Monday, July 27, 2009


It would be a lie if I said prison was bad. It was release. No/little thought. Way way time to dream. To wonder & yes, wander. In the last few days I’ve received 4 letters from 4 I’ve left (physically) behind. They’re & others like them, are so firmly wedged in my heart. I can see them in my veins. I suppose this would be a time to define brother/sister hood. Fuck that is you haven’t figured out, whether actual or physicophical, forget it.I have 1 birth mother/father. 5 siblings from that tree. My brothers, sisters, mothers, father abound as fruit from dawn. Well anyway, my friends in there want to know how my trip home was. It was a car ride with Kelly. It was a cup of coffee. It was new green. It was traffic. It was who will I see. Who will greet me. Who will hate me. & whom I left. It was quick. It was & still remains sweet. Just like I can’t/won’t talk of that joy & secrecy of a lover’s arms. My trip home was/is something so profoundly private. It’s taken time even for me to come to terms with. I’m a coward & prison afforded me a certain dignity. I have a horrid time with life & prison is floating in a dirty bathtub. Pouring vodka on a water moccasin. My apartment is wonderful. My books, art work, chrome furniture & clothes, & everything is coming home. & yeah, those memories. That thick clot. Saw Alex, my therapist, ½ hour or so ago. Touched base. What I learned, my change. My pain. My joy. I haven’t let Evan go. I never got mad at him for leaving. I can’t. I just can’t. I’m holding on to this pain to hold on to Evan. This apartment is already Evan’s. Noah is here but somehow, a dead son overwhelms the living. I know Alex is right. I’m truly petrified. I actually thought prison would have helped/cured. Nope. Another stupid John trick. Dave wrote & said I cared more for the seagulls than most of the inmates. I miss Dave. I miss Rodriguez, Aaron. Chris. Jefe. Smurf. Hell I miss the food. Kelly made me a cake last week. It’s been many a meal. Sold some lamps for some cash. Broke again. Selling more lamps today. Erik is a miracle. This apartment. He’s also helping me move. He’s there. He’s here. “None the less I confess I yearn”.
W.J. music has been my food. Move love. My friend. Catching up. Finding all my cd’s & some others. It is a bittersweet reunion. I guess the most amazing thing is how easy this is. How open hearts are. Everyone is holding me. Welcoming me. My family. Our family. I was always home. When I clicked my heels I just came to another house. Home is family. It’s love. Our purpose. Our reality. “I still miss someone”. & How are you.

Monday, July 13, 2009


Today is the day before I go pick up John from Oshkosh. Lots to do. Clean the house. Go shopping. I’m house sitting for my nephew so I raided his movie collection and CD collection. So much to watch & listen to.

Pulled out some stuff I thought John would like right away. The leather jacket. May be too hot for it but I know he will want it. It still smells like patchouli. I have to laugh because our old boss did not know the difference between the scent of marijuana and patchouli. While looking for his wallet I realize just how much of his stuff is in my house. It is everywhere! All with a faint smell of patchouli. I found his overstuffed wallet and pulled out his I.D. That is one picture that will have to be retaken.

I have to get up early to leave the house by 6:30 am but am watching Lars & the Real Girl. What a beautiful movie. I am very surprised by it.

I have to remember to pick up a camera. He wanted me to bring one. I hope it is to take pictures of family & friends when we visit tomorrow. If he wants pictures taken of prison, well, I don’t need to see those. I don’t ever want to see that place again.


Wednesday, July 8, 2009


I was just taking a leak & thought I have 1 more Thursday then tomorrow 1 more Friday. Today the panic hit hard. Only a little more than a week & so many projects to finish. R & S’s vases. Noah’s belt. Stacy’s. 2 Guitar straps. Going to type up See You In the the Morn(ing), misc bracelets. The belt buckles. Finish Elliott Smith, amazing book. Order bio of Pasolini. Letters to write & I want to do a few paintings, poems & mugs. I want to do 4 more beer mugs. So the panic wavers. Oh to do prison with your loved ones. I imagine that may sound strange. I was just walking with Levi. We were talking of this brotherhood. When we get it & truly invest in it, it’s profound. Not the criminal, but some aspects apply. It’s that we’ve been physically, mentally, spiritually, intellectually, creatively stripped. Naked we stand & we slowly dress ourselves together. Today a close friend asked if he had a pimple on his head. “Yes”, I replied. “Can you squeeze it?”
“Sure”. And I did. It’s not something I do but here within the context of our/this relationship it was ok. We look out for each other. Feed each other. Talk to each other. We sing. We run together. We shovel snow when the track is covered. We share anger at our behavior at the C.O.’s at the system. At this/our life. So when I say 1 more Thursday it’s the definition of bittersweet. I will hold you & we will cry & we’ll be so happy. I’m leaving brothers forever. Some released a month after, Aaron, Levi 1 year. Conley 2 months. But some never. Some were cellys. Some ate with. Talked with.

Picasso said, “Nothing can come about without loneliness. I have created a loneliness for myself which no one can imagine.” Some guys tell me how they will miss me & will I write. No, you’ll forget. Some know of my overwhelming need to make things. To never sit still. They don’t know & if they do they don’t understand this blog. Even falling away from I have continued. Even though you haven’t. If you don’t get in trouble here, if it seems questionable, “they” say, “you’re manipulating the system.” I reply “I’m taking advantage of the/this situation”. Each moment is simply that. Each moment. Whether I’m washing dishes or doing push-ups in prison. It’s it’s own moment. I experienced those moments & then I forgot. I began to re-act. Just doing it. Then Evan died & I slowly stopped caring. Stopped living & just went thru those motions & I forgot you. All of you. Most all Noah. Then here where every day is counted. Where 4 times a day every thing is stopped & everyone is counted. At first you brace yourself. Then it becomes second nature & am I institutionalized. Then fuck that & you act out. Then why? Then it becomes the sun rising. Setting. Rain. Snow. It becomes nature. It moves past distraction to this is how this goes. Pretty soon when count is late you get concerned that something is up. Then soon after that you go home. First 1 more Thursday, then that Thursday then I see Kelly, Noah & Evan Henry. & then you.