Another Day In Paradise
Sticky, of San Diego
After
a decade of incarceration, there are things I've gotten used to that, at
other times, would have irked the crap outa me. One of those things
happened today. This morning started out as most days do. My
cellie woke with the roosters, made two cups of coffee (one for me), and
did whatever he does. I don't know because I'm sleeping. Most
days he is quiet and respectful, some not so much. At 6:15 AM, he
thumped the underside of my bunk, waking me, so I could get ready.
I gulped the laxative, let it do its work, and donned my blues. Usually,
about 6:45, we are released for breakfast. After exiting our building,
we are required to walk around a track, on a white line, to the dining
facility. There is absolutely zero reason for this except cops in
dire need to lord their power trip. My thought is, if all they've
got to feel important is to order grown men to walk single file, so be
it. This is not a forever gig for me.
Breakfast
this morning was decent although it could be much better. How much
dope are you snorting if you're screwing up pinto beans and instant grits?
Oh well, I didn't come to prison for the cuisine. After eating, my
cellie went straight to work. He makes pants, in Textiles.
I trekked back to the cell. Usually I do some writing, daily scripture
reading, followed with a meditation/self hypnosis session. This morning
I did only the first two. I needed to finish a greeting card a friend
of mine commissioned me to do. I use pastels and pressed flowers
to create my pieces. I wish I had the talent to sculpt or draw but
God blessed me with a different interpretation of art and I make it work.
While
applying my last coat of acrylic, I heard the familiar jingling of keys
not far from my door. I live near the stair landing from the 1st
to 2nd tiers so this is a frequent occurrence. My senses are heightened
to the sound. Every inmate knows this sound. It is infused
into the psyche and will be for life. Paintbrush in hand, about to
finish the card, I heard the metallic sound of a key sliding into the lock
of my door and the gung-ho, floater, rookie super cop telling me, "cell
search, step out," as he pulled open my door. Closing the lid of
my clear coat, asking him to be careful with the card as it's still wet,
I informed him the tools on my desk are listed on my hobby property card.
The
CDCR has determined that inmates are allowed to possess certain items in
the property within our cells and everything else is considered contraband.
To make sure we don't step over the line and acquire (or construct) such
things, now and again we must endure cell searches, much like the current
random, invasion of privacy. Most cops don't search because, quite
frankly, that would constitute work and, God forbid, we wouldn't want that.
Others, like this one, are nosy and use the opportunity to put their dick-beaters
all over our pictures, appliances, hobby supplies, and personal property.
This particular guy was somewhat mild. I stood outside, on the tier,
and watched him for about 15 minutes. He found nothing right away
and lost interest. He moved on to my neighbor's house, staying there
for about an hour. I could bitch but it'd do no good. Fuck
it, wash the hot-pot, wipe off the pictures, and go about the day.
He
took nothing because I have nothing to take. It might be a week,
maybe a month, before this happens again. Who knows? Who cares?
I suppose it would matter if I was up to no good and shooting dope, hiding
a cell phone, or making Apple Jack. Call me a lame-o square, but
I'm going home in 3 more years, maybe less if I get some Prop 57 action,
and I will do nothing to jeopardize that.![10x5 Page Background GIF Image](../../Images/10x5_Page_Background.gif)
A White Man's Notes
Sam Aurelius Milam III
Nothing
does more to make a woman beautiful than her being happy. Nothing
does more to make a beautiful woman tolerable than her being quiet.
The
main benefit, to a woman, of hearing a man's opinion is that it gives her
an opportunity to try to correct it.![10x5 Page Background GIF Image](../../Images/10x5_Page_Background.gif)
May 2017 |
Frontiersman,0c/o
4984 Peach Mountain Drive, Gainesville, Georgia 30507
http://frontiersman.org.uk/ |
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