Doing time feels like rolling around in the dryer on tumble-dry. Just about the time you're in a groove, they change it up.
The Snickers Ice Cream Bar on canteen tastes so good it's only fitting they remove it from the menu. Tuesday dinner of fried chicken was such a smash it's been replaced now with some square patty of unknown identity. Their posted mission statement is, "Care, Custody & Control". The underlying facts are try and fuck us on every corner.
So when they woke me and told me to transfer, I rolled my eyes and figures..."here we go again."
A few months later and here I sit at a psych-camp called Lake C.I. Could be that I'm finally at the end of this, but I'm truly not giving a fuck.
As in, the guards can have this shit, just like the men who stay when I leave can have this shit. It's not my cross to bear anymore.
Knowing how they work, I'm certain it wasn't to better-my-stay when they moved me. I simply met their quota for a bunk change. It's like living in the handicapped-parking-stall...
Everyone who pulls in is an idiot. Luckily, I'm an idiot as well. So I fit right in.
The camp I transferred from has had a large increase in violence. In some cases resulting in deaths. While I'm over here at the lake watching a 6 foot alligator swim the pond us guys named "Wally". Wally spends his days chasing ducks and eating food dudes toss over the fence to him. Wally doesn't give a fuck and neither do I.
For once D.O.C. finally slipped up and handed me a blessing. If I could only get me a Snickers Ice Cream to go with my happy meal.
Because I'm so dang happy over here.
The countdown is at 15 months.
Friday, August 11, 2017
Saturday, August 5, 2017
Ain't Life Beautiful!
It should be. If it's not, what are you doing about that?
This prison recently started a music program. Battle of the Bands. There is some serious talent in here. Band's rehearse on the rec-field under the pavilion.
While walking to chow the other day a band kicked into "2 Tickets to Paradise"...Steely Dan.
The day was cloudy and overcast. There was a cool breeze and this mellow aura. When the band hit the notes and began the chorus, nearly every man in the chow line began to sing. For a moment I forgot where I was and I too began to sing.
We were laughing and in that moment I took a mental-picture. A memory I will carry with me forever. One day soon I'll find myself in paradise. A cold beer in my hand and that song will begin to play and I will ask a pretty lady to dance.
Or, perhaps I'll just sit there and smile.
Paradise isn't a destination, but a state of mind. Something you can achieve anywhere. Paradise isn't a person. Paradise and that perfect feeling come from inside you. When you leave behind the restraints, daily life and responsibilities create, you, my friend have found your paradise. That could be your tub full of bubbles.
On my walk to chow, nine years into a ten-year sentence, I was in paradise.
One day soon I'll be sitting under a tiki hut looking across the ocean. I'll grab my beer and walk to the juke-box. Slide some quarters in and select the song. Truth is, I find priceless moments in here. I'm bringing that home with me so every day can be special.
My Cosmopolitan Magazine had dating tips. I read them because how better to understand women than from women. It stated women want a confident man who takes control and listens. A man who is comfortable with himself and loves to laugh. How do they feel about tattoos?
This prison recently started a music program. Battle of the Bands. There is some serious talent in here. Band's rehearse on the rec-field under the pavilion.
While walking to chow the other day a band kicked into "2 Tickets to Paradise"...Steely Dan.
The day was cloudy and overcast. There was a cool breeze and this mellow aura. When the band hit the notes and began the chorus, nearly every man in the chow line began to sing. For a moment I forgot where I was and I too began to sing.
We were laughing and in that moment I took a mental-picture. A memory I will carry with me forever. One day soon I'll find myself in paradise. A cold beer in my hand and that song will begin to play and I will ask a pretty lady to dance.
Or, perhaps I'll just sit there and smile.
Paradise isn't a destination, but a state of mind. Something you can achieve anywhere. Paradise isn't a person. Paradise and that perfect feeling come from inside you. When you leave behind the restraints, daily life and responsibilities create, you, my friend have found your paradise. That could be your tub full of bubbles.
On my walk to chow, nine years into a ten-year sentence, I was in paradise.
One day soon I'll be sitting under a tiki hut looking across the ocean. I'll grab my beer and walk to the juke-box. Slide some quarters in and select the song. Truth is, I find priceless moments in here. I'm bringing that home with me so every day can be special.
My Cosmopolitan Magazine had dating tips. I read them because how better to understand women than from women. It stated women want a confident man who takes control and listens. A man who is comfortable with himself and loves to laugh. How do they feel about tattoos?
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