it’s a contest to overpopulate the world.
Not everyone here is like that, but I say a healthy minority are, and that’s scary. I don’t have any kids, thankfully. I say that because I haven’t always been that careful. But I always felt that I needed to learn how to take care of myself before I could take a shot at taking care of someone else. Since I still can’t do that yet (as I sit here a ward of the state) I’m glad I didn’t leave any children without a father out there. Bringing a child into a criminal environment is a nasty thing to do. But most of these guys never even see them. Which is worse? Don’t know. But most of the guys in here grew up without fathers. And what they did know of these absent men was mostly not good. But to be raised as a thug, that really leaves you with little chance doesn’t it? Such men in here are a small minority, but some of the most hardened men. Most of us here don’t totally believe how we live is right. Imagine if you did.
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A Captive Ear
September 19, 2000
I got a letter tonight from a friend of mine. She told me a big story I’m pretty sure is a lie.
She says she’s a virgin (no, that’s not the part I think is a lie), and ever since I came to prison she has been telling me how bad she wants to have sex. She says she wants to get it over with. But now I get this letter with this story line that doesn’t make sense. She says that she met a guy at a club, took him home, then blacked out and woke up naked with him.
I guess it’s possible, but if that is what you wanted anyway? I get stories and rants all the time. People feel I’m a safe person to tell anything to. I’m removed from society. I won’t lie, it is entertaining. But sometimes I judge also. Especially when I feel they are giving me a load of shit. That’s the part I don’t understand. They have someone to spill their guts to and don’t come with the truth. I guess I’ve done this before too. Hasn’t everyone? So I shouldn’t be so quick to call people out. But these empty papers are my psychologist.
And my mind doesn’t stop spinning whether it’s on something serious or trivial. If nothing else this is going to be an opportunity to learn, not only about others, but about myself.
Crying to Parents to Pay Paul
September 18, 2000
NFL games are a big source of excitement here.
Although another rule recited by those who would have you survive prison is don’t gamble, I do it anyway. I only bet a few dollars and, like most, I lose. I do not play anything else. The big killer is poker where one could easily lose 100 dollars a day and essentially their ass in more ways than one.
That kind of money is something most in here cannot afford, yours truly included. And it’s really sick what some of these guys do. They lose all this money and then turn to their families to bail them out.
They’ll call their people and say “you’ve got to send me 100 bucks or I’m gonna get beat up.” I imagine that has to be a horrible thing to hear from your son, grandson, or whatever. And a lot of guys come from single mother homes. From this point on, if I’m going to do shit like that I will keep my family out of it. Never asked my mom for dope or gambling money and I never will. While I still have a lot of growing up to do, I have enough character to refrain from that.
A Bubble From Which One Cannot See
September 17, 2000
Being in prison as far as morals and ideas go is sort of like being in a time warp that leaves you 50 years or more in the past. The reason for me bringing this subject up is an article I began reading in Newsweek, “Redefining Race in America.” While the world slowly but surely evolves in thinking, thought in prison seems to devolve, especially in the realm of race. What’s worse is I am incarcerated in a very soft state comparatively speaking. Take our neighbors in California, things couldn’t get worse there. I can only imagine the level of hate. The general attitude here on race and their regard for others is I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. I have difficulty going along with this attitude and there are many who share that same opinion. In reality the real staunch haters, the extreme racists are full of a lot of shit and are more scared and ignorant than anything. But many of them are looked up to and praised by even more frightened men than themselves looking to fit in. It is an ugly situation that I do not see changing anytime soon. Jim Crow still reigns here.
Don’t eat or drink after other races. Don’t sit at the same table as blacks if you’re white or Hispanic. The whites and Hispanics also band together against the blacks if there is a big problem. So, while white and brown race relations have gained some ground (at least in prison) it’s pre-civil rights movement times in concern of the blacks. But the inmates all have one common enemy and hate for cops.
For the most part, when an inmate looks at a cop they see no skin color. They see only the green, the color the cops wear. With a few exceptions, as goes with just about anything in life, a black guy in here holds even less regard for a black cop than a white inmate and vice versa. It’s one of those things that makes you go hmmmm. This is another part of that so called “criminal code”. It is part of the criminal lifestyle, -cops being the lowest form of life. But like anything else there are good cops and bad. I’ve run across some pretty sadistic fucks and some pretty decent human beings inmate, cop, white, black, blue, green. Try to make sense out of it all…
Street Talk And Dreams
September 16, 2000
Me and Frank talked about pulling armed robberies all night.
It got me so hyped up I dreamed about robberies.
I can’t believe that after 13 months in prison that I still think of doing things like that. I have to be honest, it I got out tomorrow, I would probably go back to doing drugs and that would end in me coming right back here. It is very discouraging to me that my longing for drugs and that lifestyle are so strong. So right now I need to be here. There are very few guys here that are just too dumb to make it out there. But something inside of many of us here needs to be exorcised before we can get to that point.
Do I want to live my life in and out of here?
No, but I would be lying if I said I don’t find myself plotting evil often. I’m hoping this 8 or 10 or however many years in here will make me realize that there is a better way. But I’m scared to death it won’t happen.
More Rules…That Are Rarely Followed
September 15, 2000
I went to school today to try to sign up for what’s called the Youth Offenders program. I was kicked out because they warned people not to attempt this if they were not qualified. I am not 5 years to possible release so do not meet the criteria of this program.
But I took the education worker’s word that it would be okay. Now I may have to wait another semester to start school. I tried it because it would have been free. Now I will have to pay. Or better yet someone will have to pay for me. I shouldn’t have listened to the guy, but I did. And this brings me to another prison rule: don’t deal with homosexuals.
Okay this is a little bit unfair on my part. I don’t really believe they are any different than anyone else, but this little story keeps me on the theme of prison rules. However, the truth is that in here, gay guys are a lot like drugs. And these “rules” are things the guys who’ve been around a while tell the fish right away. This particular guy goes by the name of Stephanie, a play on his real name. Many of them do that. He basically runs the education department so a lot of people are forced to deal with him that normally wouldn’t. But I do not make it a habit to talk to the “mo’s” or “punks” as they’re called here. But many guys I know have not listened to the warnings and have regretted it later. It’s not that they are bad people (although some of them are crazy as hell, this is prison). It’s more about what others are willing to do to keep them.
The Rules…Again
September 14, 2000
My workout partner Frank moved into my unit today. That was the highlight of the day for me. Now we will be able to get a lot more done. Up until now he’s had to do a lot of sneaking around to get to the gym with me. Frank is an interesting story. Unlike most of the others you meet in here, Frank had never tried any heavy drugs before he came to prison. He became hooked on speed while in prison for the first time.
Now he’s on his 3rd trip and he doesn’t plan on ever quitting his speed habit. He’s not on it now, but he will be as soon as he gets out, or sooner if some shows up here. His exact words to me when I tried to encourage him to quit were: “I love it too much.” This brings me to another prison rule, not a commandment, but a so called rule in here: do not use drugs in prison.
Using in prison can get you smashed (beat to a pulp) faster than anything here. But as the saying goes, rules are made to be broken. This one gets broken a lot. Since I have been here I’ve smoked weed once and drank pruno about 5 times.
It has all been free. But no one really gives away the hard stuff for free. I have been approached about cocaine, as many people here know it as my drug of choice. To my own surprise I have turned it down. It probably has a lot to do with the quantity you get for the ridiculous price. Because if I could get it cheap I don’t think I would be able to resist it.
The Rules
September 13, 2000
Today was a pretty uneventful day. I was in the gym most of day. I’ve been working out with a couple of others, Frank and Eric. They really motivate me. Since this day was so quiet I’ll talk about one of the rules in prison. It’s also one of the 10 Commandments. Thou shalt not steal.
Last week someone’s store bag got robbed. This happened before they received it so they did not have to pay for it. But here you can only go to the store once a week, so it’s a big deal. Word got around about who took it and he had a bad couple of days. He was beat up a good 10 times in those 2 days. It’s kind of ironic how that a rule is so strictly enforced in a place filled with thieves.
So theft, if it does happen, usually consists of people taking from their own kind. If one steals from another race that could create a much bigger conflict. Usually you can avoid a lot of problems by following the rules here. Like anywhere I guess.
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