(KING OF THE TRAILER PARK)

I sit here and consider the future.  Growing up in a large family was a struggle. We had plenty of love but fell short on the extras.  Since  prison broke me down, I had to rebuild this thing.  I've taken the time while here to really think out my future plans.

There were kids I grew up with that were born into money.  They had all the cool-shit.  I went to their house to ride on their 4-wheelers, drive their snowmobiles and ski behind their boat at the lake.  I've seen these people never appreciate what they had.  It might have been the same for me, who knows. What I do know is I'm coming home at 40 to get mine.

I will continue to write for this blog once I'm home.  Even when I'm the owner of a multi million dollar business.  I'll do it to prove a point.  The same point I'm coming home to prove to my daughter.

I'll show you along with my family what I can do.  I'm  going to own the boat my daughter takes her friends on to ski.  I'm going to own the cabin up north we vacation to in the summer.  Every member of my family has children and struggle to get by. They sacrifice and go without.

I used to sled down the hill during winters.  Mom made us cocoa when we got in. Mom drove us to the park on the lake and we swam together.  We pulled each other in the red wagon.  We caught lightening bugs in jars and we played in the sandbox.

And here we are now.

Big brother has been in prison for the last 10 years and everyone else made babies and struggles.  We are stretched all across the states.  It's hard to get everyone together because there's so many different schedules.  Not to mention it's difficult to take a week off from work when you know the bills will be there waiting when you get home.  And when you all do get together nobody pulls in with a trailer full of fun toys to ride on.  When you head to the lake everyone is still swimming to the buoys because nobody has an extra 20 grand to buy a boat.

Your back aches after camping because you have a tent.  Nobody can budget in a 30 thousand dollar motor home so the adults can use a real bathroom and sleep on a real bed.  What if Grandma and Grandpa want to come?

Every family should have a rich uncle who pulls in with all the cool-shit nobody else has.  And you should drive it like you stole it.  It's no fun when you're told to be extra careful, we don't want to break anything.  Don't tell me that.

I've sat behind these walls and considered the quality of life I seek.  It will bring me joy to tow my boat to the lake so all these sad all little nieces and nephews of mine can get a bit further than the buoys.  I want all these little boys to ride a dirt bike.  My daughter hasn't rode a dirt bike.  How will she ever ride a Harley next to me unless she learns on a small bike first?

If you're blessed and can play hard, hell-yeah!!  Maybe you struggle to save for that special yearly trip.  That's special.  But if you can't find the up from the down check me out.  That's exactly why I'm coming home to do what I'm going to do.  To show that anyone can change their future.

My daughter told me her Aunt was telling her how many prisoners reoffend. They get home and forget the loved ones who stuck beside them while they were in.  They go back to the old life of crime.  I have a few things to show that Aunt. Especially since my daughter told her--"not my Dad, he has a plan- he'll do fine".

I really can't wait to show you.  And I will.  Right here on Jail Bird.  Except I won't be the jail bird anymore.

"ESTABLISHED 2010"

Some dudes learn to tattoo so they can support their habit.  They make you pay ahead of time.  By the time they get around to your art, they have already used your money on smoking, drugs or gambling.  When they finally begin your art their heart isn't in it.  They just slap some shit on you to cover the money you paid.  An artist who takes pride in their work and attempts a masterpiece every time is rare in prison.  I am that dude.

The tattoo man makes money in prison.  It's one of the best hustles going in the chain-gang.  If you sell dope the cops run down on you all the time.  Not to mention the inmates who try to rob you.  But they usually let the tattoo guy slide. At least they aren't out to get you.  If they walk up on you, it could go either way. The inmates want your services and most guards see it as an honest hustle.
When you're good, you're haters will be the other artists.  They don't want to be in the same dorm as you because you get all the business.  I've been the best on every pound I've been on since shortly after I began to tattoo over 7 years ago.

The name Hooligan is known throughout the prison system.  I don't attempt to compete with other artists.  I really don't see them like that.  I compete with the last piece I did.  How far have I come since my art a year ago.  The haters fuel me.  If you don't have opposition your clearly not doing anything.

I don't tattoo because I have to.  I do it because I love it.  It's the only time I feel 100% removed from my life here.  I'm an able bodied man with a gift.  Why take advantage of my loved ones?  This also ensures I'll come home a seasoned veteran of body art.  Once free, my customers will reap the benefits of all the years I spent tattooing in here.

I've paid my dues.  Every time I sit down to work I know it could land me in solitary confinement.  It's a risk I take to be able to come home with a talent that will make me a small fortune.

I have a look out man I pay to watch for me.  He yells something like: HOT WATER or MAIL CALL , when the police come to do security checks. Hopefully I have time to stash things away before they're up on me.  We sit on the floor between bunks.  Sometimes dudes sit nearby playing cards to block for us.  It's a team effort.  Being a tattoo man in prison is dangerous. The police don't come for the man getting the ink, they want the artist.  I'm the one going to jail.
I've tattooed men's thighs, crotches, butt-cheeks, groins, faces, ears and heads.  In seven years I've been to confinement 3 times for my art.

I can't wait to come home and not stress about the police.  The shout that signals the cops are coming.  Your heart beats faster, your stress-level spikes and your concentration is lost.  It's a real pain in the ass.  I still love what I do.  I know all about my clients.  How long before they go home, why they're in prison, how old their kids are.  It's a personal experience.  I will enjoy putting my art on women one day.  So far it's been a one-sided-affair.  Most of all I'm blessed to know I can be happy to head to work.  Long hours won't be a problem.  It will never compare to sitting in a square box watching rats run across the floor........