Prison. Sex.

Some of the wildest shit I’ve ever seen in my life takes place behind these walls.  …And I have seen some crazy stuff.  Even my mind is blown from time to time.  When Ester and I decided to do this project, I began to carry a pen and paper in my pocket.  These are a few of the quotes I’ve heard, things I’ve seen, and things I wish I knew nothing about.  If you are homophobic, have a weak stomach, or have a problem with bathroom humor, please do not read any further.  In my defense, perhaps you will begin to understand why I have no filter, and say whatever is on my mind.

The day you come to prison you are stripped of everything; your hair, your clothes, and your pride.  I believe the definition of prison is humiliation.  First stop: the barber chair.  One style – bald.  Next stop, get butt-ass naked with about 60 other guys, or however many came in on your bus.  You are then instructed to squat, spread your butt cheeks, and cough.  They do this because guys like to hide stuff in their ass.  I almost said shit, but as you will soon find out, guys are sticking a lot more than shit up there.

After the anal inspection you are told, “Nuts to butts.”  This means you form a line.  …With no gaps.  In prison you are in a line to do anything.  Go eat chow, you’re in a line.  Go to the recreation yard, you’re in a line.  Go to take a shower or even a shit and – yes, you guessed it – you’re in a damn line.

So after you’re shaved and stripped, you head to the scales.  They take your weight and then you shower.  After your shower you are fitted for your clothes, or blues as we call them.  The whole intake thing takes a full day.  From intake you are placed in general population.  This is where you basically walk the plank, the cat-walk – you’ve probably seen this part in movies.  You’re scared shitless and huge dudes line each side of the walk.  You have a 400 lb. ‘Bubba’ telling you that your ass looks nice.  This walk seems to take forever, and it’s one you will never forget.

You are walked to your living quarters.  Everyone stops what they are doing to take a look at the new guy, basically to size you up.  What’s your weakness, are you gay, do you have money, can you hold your own… these are the looks you get.  Then you meet your ‘bunkie,’ or the guy you will sleep next to every night.  There are rules to this process.  You are the new kid on the block.  You don’t just walk in like you own the place.  First you introduce yourself.  You keep your chin up, make eye-contact, and speak to be heard.  Over time this whole process becomes easier.  I’ve been doing this thing for a hot minute and have my own way of doing stuff.  When I walk the cat walk and Bubba tells me I have nice lips, I tell him to go fuck himself.  That way all the other guys who are sizing you up see you have fight in you.  You learn to look at a guy and tell if he’s fresh off the street or if he’s been in for a while.

Hopefully you get a good Bunkie.  This makes all the difference.  You will sleep next to this man until one of you is moved.  You will smell this man’s farts.  You will listen to him snore, and you will wake up and see his morning wood.  It is important the two of you get along.  Basically you are married to this dude for an undisclosed amount of time.  You have to learn to talk out problems, and you will have them.  One day he will clip his toenails and leave them all over the floor at the head of your bed.  Some may even get airborne and land on your pillow.  Big yellow fungus toenails.  You will come home in a bad mood.  An officer just tore you a new asshole and made you stand in the rain.  You will see the toenails and want to crush the life-breath out of the shit-bag who is your Bunkie.  It will take everything you have to control that urge.  That would be a new charge.  More time in this prison – hell no!  Instead you take your toothbrush and cut out all the bristles into little tiny, tiny pieces and sprinkle them on his pillow.  When he lays on them they will poke his neck and feel like fiberglass insulation on his skin.  Like I said, you have to learn to talk things out.  This is important.

After the first week has passed, you will begin to blend.  You won’t stick out so much and it will become a little easier to do your time.  Around this time you will begin to notice things, like the guys nobody wants to shower with.  …Or the couple guys who always shower at the same time.  You might round a corner one day and see two guys kissing.  Perhaps you round a corner one day and see a blow-job or a hand-job, or even anal sex.  The first time, you feel violated.  Maybe you blush – whoops!  Didn’t mean to see that!  Pretty soon it just pisses you off.  Like, I’ve been picking potatoes all day, I’m dirty and I want a shower.  I don’t want to see you fucking, so hurry up! 

Have you ever heard of a drag show?  You know, men who dress up like women, and in some cases want to be women or believe they are women.  Sometimes those men even take estrogen or other hormones to enhance breasts or change their voice.  One small problem – they still have a dick between their legs.  Perhaps you’ve never given it much thought, but where do you think they go when they break the law?  If you have a dick, you go to a men’s prison.  Unless you fall into the small percentage of people who carry both sex organs, Hermaphrodites, in which case they have a special place for you.  For obvious reasons, that might disrupt a men or a women’s prison.  How does that work exactly?  Does that make you gay either way you go? 

OK, I’m getting off track here –

Dicks.  One of the craziest things I saw when I came to prison was a man with boobs, and I mean big, hairless, lady-like boobs.  It was like a freak show.  …All these horny guys running to the shower to see a show.  I was happy when I transferred away from that situation.

People vary on how they look at this, some see it as not black and white, but rather a fuzzy line that separates.  I’m thinking if you take a dick in your ass and you’re a man, then you’re a gay man.  Bottom line!  There’s no ‘I’m kind of gay.’  Guys try and take short-cuts around the gay issue.  I overheard a guy ask his friend, “If you suck my dick, does that make me gay?”  Uhhh…yes.

Here in prison, gay men are called punks or sissies.  Sissies cut their boxers into thongs, shape their eyebrows, tuck their wiener, and sit down to pee.  You ever heard of pitchers and catchers?  We’re not talking about baseball – well, bats and balls in a way.  Sissies and punks are the catchers.  Some guys feel that if they are with a feminine man, then they aren’t ‘technically’ gay.  Whatever!

At my last camp I lived by two full-blown sissies.  Let me paint you a quick picture.  They bend over in front of you and you see a thong sticking out the top of their pants – oh, hell no!  They refer to their ass-hole as a pussy.  When they address each other, they say, “Hey girl! What’s up!?”  One was called “Peaches” and the other was “Champagne.”  On the street they were both cross-dressers, so they walk like runway models.  Just one problem – they are both black (not the problem), and between the two of them are packing four feet of dick!  Mr. T. used to say ‘I pity the fool.’  Fuckin-a, right?  Can you imagine the poor schmuck who thinks he’s about to get lucky, then finds out the ‘chick’ he’s with is packing 2 feet of radiator hose?  Talk about false advertisement!  That’s gonna cause a damn heart attack!

For the rest of us guys, there’s the back stall, otherwise known as the masturbation station.  When you head back there, everyone knows what time it is.  You’re going to relieve some stress.  On the street that’s really not something you talk about.  Sex, sure, you might tell a friend about an exceptional experience.  I have never called a buddy and said, “Yeah, I just got myself off.”  No, you keep that to yourself.  That’s not how it works here.  It’s more like taking a piss.  Some guys head back there with a sexy picture of their girlfriend.  Others head back there with a picture they wish was their girlfriend.  Transformers was on TV last week and I know Megan Fox got a lot of action back there.

Nude pictures here are called ‘flicks.’  They are illegal to have and are worth a couple dollars apiece.  …Which means they are sold and rented as one of the prison’s biggest hustles.  The same Penthouse you see on the street for six or eight dollars goes for $80-$100 here.  That’s because guys cut each picture out individually and sell them for five or ten dollars each.  There are all kinds of hustles in prison.  Guys will do your laundry, make your bed, shine your boots, anything you can think of.

The shower situation is pretty wild.  We have eight shower-heads side by side.  This is hard to get used to.  Everywhere you look there’s a dick.  Either you don’t shower, or you get over it.  On the street I remember girls always going pee together.  What’s up with that?  You just chat while you piss?  Back then I used to think that was odd.  Guys just don’t do that!  Well, they do in prison.  I see it all the time.  …Rollin eight deep in the shower, dicks swinging, and we’re talking about football.  Fuckin’ crazy!

Then the toilets – same deal.  Eight stools in a row.  One dude’s sitting there having morning coffee, next to him a guy is smoking and reading the paper, and in the next toilet a dude is jerking off.  …Just another day on the chain-gang.

This is just a little look into my everyday life.  As time allows, I will write more.  There is always something new and interesting going on.  I want to hear your feedback.  What are your thoughts?  Maybe you have a question.  Feel free to ask, and I will answer.  …Just be prepared to get a very straight-forward, honest answer. 

I am able to get questions, even if it takes a little time.  What do they say – ‘patience is a virtue?’  Well I hate patience, fuck patience.  Personally I hate to wait.  I try to call and have someone look up your comments and questions so I can get them sooner.  At times I will give a quick reply over the phone, and sometimes your question sparks a whole story, like the tattoo story.  That was an answer to my friend Cari, who asked how we get ink in here.

Perhaps it’s better if you ask questions; otherwise I’ll give you shit like what you just read.  Ha ha!  How do you like me now!?