Monday, July 30, 2007


Been thinking a lot about Bobby Sands – his life – his fight. I think you should too. Evan turned me on to his diary (written in prison while he was on a hunger strike for political prisoner’s rights and where he died) and I keep a copy in here.

Days pass so quickly here. Thoughts run thru me, around me, like a mini hurricane. Just tremendous. Where the days move quickly, the prison takes forever to see the doctor ( a huge complaint), dentist, to be moved to a cell. So grab your distraction & ride like a bat out of hell.

Been going to the library this past week. The books are ok but the amazing thing is, you get to listen to a CD for 20 minutes. I know that sounds pathetic – Hurray – I can listen to part of a CD – but as you know by now – it’s better than nothing & if you have any idea of how I jump into things – I’ve already listened to Waylon Jennings Monday, The Doors Tuesday & today U2’s Joshua Tree. Well, I adore headphones & I don’t embarrass & I have a large degree of anger-hurt-loneliness & insanity bursting from my seams. So with the volume all the way up & press those headphones all the way into my ears & I was 16 again in detention in the Breakfast Club. I know – how so bizarre – but- what the hell.
I escaped the prison library fun for those 20 minutes. Came back to Earth with more than I left with. You learn to live “Fuck It”. Earlier in the yard going over and over last blog, George was updating on his week, life & joy because Kelly sent music lyrics he requested. So there we were – 9am-ish, heat rising hard & he begins “Stan” by Eminem. Such a bittersweet tale & there we are so content. It was so easy – so divine.

This blog keeps focus. Keeps a path. No idea why, where, how or because but it’s like talking when you’re terrified or when a moment slides around with such grace that you begin to think it only exists if you narrate it. Sometimes it’s easy here, other times it’s waiting for a dog to lay any egg & you fuck yourself side-ways until you’re tomorrow.

Here are some photos Stacy S. took. 1 of us in my old bathroom – another - my favorite typewriter that Jacob N. gave me. Yes. That’s an Ettore Sottsass, & my table with cookies from Stacy’s mom, Ginger, who I think is really cool.

Well, as we go forward I’ll leave you with this prison nightmare –
There’s a guard I believe, in the Q building & if you piss him off real bad he’ll find a really large filthy pair of underwear & leave them on your door overnight so as you sleep your whole cell smells of shit. Got to love the D.O.C.


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