“Honey, I have a confession to make” a guy told his bride. “I’m a golf nut. You’ll never see me on weekends during golf season. Well, dear, she murmered. I have a confession to make too. I’m a hooker. No big deal, replied the groom. “just keep your head down and your left arm straight.

Golfer: What’ your handicap?

Second Golfer: Honesty

A hunting party was hopelessly lost. I thought you said you were the best guide in Maine! One of the hunters angrily said to their confused leader. I am, replied the guide. But I think we’re in Cananda now.

Did you hear about the self-help group for compulsive talkers? It’s called on and on and on.

My parents are the epitome of abstinence, the boy explains to his school mates. They don’t smoke, they don’t drink, and my sister and I are adopted children.

Just cut up contraband veggie’s. Sad I have to hid out in the bathroom to do it. Like I’m shooting up or something a little Judas priest anyone. Awesome death metal, the bone, sun’s almost set. It’s 7:30, No more nite rec pretty soon. So A.A.’s been good. Couple of the guys from talk so that’s cool. So many movies I wanna see. So many times I wanna buy second hand at bull moose. Can’t wait to shop at Goodwill. Quarterroys and t-shirts. Good stuff.

“Freedom what will you make of it”

Had a bit of excitement this morning, I was looking out my cell window to see what time it was, saw a large number of guards come in and search five cells. They even cut up some of the green mattresses. They didn’t find anything through. A bit exciting. Today, I plan on just relaxing and watch the science fiction channel today. Kind of cloudy and foggy today, and tomorrow is going to be a wash out. Just thought of something no matter how weird the movie are on the science fiction channel the women are all good looking. Looking out my cell window, it looks real foggy. Sort of reminds me of the Horror movie “The Fog.”

Not much to say about weather, we got rain, but not a lot. So goodnight and God Bless You!

I am lifting again but it’s hard to keep in the mood. I will probly write miss chunky at some point. I am not working. I am doing the school thing.

I an lifting with this kid named Ennis he is kinda weird

Juice

I’ve fought hard and bounced, only to watch the reins go slack. Here I go again, I can’t win, the wrong way down a one way track. There’s nothing here for me, surrounded by the castoffs of society. Dressing the same seems to me to be a conspiracy, to rob me of my identity every sentence, every story, starts with the usual I, me, or my brains are fermenting, as the rut get deeper, but no one knows why minds need to focus, forget the day after day, and let the soul slip away. Get my sights on what’s right, where I need to be, what I’ve got to say. Life is too short to be wasting it away, wallowing in the stench of a prison cell.

I can write here for years, but not one of my words am I allowed to ever sell. Once you’re in it’s hard to win, the system kicks you harder where you’re already down. You’re picked up, only to be degraded and demeaned, then knocked again to the ground. A thief I’m not, but everyone keeps talking about this elusive box of tools. Sounds cool collecting tools, in a class each day, I guess they give them away. So here I am, studying day by day, hoping to find a somewhat saner way of living with the people of earth, as people that I know, not as friend of foe. Just as other human beings with inquiring mind, that need to live and grow.

So far they have told me that I have no control over my drinking, that it has put me in prison five -  times, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life. That I have no manners, or morals, a lousy work ethic, have ruined all of my relationships, nobody trusts me, I’m apparently now a drug addict, and have an extensive arrest record for stealing. You wouldn’t imagine how shocked I was to find out what a piece of shit these people say I am. All of my life I’d been under the assumption that I’ve been the most solid person I know. Glad I came to this rehab, there’s no way that I can ever live with myself now.

In hind – sight, I can see all of the tell – tale negative aspects of my life that everyone around me must have seen all the while. Such as: how  I don’t lie, I work 12 – k hrs. a day and have since I was fourteen – years old, I drop everything to help a friend at anytime, I’m given the keys to million dollar houses to check on them while the owners are away, I am the only courteous person in my line of work in my area, I respect all elders as they should be, I help tons of family – friends – neighbors our with loans or cash, I have never treated women or children badly, I don’t steal from friends or family, I do all I can to keep punks and low – lifes and druggies out of my community, I respect my parents regardless of personal feelings, and I like cats.

I can see that all of this would be misleading to a trained observer that has spent years in school… I could have told them what I found out in 3 – 5 years of one on one counseling, I don’t have an addictive personality. That I’m addicted to nothing but living and breathing. I do have a drinking problem and have alcoholic tenancies when I remain drunk for long periods, all by choice, I drink because I don’t care, about me, or anything else, at times. I am totally depressed, all of the time. If I had a good woman, that I could trust, then I would have a reason to care, but I don’t. So, I could have saved them the eighty – grand and told them, that drinking doesn’t make me break the law, ever, and never has. The reason that I do illegal things is very simple. I simply don’t fucking care. No therapy needed. Anyone got a spare woman kicking around… That’s all of the therapy that I need. Someone to share my life with.

Sitting here I have to towel off my forearms every 3 or 4 – minutes to keep this page from really getting soaked. I can’t believe how nasty it is in here today. 103 degrees out on the fire – escape & humid as hell.

Yesterday the fat bitch in charge made me a level – 3. Instantly I was forced to do another job, just for that one day though. I’m in charge of folding all of the laundry, about 12 – loads a days, supposedly ironing all of the striped shirts & blue pants, I’m now the C.L.  Journalism assistant, & then I have a bunch of little things to do every morning too. It’s annoying as hell, and everything keeps changing, so as soon as it starts to make sense, it doesn’t anymore. It’s very hard for me to get anything of my own done, unless I do them at night, when I really need to be sleeping.

They’ve moved me into a room with a real piece of shit crackhead. A bag of java used to last me a week, now I open a bag + 2 – days later it’s empty. He never ask for, buys, or borrows any, but always has some in his locker. While I went downstairs to the commissary today about a third of a bag disappeared. If he’d have asked I would have let him have some. So being in this unit I had to tell the guard that he needs to move to another hole. He’s in serious danger in this one, they’ll move him. These cells are the same as the security building, but 2 – inmates to a cell. We’re locked in from 10:00 pm. To 5:30 am. 5 – days a week, weekends are 11:30, holidays 1:30, too tired to ever even care though.

I guess they’ve been working on the security building longer than I’d thought. Today I mentioned it & was told it’s all done already. We saw a huge air conditioning unit go in on a tractor trailer this am. 2 – days ago the temp on the floor in a – pod was 105 degrees + the hobo’s were screaming bloody murder. So they got a new unit. I guess last month the women center got one, expensive, they’re really huge.

I keep seeing my friend Vinny, Fred Huntley, Matt Moscillo, and they holler to me across the courtyard or whatever, but all I can do is wave. Can’t say a word to them. These ass holes are really getting testy about that too. Shit – bags. Maybe if I get motivated enough I’ll write Fred and let you relay it if you’re willing to. The one letter I sent him said a lot but there are some other things I really wanted to mention. Like his health, which he’d told me was getting worse. He’d said that he didn’t think he would make it back to the streets alive. Says he has no will power. I know he does.

What’s poppin solja?  Dig, how you holding up in that box Solja, I know you standing up strong in your spot and that’s why I fucks with you ya dig?  But on some real rap you got’s to slow down a little bit so you can get some shit done.  You know I’m about to bounce out this wack ass spot and I’m trying to chot it up with the dudes I fuck with like that ya dig?  Them other cats are confused junkies and they under your “G” my dude.  You cut from a different cloth then these dudes so remember that, stay up lil bro.

Da*Gun*40*Pro

Too often it seems that another of my own meet their demise

I am clearly aware that ones’ life can never be endless

though I now feel too young to be left lonely and friendless

I sometimes think of friends who have made their amends

I secretly wish for a seat at my own funeral just to see who attends

when it’s my time to go I’ll leave instructions for a traditional Irish wake

The mixture of hate and remorse on the faces a pleasantly bitter pill to take

As yet it is too soon to go with my mortality beginning to show

being humans in middle age we simply fear that which we do not know

so to those who were thoughtless enough not to portend their own pass

I’ll see you again one day old friends but until then you can kiss my ass.