Friday, 31 December 2010


Because of the snow,
none of the dick sneeze guards have turned up to work. Nice one for that, that basically means
we have to spend the whole day locked down, only being let out for food..
 We have one guard on patrol, and i ask Sha why he won't let us out..
"You crazy? These motherfuckers ain't gonna let 96 N****rs run wild"
Fair play.
 The rest of the day is spent having completely pointless retarded conversations,
they help pass the time..and most of the time are fucking hilarious.
 Swizzy tells us about these two dudes in the 70's that tried to escape from this jail..
Apparently they tied 20 bed sheets together and absailed out the window..the first one made it
to the ground floor, and was holding the 'rope' for the second guy. He fell, killed the first guy
and broke his neck. Then they were shot by the US Marshals.
 Nevermind eh.
 Swain says he has a better idea..
"I aint no bozo n****r, im'a get me 40Gs, then go to Mexico..Drive my car off the bridge at the border,
backpack full of cash, swim downstream. N****r." As you do..
 "Get me one of them bad little spanish bitches and chill"
Sha interupts
"Who this n****r think he is, McGuyver?"
Yes. yes he does. Swain ain't playin.

Thursday, 30 December 2010

''working out''

 I am a man. A turkish man. I have needs.
There are things that i love doing in life.
 Call it intimacy, fucking, making love, bumping uglies, whatever you like..
 For now this is a need i am not going to get.
 There is no porn in federal jail, only 'hip hop model' magazines, which are full of
crude photos of women with biblically large asses.
 It's certainly no secret when someone is jerking off..You will see someone walk in their
cell holding a copy of 'smooth' or 'jizz', they cover the window of their cell for a few minutes,
then return red face and sometimes even wiping the magazine off. Nice.
 Today, Swizzy has been kind enough to lend me a copy of 'dimepiece' magazine.
As he hands it to me, Big Mick strolls past the door..
"DAMN, Timdogs got himself a date"
 Laughter erupts.
"They ain't got big chocolate asses like that in London, don't hurt yourself kid"

Wednesday, 29 December 2010

sleep time

It is draining me mentally and physically being in this concrete tomb..Always having to be on a front, never letting my guard down, always being ready to switch on someone/someone try it..Somedays i could and have almost lost it completely and bashed someones face in over the smallest minor shit..but i can't, i have to stay patient, stay calm... i drift off to sleep ...Until i am woken by my cellmate, announcing that he needs to take a 'New York Shit, kid"...
At least he warned me this time, and i wasn't awoken by shit particles infiltrating my nostrils, and the sight of a semi naked man sitting on the toilet laying a cable..I guess that's something to be thankful for?

bottom of the gene pool

Everyday that goes past, you notice new shit in here. Things you were not aware of. You come to many conclusions on life, especially were you want to go and who you want to be surrounded by.
 Right now, i am swimming in the bottom of the gene pool.
The majority of people in here are beyond stupid. Most look seriously retarded, like they were repeatedly dropped on their face as a child. Many people are either disfigured, or just incredibly ugly. I feel embaressed to be the most handsome dude in here, it's no fucking achievement i can tell you.
 I'm talking about no teeth, deformed heads, completely bugged out looking motherfuckers.
Don't even get me started on some of the tattoos i have 'witnessed' in here..
 I never get over this...if you can see i have nice tattoos, and yours are clearly absolutely shit, what do you expect me to say to you when you show me them? What could i say? What do you want me to say? You know i'm going to be lying to you..for fuck sake you have three bullet holes tattood on your FACE for fuck sake..with blood dripping out. Or this other dude, he had a tattoo on his chest of the superman logo, 'ripping' through his skin. It was absolutely pant shittingly bad. But he still felt the need to show me, and ask me what i thought of it...What do u think? What do you HONESTLY think i think of it?
 Oh, and they ask me how much i think it cost. I try to be kind and say 50 dollars. I'm usually wrong.
"Yo my boy did this for 20 bucks maan"
I can see that. Seriously, i can see it cost 20 dollars..and you got bumped.
 One 'incident' that sticks with me is i witnessed a 'person' eating in a way i'd never seen before. It was animalistic, classless, but somehow completely fascinating watching this adult behave in such a strange, deranged manner..
 We get given some very strange meat products in here. I don't eat most of them. If i can't tell what animal or beast it is from smelling or even tasting the flesh they cart out for us to devour, i ain't on it.
 A few days ago, we were given 'meat loaf'. This shit looked like some skin off an old man's was red, with spots on, shitloads of fat, and had blood on it. Did that stop the population from chowing down? hell no...
 I didn't eat mine. I went upstairs to talk to my freind T about making some food, when i witnessed this spectacle...

Play before reading further...

 This dude was sitting alone..
He was holding this indescribable piece of grissle with two hands, furiosly squeezing it..grease dripping down his fingers and hands all the way to his elbows..he was heavily breathing the whole time, almost wheezing..
 The way he was actually eating the meat was breathtaking. STARING at the piece of meat, he was just chewing it very slowly, smiling the whole time..smiling AT the piece of meat..grease all over his face. It was breathtaking..
 I described the incident to Sha, who hand this contribution to make..
"a gremlin, that's what he looks like, a fucking black gremlin"

Monday, 27 December 2010

The unit

My Unit. Nine north. 9N. The shithole. Whatever you want to call it..
 It is comprised of 6 tiers, split into three, one upstairs one downstairs. Each tier has a completely different vibe, and different people on them. You have A tier, which is mostly geeky type neeks and random heads all thrown together..Everyone is pretty quiet, doesn't get loud, it's the happy tier :)
 next you got the C and D tiers, which are the spannish tiers..Nearly everyone on their is spanish/dominican/puerto rican, and they keep to themselves and generally have each others backs. Its pretty loud down their, people singing and dancing and shit most of the day.
 E tier is just a load of random heads all thrown together, people that are just on their own ting, or recluses that don't wanna socialise with the rest of the population. Fair play to them to be frank, bare pricks up in here.
 Underneath E you have F tier..which is comprised of older dudes and a lof of Muslim guys too. It's very chilled down there, no one is loud, and most of the time the tier has next to no one on it..pure ghost tier!
 Lastly you have my tier..B tier..the super rowdy tier. There is always people shouting, playing cards, making food, singing, spitting bars, dancing, all kinds of fuckries..It's mostly black dudes on the tier, apart from me and two spanish guys. If someone is going to go down, it's usually on my tier..and even more likely, in front of my cell (or in my bloody cell).
 There's many characters on the unit who i have interactions with on a daily basis..Whether it's O, a cold blooded killer who has many a body on the street, to Shorty, who does everyones laundry..he comes up to me about 7 times a day telling me i'm a real n****r and shaking my hand..He cleans my clothes really good too. If he doesn't like you, your clothes will just get thrown in the mop bucket and swished around in gob..
 Every morning i am woken up by the same fuckrie. The dude i mentioned who is the (totally OG) barber here, is always on a prank flex. The same prank, every morning. He sneaks down onto our unit and smashes (always random) one of the doors as hard as possible with the sounds like a fuckign gunshot going off...and is always accompanied by spanish dudes screaming with laughter. I have no idea why he does this
 The number one thing that goes down on my tier is mans playing cards. Spades. Arguing. All fucking day long, always arguing, always screaming and shouting about who cheated when (THEY ARE ALL CHEATING ALL OF THE TIME) it's so retarded..whenever they get up to leave there are always cards were they were sitting, and cards on the floor that they were hiding underneath their feet..They don't even bet on this game either...just for example, earlier today i'm getting my sketch on, and doing it very it all errupts. This dude just stands up screaming "yeah n****r yeah n****r" and starts punching the door next to him for about 40 seconds, pure combos on this door while screaming "WHAT NOW N****R" again and again and again..until the guard comes down shouting "what the FUCK are you doing!?!?"
 Swain replies "You n****rs is trash son, you's bumjuice"
 We can't get porn magazines in here. For some reason, in the state, you can get full hardcore porn whatever the fuck you like. But in the state they don't let you. Why they do this is beyond people have to put up with Big booty magazines, or 'hip hop' magazines as they're called..full of moronic girls posing on the roofs of project buildings, with INSANELY big asses..The interviews are amazing. Most of these chicks think they're going to be actresses and go into movies from doing these photoshoots, bless :D
 One dude i had the pleasure of going to court with, was telling me how in the state he had bare issues of buttman magazine, and had a 'sex tape'. Which basically meant a casette tape that had the audio of a porno on it, and he would listen to that while dunnin the dance. Same dude took a shit in the bull pen while there was about 10 of us sitting right next to him.

i'm gonna splash this piece of shit

Another day, another deeply meaningful conversation
"look son, just look"
"look man, they say they're real light in complexion..i know shes one of these motherfuckers"
 Sha is looking at a picture of Nicole Kidman, and is convinced that she is one of those shape shifting lizards like the royal family/David Ike is always talking about..
"motherfuckers is aliens dude!"
He goes on to tell me some amusing prison stories..
 Apparently there was a guy in California who recently got life for stealing a slice of pizza. They have the 'three strikes and you're out' rule up there, as in if you commit 3 felonies, you get life in prison. Nice. Anyhow,
this dude walks into a pizza joint, orders his slice, they give it to him and he starts putting on salt and pepper..
 Then "he took the slice and hauled ass out that motherfucker"
"got out the door then cops gave that n****r the elbow"
 And so he, for a slice of pizza, is now doing a life bid. For a pepperoni.
"What the fuck is wrong with these crackers man, n****r woulda taken the whole pizza, they gonna give the n****r the chair?
"that n****r didn't have no extra cheese or nuthin, shit"

 Sha then goes on to tell me about one of his own endevours..
When Sha was in the SHU, he was working as an orderly. Meaning he would be giving people clean clothes, mopping up, doing general handyman shit around the rooms. He was having a conversation with an inmate in his cell, and someone interupted him. Bad move son.
 "yo this don't involve you, punk"
The guy replies with more smart mouth shit..another bad move.
 Sha says that everytime he is mopping near the guys cell, he spits on his window. Not only that, he lets the guy know that if he has a problem, sign up for recreation and they can settle it. The dude pussies out, but continues talking shit to Sha. The dude gets more spit on his windows, and the occasional running kick to the door.
 One of the guards let's Sha know that he is a pedophile. He is in here for messing with little kids..
 In the SHU you are taken to shower every other day. You are locked in there (on your own thank FUCK) and have to wait til the orderly comes to give you fresh clothes..Sha says that he was going to get him before he went in, but
"I couldn't get him good, cos, the gate and the door was in the way"
 But he had to be let out.
"i said to myself, im'a get him good"
 Sha puts on some gloves. Big gloves, that come up to your elbows. He pretended to clean while the dude is in the shower, all the while he was some water in the microwave..for 20 minutes. This water is so hot it kjeeps evaporating, and has to be refilled many hot that the cup is actually melting.
 The timing was pefect.
He took the water out, and walked up the stairs..
 One of the guards saw him first though
"yo Manson, what the fuck you doing with that?"
"making some coffee.."
"isn't that too hot? that shit is bubbling!?"
"I like it this hot"
It dawns on the guard that Sha was about to "splash that n****r"
Manson is told to go down the stairs..
"If she wasn't there i'da splashed you, baby raping bitch motherfucker"
Word. He still has the cup, it is completely melted.

Friday, 24 December 2010


Ordinary day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Sitting in my cell drinking some tea, looking at photos of my loved ones. One of my freinds come to the cell..
"Hey t-dizly, what's up n*****?)
"Nothing. Same shit, different day. I'm in jail."
"Trying to find a way to escape?"
"i know a way"
"c'mon, i'll show you"
i stand up
"You's a stupid n*****"
fair play.
 Sha tells me it's time to clean the cell. No arguments there. Start sweeping, then mopping the floor, everything is looking and smelling hospital-standard-clean. Nice. Time to go check my emails...
 I walk onto the floor, and head sirens going off, cops jumping out from nowhere with bats screaming at everyone to get the fuck back in our cells..
 We go back into our cells..the captain runs down, and starts shouting if anyone saw what happened. The guy next to us says he did, so they pull him out of the cell, cuff him and drag him out the unit..nice! I find out that this is what happens if you witness an incident...
 Basically, this is what happened...
We have had this COCKsucker working recently, he walks around thinking he is hung like Lexington Steele, and loves messing with people. It's coming upto christmass, we are in jail, give us a fucking break. But he, like a lot of the people that work here, don't see us as human beings, mainly as criminals who don't deserve the shit off their whack trainers. So fuck you too.
 Anyway, he was doing his usual inspecting every room 3 times a day routine, and one of the biggest/toughest dudes in the unit told him to go suck a dick. He, unsuprisingly, took it personally. In the typical professional manner that most people americans do their jobs, he then proceeded to TELL the other inmates in here that he was going to 'fuck him up', which no one believed, as the inmate would've absolutely pulverised him..
 Next day comes. The donkey dick sucker still has beef.
Instead of taking it out with O, he decides to pick on the second smallest guy in the unit, M. Seriously, of all the people, he picks on someone that is 4/5ft tall, and doesn't give anyone any problems. Basically he told Me to go into the visitors room (something hes not allowed to do), told him to stripsearch (something hes not allowed to do), then when M was in his boxer shorts, pushed him face first into the wall when he asked why he was being strip search. Then a fight broke out. Many people say they witnessed the guard holding M in a headlock, punching him in the face. Real professional.
 So...we then have to spend the rest of the day locked down. 24 hours. We are only let out to go and get food...
 at least i got some medication in the room...

Thursday, 23 December 2010

Bang Bang boogie shit

I wake up to the sound of an astronomical fart. It sounds like someone savagely strangling a duck.
"Yo cellie, i just it smells like straight shit..i think i shat myself"
 Another day in paradise..
Jail is long. It's fucking LONG man, seriously.
You start to look at things in a different light after a while, you kind of have to otherwise you would go completely mental and it would turn into shanksville tennesse.
 Being in here, you are detached from society. Most people know this. Life in here though, is a society in itself. There are a lot of politics, business, jokeries and general everyday shit going down that would be happening on road. Overall, you should count your blessings. Everyone. There are motherfuckers all around the world that simply didn't wake up today, people that didn't have a chance at life like me and you get every morning. To wake up, and have the gift of being able to get out of your bed and go make yourself a cup of tea or coffee ('corfee' as they say here..retards) is a blessing in itself.
 It might not be fucking gourmey el swanky le noshy, but in jail you get food. It's warm, it's edible, and it will keep you going throughout the day.
 In general, if you put the effort in, most of the luxuries you get on road you can get your hands on in prison. You can eat good, you can get some kush, coke, or whatever your poison is, cigarettes, anything. For a certain price. The biggest thing, and the only thing other than freedom that you will miss, is female companionship. That was the biggest adjustment for me, and i assume for most inmates in here. It's fucking lame. Man's is a lover not a fighter, and i've had to turn that around into being a pure fighter in the last couple of months. When in Rome i guess..
..But the point is, you still live. You still laugh. You have good days, and bad days. Most importantly, you need to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Your time in jail needs to be spend as productively as possible, as that is all it is, time. They can't hurt you, they can't break your legs, all they can take from you is is all mental. It doesn't have to be wasted time though. Up until about a month ago, i was stuck in the mindset that my life had been stopped, completely put on hold, while i am in this facility going through this nightmare. That is not the case. Life doesn't have to stop, it's all upto you. As long as you are learning something new everyday, your day has not been wasted. If you are expanding your mind, learning things about yourself and how you view the world, you are gaining new things every day..things that on the outside you would not have the time to do. This is a place to polish up on parts of you that are rusty. Sharpen your tools, focus your mind on dealing with your problems in an Intelectual way, instead of emotionally. Train yourself. Fuck how you got in here, your here now so you have to just deal with it. It was all in gods plan, it was written out for you a long time ago. You couldn't have done anything differently, as if you would've, it wouldn't have been you doing it! What's going to be is going to be...i just need to make sure i have a hand in it, to make it the best it can be. This is, in Sha's words, Gods way of saying
"N****r, tighten the fuck up"
 God gave me a slap on the wrist. I should, and do, count my blessings. The negative lifestyle i was leading, and the people i had surrounded myself with were only leading me on a path to unhappyness, unfulfilment and drama..all things i don't need in my life. My time is very precious, no matter where it is spent. There is only ever going to be one Timothy G******* in this world. I was put on this planet at exactly the right time by my creator, for a reason..And so was everyone else.
 "Life is a stage, and everyone has their part to play"
 I've spent time trying to figure out other peoples actions also.. How people can treat me/others the way they do.. But it's pointless. Something i forget, and need to be remembered of often, is that not everyone has the same values and principles that i do. Not everyone has had the same upbringing that i have. Everybodies parents are different, and they help shape you as a person and the moral fibre that you are made of. Luckily, my parents are amazing human beings that showed me how to love and show compassion for my freinds, family and loved ones..and no matter how hard you try, some people,
will never change.
Sha has some extremely good advice along the same lines...
 "know the limitations of kindness. If you pick up a snake from the road so it doesn't get hit by a car, and it bites you, you shouldn't be angry. Despite your intentions, it was still a snake."

Tuesday, 21 December 2010

The Flood

Things in MCC are definitely a lot more relaxed compared to some of the other jails i have heard stories about..after all, this is a pre-trial facility. Not to say that is doesn't has its fair share of shankings, beatings and what not..
 But still, things could always be worse!
 One evening over a cup of coffee, Sha tells me about a facility called El Rino.
El Rino is in Oklahoma. When i asked Sha what there worst facility he has been to was, without hesitation, he said El Rino.
 The description i got of this place, is it is a HUGE holding facility, holding about 800 inmates. Imagine a warehouse that has been converted into one big dormatory. Most of the windows are either smashed, or completely punched through. There are Rats in most of the cells, and not only rats, but pidgeons in the main room. Sha recalled waking up to pidgeon shit not only on his bed, but his forehead. He said most people, once they had caught a pidgeon, would pull it's head off. Sounds grim, but that ain't the worst thing he said was going down..
 Apparently there were a few cats in this facility. They had apparently climbed in through the broken windows, or through the roof that had many holes in it. Bad move.
 The description of the cat Sha gave, was that he would walk around really slowly limping, and his asshole 'was hanging out and was as big as a coke can'. Whatever do you mean?
 He explained.
One morning he heard a cat 'screaming bloody murder' but didn't know what was going on. Later that day, he found out through a fellow inmate that people had been taking it in turns bumming the cat, hence it's saggy asshole. Great stuff.
 Not just cats got the presidential treatment..It was seen as a badge of honour if you managed to catch one of the rats. Not just because of their size, but if they bit you, you were fucked as most had all kinds of diseases..But the people that had caught them, would put them on leashes in their rooms..shoe laces, whatever was at hand..until the rat just chewed through the lace/it's own leg, and then they would "bash the n*****s head in" if it tried to escape. nice.
 A story which Sha seemed to have a lot of pride talking about, was a flooding that happened in Pennsylvania. He has always spoke about how the inmates here are 'as soft as shit' and have no loyalty, were as in other facilities if something happens to one of the inmates, all of them will unite and revolt. Live.
 On this occasion, Sha was in the hole/solitary for fighting...and one of his partners (who is now here) came to the cell and told him "get your sail boat, we're flooding this motherfucker"
"i don't know, everyone is doing it"
 Without anymore persuasion, Sha got ready to flood. Plugged up the toilet, plugged up the sinks, turned taps on, constantly flushed toilet.
 "timdog, these motherfuckers HATE it when you flood this bitch"
I can imagine. They get mostly inmates to do the upkeep of the prison. Cleaning, giving people new bedding and toilet paper to wipe your shitty behind, things like that. But when the inmates kick off, the staff have to do everything.
 "dude, it was beautiful..we did it the day before was like Niagra Falls up in that motherfucker"
"fuck them crackers"

Monday, 20 December 2010

Bare Minimum

"Bare minimum you gotta hit that n****r with the Dr Spark joint"
 It's a weekday. Same as any other day in here...well, almost
I wake to a completely fonged out room. It's like there's a smoke machine that's been turned on, but the smoke smells strangely chemically and unlike anything i've ever smelt before..
 I notice that i am not alone in the room. Far from it. We're talking about 8 deep. In a two men cell.
"Yo Timdog, go back to sleep n****r."
About an hour of pretending to be asleep while the majority of the Big time gangsters bun down my cell,
it's time to get up. The smoke has cleared (mostly) and the weird chemical smell is almost gone = talcom powder hides most odours, even farts, it's a must..especially after your 260 pound cellie has taken a 'New York Shit'. Rise and Shine.
 It seems we had a visiter in the night...santa claus! We find two sacks outside the door (i'm not bullshit) filled with sweets and crisps an shit..nothing amazing, but still, raggo! Sha informs me that i can sell it for 15 dollars if i don't want it, as
"N*****s be fiending for this shit, kid" i opt to hold on to it for now...

 Sha get's up, i make myself some coffee, an go back to my cell. It's fucking hot in the jail still, so i'm jamming on my bed wearing my XXXL shorts, an admiring the progress working out has done to my stomach...Sha comes in the room
"Where the fuck you think you at n*****? St Tropez?"
 i laugh
"You won't be laughin when one of them freak n*****s come in here an try suck your toes, kid"
 i laugh again...but look for my socks..
I hear Sha repeat when he just said to the gang of mobsters/bloods outside the cell, which is met with ruptuous laughter and i can hear people coming to the cell..
"Yo, this funny n***** is pulling his socks up to his knees yo!"
 Everyone laughs. Pricks.

Sunday, 19 December 2010


When i write shit on this blog, not a lot of thought has gone into it. At all. It's either me sitting in front of a computer, with a shitload of angry yanks waiting behind me (wait your turn you fucking nobs i don't care if you see me typing this), typing away at a billion miles an hour, just writing whatever comes into my head..
 Or i am in a situation which is funny/interesting/you will laugh at, and i decide to jot some shit down on whatever is near me. This is the latter.

 It's a Saturday Afternoon.
How do you spend most your saturday afternoons? Hungover? Chilling?
Whatever it may be, i hope it's healthy, constructive, and you have clean air.
 I on the other hand, am in a very different kettle of fish so to speak. What do you mean? well..
I am sitting in an almost pitch black room while a 260 pound notorious bank robber is taking a 'New York Shit' about less than a metre away from me. It stinks like the pits of hell, fart vapours have clouded the room, and i can hardly breath. I'm sitting next to the window, with my face almost pressed up against the glass trying to get some kind of fresh air..
This is the life :D

 At the very least, after shitfest 2010, there is some kind of relief.
I've spent most of my adult life smoking weed. This is not a good thing. I'm not proud of it, i wish i wouldn't have, but it happened so that's that. I always smoked zoots..rizla, khali, tobacco, roach (for those who are complete retards)
 I never smoked cigarettes/tobacco on its own. Ever. I always deemed it completely pointless...why smoke a cigarette when you can bun a zoot down?
 For now, there is no zoots to bun down (there was, but people got shift cos of informer pussyclats) so mans had to make do with whatever is available. Of all the places to start smoking, a New York City Federal prison..Amazing.
 For now, i'm feeling a little relaxed. My brain has been extremely exhausted from worrying the past few days, it's felt like all my thoughts have been placed in a washing machine and just constantly spinning from the moment i wake til i go to sleep..Especially as i've stopped taking the bonerific medication.
 Sha is an extremely good cellmate. Literally couldn't have asked for anyone better. Not only is he fucking huge, and one of if not THE most respected inmate in the unite, but he is a good person who is helping to look out for me. If i do something wrong, he keeps me in check. If there is some kind of important information i need to know, he lets me know. We have a lot of people passing through the cell. Most of them established Mobsters (made men) or gang bangers, mostly of very high rank.
 So later in the day Sga sees the B6K i have on my hand. He says he never knew i was a banger (gang banger), to which i reply
"it's not it's a graffiti crew from England"
remember how i said that the head of the New York chapter of the Bloods was in our unit? Well..Sha informs me that 6 is the number that the Crips use, and that BK stands for Blood Killer. SO..B6K is going to be seen as a Crip gang..
 The head of the Bloods is usually in our cell, and most of the other Bloods in the unit also are freinds with Sha.
Thanks for the heads up...
Welcome to Shittypantsville Tennesse

Funday Friday

The weekends in here suck croatian donkey dick with dijon mustard.
On Fridays they usually play a movie on a few of the Tv's. They have about four plasma screens that are constantly on most of the day. Not quite as good as it sounds though...people mostly watch things like Jerry Springer, the Maury Show, or cop shows like CSI and the like..this completely fucking baffles me, you're sitting in federal prison and you are CHOOSING to watch a tv show about the police running around arresting people? Morons.
 I havn't actually sat down and properly watched tv in almost two years now. Since moving to the states, i completely lost interest in watching the box, there is always something more productive you can be doing that watching something just for the sake of it..go draw something, go for a run, whatever..If i ever wanted to watch a tv show i'd just download it, moves n all. Fuck Tv.
 (i'm not gonna lie, Total Recall was on last night. I watched it.)
 Even if you try to watch tv in here, you will most likely end up getting into a fight or argument. People walk around with the tv remotes in their pockets. People who are not watching tv. They will just spend the day walking around doing whatever the fuck they're doing, not letting anyone change the channel. Safe for that one.
 Or, you will be watching a documentary of a movie or something that is interesting, and someone will just come along and change the channel onto something else, then walk away from the tv. Might sound like not much of a big deal, but it's infuriatingly annoying..the prick might as well have just come upto you an farted in your face. Safe.
 So, it's a Friday. Oooh what could i get upto tonight, oh the posibilities..
First off, food time. I wanna make some wraps. They usually consist of tuna, some noodles, cheese, salami cut up, and other assorted bullshit thrown into the mix..But my cooking partner T, is off at Jewish services.
 Church here is not used as a place of worship. It's used as fuckries central.
People from all floors can sign up for church, so if you want to go see one of your buddies or just go drink some wine, sign up for church! I don't go anymore, i just found it annoying having people just loudly laughing and joking, even telling the pastor to shut the fuck up..Man dem taking pure libertys..

 I'm not feeling very well at the moment. I have a sore throat, runny nose, and my head feels like i have a wet towel wrapped around my head...which as i don't have a tracking device shoved up my nose, is not a good thing. There is fuck all to do, everyone is being uber loud playing cards outside my cell, so i decide to take a disco nap.
 Taking a nap in the day consists of sleeping with a pen or sharp instrument in your hand as standard. Happy times!
It takes me a while to get to sleep, all i can hear is everyone shouting outside the room...all they do is fucking play spades all day long, accuse each other of cheating (they all are cheating), and then hurling the same insults at each other just in different accents..
and so on..
 Finally manage to get some kip, wake up an hour later just as T is getting back..Feel like absolute shit, i've been drinking hot cups of tea all day to try an sort my throat out, but it ain't doing shit other than making me piss like a shit stained old man with a leaking colostomy bag.
 T is getting pissed because i'm not helping to make the food, but i'm finding it very hard getting out of bed. There is some jazz playing on the radio, and for the first time in a while, i'm actually feeling pretty relaxed. I have been feeling extremely worn out recently, my brain is constantly circling the same subjects again and again, never getting any kind of new conclusions or's fucking exhausting! People keep commenting on me like
"Yo Timdog you ok? You look like you wanna stab a motherfucker.."
perhaps a good night's sleep and some crude munch will do the trick..

Do good, because that is why you are here

Try make it a daily practice to begin each day by thinking of someone else,
and then making a decision to do something, anything, that will bring a smile to their face. :)
 We get to go up on the roof of MCC Every other day. It's usually for basketball, sometimes football (NOT soccer, get it right) for an hour at a time..I don't play basketball for many reasons. Mostly because everyone is 6 ft tall, and they seem to be mixing the sport of basketball with bare knuckle boxing when they play..
 Football on the other day, why the fuck not. Those that know me (WERD UP) from back in the ends are well versed in my Maradonna-like skills in football. On a serious note, i'm fucking rubbish at football. I can't do more than one kickup, but i can tackle the ball off people pretty easily. In England i'm looked at as being absolutely quadraplegically spasticatedly shit at football, in New York on the other hand, people actually think i'm good. Seriously. Every time we have Rec, i get these spanish dudes coming up to me
"Hey english, no football?" and so on..Up until about a week ago, i was playing in plimsoles. Those are the shoes you are given as standard in jail, and they are fucking wack. They are falling apart as it is, but when playing football in them, you can't run, and everytime you want to kick the ball/shoot you have to weigh up whether it is worth the shoe will be flying off with it. Luckily this dude known as 'OG' because he's done 25 years in jail, gave me his 'sneakers' when he left. How kind!
 On basketball days, it's a lot more chilled affair. They have a stereo system on the roof, and usually pump out some kind of 'young weezy' or 'niki minaj', but on occasions, they will play some funk, james brown, rick james etc..which is cool! Watching a load of heads play basketball, and play it extremely well, while drinking some nice hot coffee with vanilla milk is one of my highlights of the week. The horrible air they have in the building, that is just constantly circulated through fart infested ventilation systems, is making me sick..and i don't want people to know i am sick, because it's more than likely i will be sent to quarantine. And BUN that off for xmas..being in HERE is bad enough! So the fresh air on the roof really is good for me..
 There are a few people that think they can spit bars in here too...they can't, all these dribbling morons can't rhyme for shit, speaking of, i heard someone try and rhyme the word shit with shit the other day. Amazing. I think it's only a matter of time before some Slew Dem lyrics get busted out an shower these wastemen WAY down the road :D
 a nice quote i read
'To be nobody-but-myself, in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you like everyone else-
means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting'

Saturday, 18 December 2010

pranksville tennesse

Couple nights ago, it's just after dinner time..I usually don't eat the slop they serve here, it looks like someone stuffed a lot of vegetables up their ass then shit them out onto a plate. Smells like it too.
 So i try to cook. Or i get people to cook for me :D
It's usually T that i make food with. He's a joker, dude's about 6.5 and looks like that guy from Beetlejuice in the waiting room with the shrunken head. This is most likely due to smoking bare Crystal Meth. But anyhow, he's my freind and we cook up some serious munch on any given day..
 I enquire whats on the menu tonight, and i get a very hostile response. Tis mad. Very mad. So mad he throws all the ingredients all over the table, in a dramatic fashion. Oh dear.
 What's the matter?
 what do you mean?
The explanation i get is this..
(The whole time i am trying my hardest not to laugh..)
 On the previous day, T is looking through a copy of GQ magazine. Nothing wrong with that. Goes to take a shit, comes back, and notices one of the pages has been ripped out. Later that day he returns to his room, to find the page..which has a guy posing in speedo pants..on his pillow.
 As one can probably tell, people don't have a lot of things to do in jail. So people do fuckries like this. They don't end at just gay inuendos either..
 A ritual which i was thankfull spared, but witnessed, is getting people savagely beaten up upon arrival at the prison.
It happened a little something like this..
 A group of guys approached the new russian guy, someone who looks very scared and bewildered (cough cough) and safed him up. Few days down the line, the dude was approached and told he
"needs to put the work in, kid"
Sha told him
"if you don't go and punch that guy in the face, we're all going to beat the shit out of you. now."
Faced with punching one guy in the face, compared to four, the joke is in motion.
..but the guy getting punched in the face is one of Sha's freinds. M.
 This dude looks extremely similar to Busta Rhymes, apart from he's a lot bigger, without dreadlocks, and a lot of very very nasty scars all over his arms and neck. If i took a running fly kick into this guys face, i would most likely break my foot, and then be in grave. in that order.
 So this new guy then goes over to M, while he is getting his haircut, and punches him in the face..
M proceeds to bodyslam this poor guy about 25 times, which is met by much laughter.
 Another golden nugget from Sha...
In his last prison (Rikers) he was going to get something out of his room, and noticed a note that had been placed on his pillow. it said
"go look in the microwave, now"
off Sha goes to the microwave, inside he finds another note..
"go look in the sink, now"
off he goes to the sink...until he notices that hanging above the sink is a massive poster of a guy getting fucked in the butt.
He told me even the prison officers were in on the joke, and were creasing..jokeries

Friday, 17 December 2010

Good money kid

A year ago, i was hench. I'd got myself into the best shape i've been in, for years. How i did this was pretty simple.
I had very little money. Because of this, i was eating one meal a day..Usually consisting of eggs on toast, or scrambled eggs, or french toast. My money was running out fast. My plane ticket back to the big smoke was rapidly expiring on me, i had about three weeks to get a job otherwise i was going to be stranded the clock was ticking.
 I knew deep down that if i didn't do all i could to stay here, use every resource and try every avenue open to me, i would return to England unhappy, and i would always regret it. So i pulled my finger out.
 My routine..get up, drink a cup of tea, and listen to some Tempa T or Chronic. Then i'd go for a run...the route i took was usually the same, about an hour of running/jogging, and i'd take detours and extra laps depending on how i was feeling at the time. I stuck to this routine regimently, everyday. It worked wonders, i not only seriously got in shape, but it also changed how i was thinking and put me in an extremely positive mindframe. This led to a huge boost in my confidence, which snowballed into every aspect of my life.
 I just had to then get a job..which wasn't a piece of cake. I applied for everything from barwork, to washing dishes, to extra work on tv..eventually it paid off, and i managed to score myself a job at an audio visual consultants as an office messenger. The pay was weak, but i was working a couple of blocks from the empire state building, in the heart of New York, and it made me very happy. My life was the best it's ever been.
 After a while, with the help of others, i fell back into bad habits. Mainly smoking weed. This has been one of the biggest problems for me, i smoke, i get lazy and paranoid, which makes me doubt myself and what i can achieve.
 Unsuprisingly, once i started smoking again (i quit last year) my healthy lifestyle started to decline. Instead of eating healthily, i was ordering take away food. Instead of going for a run, i would smoke a joint and just surf the net. Instead of exploring the city i had dreamed of living in most of my life, i was stagnating, returning to the same unhealthy lifestyle i had once lived in the big smoke. It was dry. I was a dustman.
 Being thrown head first into the lions den that is the Metropolitan Correctional Facility, has had many big effects on me. Mostly, it has given me time to focus. This is something you rarely, if ever, get to do in your daily life. There is always something to distract you, something you think of to do instead..whether its healthy or unhealthy. In this shithole, you have all the time in the world to reflect on your life, your choices, and what makes you happy. There are certain attributes that after 25 years on this beautiful planet, i don't need in my life anymore. One of them is smoking weed all the time. It does nothing good for me, other than make me feel very horny/wanting to fuck. And thinking with my sujuk is what got me into this mess in the first place..
 Coming in here, i realised i had to start working out. Not only was i aware that i had let myself go, but when confronted by a rowdy bunch of 98 criminals all looking like they failed to get a part in 300 because they're too hench, my brain was telling me that i had to bulk up, FAST. For the first few months i wasn't working out..mainly because i was just feeling sorry for myself, walking around like droopy with a fistful of valium up his ass. Once i shook off the bullshit, time to get to work.
 The routine i came up with, was going through the deck of cards doing pushups. That consists of picking four cards at a time, adding up the number (say a 6, 8, 8 and a jack/ten) then doing that until you have worked your way through the deck. I think that's 200? something like that. Then after pushups, doing 5 sets of 30 situps. It's starting to pay off pretty quickly, were once was a beer belly, now is...well, the last remnants of a beer belly with a load of muscles behind them.
 There is certainly a lot of peer pressure in here too. I'm working out with people that are fucking HEEEENCH, and they don't let me stop my workout til THEY are done. "nah kid, you got 50 more to do son" :O long! But it's good, it motivates me to keep pushing...
 One of the best things about constantly working out, it puts you on the biggest next hype. Man's been parring off guys like it ain't a ting, u get me..speaking of..
 Remember the clown i spoke about? Well, his bozo cellmate obviously forgot the boyment that happened, and tried his luck yesterday. After i'd been working out.
 I ordered some shorts from the 'comissary' (shop) and they didn't have the size i ordered, so sent me 3XL shorts instead. Fuck it, i'm not waiting another week for a pair of shorts, so i flossed em. Most people just gave me props like
"yehhh yehh, timdizzle!" and so on..
 So i walk over to wait to use the computer, and i hear this blubbering bafoon mumble something about
"he thinks hes gangster now"
Bad timing.
"nothing i was talking to him"
which was met by raptuous laughter by all the people standing around..including one of the highest members of the New York chapter of the bloods, who continued to fan the flames by pointing at the guy and shouting
"yooo son, timdog almost slapped the shit outta you, he's acting like a real n***** now kid"
Real talk.

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Sleepless nights

I have trouble sleeping.
Not just because of my current predicament.
My thoughts and memories keep me awake most nights. They are as comforting as they are upsetting. I find it hard trying to relax and not let my mind just wander off on its own...meditation has helped, but it's hard meditating when you have a 260 pound guy snoring like a rhino who's been shot with a tranquilizer dart in the asshole.
 I think a lot about my freinds and family, and people that are helping to support me through my incarceration. It means more than words can express, i love you all.
 I stopped taking my sleepytime medication recently. I was told by the doctor who was prescribing it to me, after i had told her my doctor, doctor fartbreath from blatant-bullshit-lane, had prescribed me the same drug in England,
"The only possible side effect you may get, and this is a one in a million chance, is a 'sustained erection' for four hours".
Just like you, i found this more than amusing. Not just because i was talking to a very short lady about 'sustained erections' who looked like one of the riddlers with a PHD, but more the thought of what could come from this. She told me if this happened, i should tell my prison officer immediately and seek help. Ok. Just try to imagine what would happen if i told the failed pig who is in charge that i had a boner and it wouldn't go away? Nevermind...
 One of my good pals took the time after hearing what medication i was on, to inform me that it has many other side effects other than the bonerthon described above. A possible side effect is getting a permanent Lob on that you have to get SURGERY to get rid of..and then u can't get a barry ever again. Errr bun that off!
 So, i find myself staying up into the very early hours, gazing out my window onto the street below. I sit very close to the window, as you can get a tiny bit of fresh/cold air coming through. The street light outside always has a golden look to it..the streets are always empty, and remind me of a time when i was free.
 I have always been a person who enjoys exploring. More times than not, it has been alone.
There is something i have always found very magical and romantic about being out in the early hours of the morning, on empty streets, just me and my thoughts.
 When i first moved to Queens from Coney Island, i would try to be out as much as possible. The apartment i was staying in was not ideal. It was some crazy turks apartment, i was renting a room the same size as my cell, and the apartment was infested with ants. So i would try to be away from that place as much as possible.
 Many nights i spent on my own. Just filling up my bag with a few cans of paint, beers and some pre rolled joints to smoke on the way home. I'd sometimes run into people while i was out, but it was never my intention. Just the feeling of walking the streets when most people are at home tucked up in bed, and being out free to explore anywhere and everywhere that i desire is something i yearn for like hell in here. It's what made me feel alive, knowing how big the world is out there, and that its mine for the taking..I feel like it's killing me being locked in here.
 Not just walking the streets of New York..I would get the same feeling back home in the big smoke. Whether i was in central, to being in the middle of nowhere walking along a train track in the dead silence, only the sound of the stones underneath me echoing in the distance.
 I found myself in the predicament i am in, because i forgot how much i enjoy being on my own, and exploring new places with no one but myself. I was looking for romance in a big city, and sadly, was looking in all the wrong places.
..In reality i didn't need anyone. Just myself, my thoughts..and a can of rusto.

Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Americas Demonising of Islam

There are many different people from many different walks of life in this shithole. I'm surrounded by petty drug dealers, murderers, bank robbers (word up sha!), cold blooded killers, drug barons, and terror suspects.
 In the light of recent news reports of terror sects being up and running in america, and the constant attempts of the american media to paint Islam in the worst possible view, i thought i'd share a fellow inmates story with you...

 The American government has many undercover operatives. It might not suprise you to hear that there are a lot of undercover police working in mosques. The reason, most people would assume, is to listen out for any kind of extremist behaviour, terrorist plans or anything along those lines..not encourage them.
 It was brought to my attention that while attending a Mosque in New York, this inmate was approached by an undercover police operative..who openly spoke about his hatred for the United States, and was actually encouraging the other young, impressionable, congragation to adopt these radical views. To go further, this individual was actually going to poor neighbourhoods in the Bronx and Queens, trying to recroute members to his plan. Once there were enough people, he asked these poor young men if they wanted to make some money. One hundred thousand dollars to blow up a mosque.
 That is a lot of money. Not that that would sway me personally, but being from a poor background being offered that amount of money to blow up a mosque (on a day when no one would be inside, the aim was no casualties) seems like a choice some people would have a hard time turning down.
 Some didn't.
This government agent then gave these young men GROUND TO AIR MISSILES (think bazookas) that had had the ignition ripped out/deactivated. Then four days before the actual plan was set to go, they were arrested, plastered all over the local media as these animals that had been planning to kill hundreds or worshipers and labeled a 'terror sect' that had been plotting the attack for years. Depsite the leader being a CIA operative, and actually organising the plan himself..
Come to your own conclusions. Mine is, it's fucked up.

Tuesday, 14 December 2010

its gonna be a beef ting

The situation i have found myself in, is a tricky one. I am in a pre-trial facility, meaning i'm just waiting around to go to trial, or 'cop out' which means pleading guilty to certain offences. While in here, you are monitered on your behaviour, how you get on with staff and inmates, and general horseshit like that.
 When it comes to sentancing, the type of facility you will go to depends on your pre sentance report. As in how you behaved in jail or on the street leading up to sentancing. You can go to a camp/low/medium/high. It also has to do with whether you did a violent crime, drugs, things like that.
 Common sense would tell you, that i'm hoping for a low category. To do this would mean staying out of trouble, keeping my nose clean, and no fighting. In an ideal world, everyone would do this. People would have enough common sense to realise that the more fuckries you do, the more you're just fucking your own case. But this is New York Federal Jail, if the majority of people had common sense, they wouldn't be in here. So thing's don't always go to plan..and when they don't you're faced with a choice. Either let someone take advantage/mug you off, so you don't end up fighting or getting send to the box, or you fight and deal with it as you see fit.
 Some people in here, are fucking clowns. Bozo the clown, zippo the clown, dickface the clown, we have them all. Clowns behaviour are motivated by trying to get laughs. As they are clowns..u get me.
 Being an Englishman here, and one of the only white people in around 90 inmates, i have to deal with clowns on a regular basis. Most people can either be laughed off, or if they overstep the mark, you exchange words. Sometimes words are not enough.
 A lot of these clowns are absolute pussies. They are from the bozo section. As sha said "Stay in the bozo section, you step into the real n****r section you're gonna get hurt". Some of these morons forget what section they are from, and need reminding. And so the story unfolds..
 I was having a bit of heated exchanges with one queen moron. The way he operated, was constantly talking shit to everyone. never doing anything other than TALKING shit. He is cellmates with another clown. They have a circus, it's called willy wankers . This clown had on many occasions, pushed his luck. We were freinds for a certain amount of time, then the jokes got too much. I told him one day, that if he continued to make jokes about me, we are going to have problems. We didn't speak for a few days.
 I find myself on the computer. It's two minutes before lockdown, i've just got on, and i have shit to write amusing things for people like you who should be working but are reading this instead! So i just got on, and i have shit to do.
"yo hurry up"
"err how about no."
"how long you gonna be hurry up"
"i'm gonna be as long as i'm gonna be, shut the fuck up"
 I finish on the computer, when i FEEL like finishing, and here some muttered words about being a faggot or something (being the intelligent non ignorant people they are, americans love that word) and i ignore it and walk to my cell.
 The guard comes round and locks all the doors. This royal baffoon is an orderly, meaning he gets to stay out to mop the floors. Doesn't get paid, just does it so he can stick his tongue right up the guards ass for brown noseries.
 My door is locked. This clown comes up to my door an starts talking mad shit about how i'm lucky i didn't get fucked up and so on and so on, i just stare at him, in disbelief of this morons cowardice. Shy is just standing behind me staring at him too, saying nothing. The cocknose leaves.
"dude, it's time to settle this" Sha says very quietly..

 Enough was enough. Sha explained to me how if this was ignored, would only escalete, and the other clowns from the circus would get in their clown cars and come join in the moron parade. So it had to be dealt with. A plan was formed.

 Next morning, i prepared. I got all my letters together, put all of my things in order. I was preparing to get sent to the box. It was inevitable, if you're going to fight, you're going to solitary. I was prepared for this, there was no way that this morning was not going to start any other way than me going into this guys cell, pulling him off his bed by his braids, and beating shit down his leg. Sha was with me, and said to me..
"if his cellmate touches you, i'm gonna make sure he touches every fucking surface in this motherfucker"
 So that was that. We were just waiting for the guard to let us out in the morning, then it's rumble time. I had made the decision and was sticking to it, fuck doing this blog, fuck being comfortable in my unit, i couldn't smash the prosecutors face in reversable style, so this guy was going to have to do.
 Sha has a better idea.
Instead of us going in the cell and causing a bloodbath, Sha says he is going to talk to the guy and arrange us rumbling later in the day. This way, the guard isn't going to come running when he starts screaming, and there is a posibility that i might get away with it.
 So Sha goes to speak with him. He comes back.
"dude, i told him the situation. I let him know that you are pissed as a motherfucker, and had every intention of coming in here while you was asleep with a lock in a sock and smashing your face in. He apologised to me, and i told him that if i even see him or any of his freinds talking about you again, i'll drag them to the cell, close the door, and let T beat shit down their leg and drag you out in front of all your little bozo freinds."
 Since that morning, the guy won't even look me in the face. He avoids all eye contact.
I overheard everyone playing cards outside my door the other morning, the clown starts talking trash about someone, and is met with the reply "yo if don't shut the fuck up I'll go wake Timdog up an get him to slap the shit out of you"..which was met with silence.

 All things happen for a reason. This happened for a reason, it was a reminder for me. I'm not in a holiday camp, i'm on vacation, i'm in jail. It's serious now. Metaphorically speaking, i'm Jonah inside the fucking whale. If i don't stay on top of things, i will drown. And that can't happen.

It's hot in hell, kid

When we are 'served' dinner, we are given the food in brown plastic trays. They are of cutting edge design. Because of this, they do not let anyone use the microwave or use the phones or computers until they get every tray back. They are very adamant about geting these trays back before anyone uses anything.
 Up until the last month, it has been absolutely freezing in the prison. Most nights it has been very hard to sleep, that is, if i wasn't staying the nice cozy fat factory that is my cell.
 Around mid last week, they turned the heating on. The heating ain't no joke. It's like we're in Barbados, which makes everyone very agitated and stressed..Ideal prison conditions.

 It's a Sunday. They've served the slop, it's been eaten, and they're awaiting one tray. It doesn't turn up. On top of that, everyone is in the kitchen cooking away at all their assorted crudely put together meals and feasts..
 "THAT'S IT, LOCK IT DOWN, NOW" screams Miss A. great.
So now everyone is locked into their tiers, in the boiling heat, waiting for this tray to show up. Miss A is in an extremely bad mood..and so she should be. If it was one of the other Prison Officers on duty, man's wouldn't have rushed the kitchen like that. It's getting hotter and hotter by the minute. Then someone thinks they will share some Oscar Wilde worthy information on what he thinks would help the situation..
"someone needs to fucking jerk off in that bitches face"
After about half an hour, the culprit is found..a screaming match ensures, and now the Leautenant has been called for backup. Getting better by the minute. So the acadamic that said the shakespearian wisdom is shipped off the the SHU/BOX, for an evening in solitary confinement..
 Everyone is now pissed as fuck..Sha shares a story to liven the mood..
Looking at me, he says that i'm lucky i'm not in Rikers Island. I am one of only 2 people in the entire unit, that's about a hundred and something inmates..
"If you was on Rikers son, they'd turn you into a human fan" huh?
Sha divulges a tale of being on Rikers in a holding pen, of around 200 inmates. With an white inmate. The other inmates told him to turn into a human fan, he didn't understand, so they punched him in the face braking his nose. This explanation was good enough, and he took off his shirt and started spinning it around like a helicopter blade. Sha said that he fell asleep, woke up two hours later, an the guy was still fanning..every time he stopped, he got a kidney punch or kick to the groin"
Nice. That's a nice story.
 Sha is full of amazing nuggets of wisdom.
Once while talking to me about my life in New York before i met my ex wife..
"dude, you went from Bell Air to Skid Row"
Word to mother.

Monday, 13 December 2010


One the outside, i listened to a lot of music.
That has obviously somewhat changed since September..
 The majority of people in here, listen to the worst type of music in the world. I'm talking about the type of fake ass hip hop that is all the rage nowdays, Lil Wayne, Young Jeezy etc etc...It's terrible. You know what type of music i'm talking about, the 'MC' sounds like he's had a stroke, is 'spitting' really slowly, just talking about how much money he has, all the bitches in the club, what cars they own etc etc..Give it a fucking rest. Who cares? Morons, that's who.

 I'd like to think i have a varied taste in music. I try to switch things up, and give most shit a try. Favourites would be funk, soul, grime, hardcore, indie and electro. On any given day, or any given playlist, i can flip between D Double E OOH OOH, Earth wind and Fire, Shattered Realm, Stevie Wonder, The Black Keys, The Twelves and so on..
 Sadly for me, mostly things that are not on the radio. Well, not on the radio here anyway..
 From the moment of my arrest, i went a LONG time without hearing ANY kind of music. Nothing. Which was fucking hard! I didn't realise it for a long time, it was only after i heard someone spitting some bars at recreation that i was like "shit, i havn't actually heard a tune in TIME". It was probably a good month and a half i went, in silence (metaphorically, it's loud as a mother fucker up in this joint).
 My cellie at the time Swizzy had been transfered from another prison, and had been waiting to get his belongings sent over for quite a while..when they finally arrived, he had a spare radio, and was kind enough to lend it to me..
 I'll never forget first lying down on my waifer thin mattress on that Saturday night. It was very emotional to listen to, it was like i had been thrown a lifeline back to me as a person..instead of me the guilty until proven innocent criminal. The first tune i heard. It gave me hope, faith and a little bit of my life back. It reminded me who i was, instead of a faceless convict in a concrete tomb. (post the video for the tune after this paragraph, the song is called 'pupu was a rolling stone' the chorus says 'wherever he laid his hat was his home, and when he died...something somethign. you'll find it, its funky)
It took me a while to find some good radio stations. Unsuprisingly, none of them play Terminator MC (put a link to one of his freestyles) or Knuckledust, but i guess i'm going to have to make do for now. The good stations and sets i have found, have become the best thing i look forward to all week..98.7 Kiss FM on a sunday for soul and 89.9 WKCR on a tuesday night for Bluegrass, and Saturdays for reggae and funk. They have digital online broadcasts for those of you in the Uk, so on a Tuesday and a Sunday, tune in...and know that i'm listening too with you..
 It has to be said, the prospect of no grime for the next few years is a depressing one..At least the for now, i can have a bit of comfort knowing that i really am, in this place, "CONNECTED TO MORE GANGS THAN ROSS KEMP, MANCHESTER BACK DOWN TO KENT, THEY'LL DRAW FOR THE LENG 100 PER CENT" :D

Sunday, 12 December 2010!/pages/New-York-Prisoner-63906054/137943486260276

add me up!!!

Look at the ass on this whore

I'm sitting in my cell late at night waiting for my medication to kick in. It's hot. EXTREMELY hot. They have finally turned the heating on in the jail, and it's going into much so, Sha says
"It's as hot as a thousand n****rs in here, no bewlshit". He's right, it is very hot.
 About half hour goes back, and Sha seems completely lost in whatever 'book' he is reading..
I lean off the bunk to see what has got Sha in such a mess..He's looking at a 'Hip Hop' magazine.. Explain?
 In federal prison (fuck the police, that means YOU), you are not allowed porn magazines. I'm informed by fellow inmates that in the state, you are allowed whatever the fuck you like..Buttman, Asscapades and so on..I'm even told a story by Sha about how on a visit he actually fucked his visitor in the smoking room..then ELEVEN months later she said she had just given birth to his child and wanted alimony money lol..Another story that can wait for now! "bitch you ain't no elephant" lol
 So, these 'hip hop' magazines are basically just pictures of women with phenominally big asses (nice!), being asked the most classiest and professional questions by an obviously extremely well educated interviewer. I read one of the interviews, first few questions are innocent enough..age, where are you from...5th question "What is good dick to you?" 6th question "straight or curved?" and so on..class out the ass!
 Sha explains that if we would've met on the street, he really would've showed me the city..
"man, every chick i know woulda been trying to suck yo dick, they'd be boasting about it too like 'yo i sucked off this sean connery talkin motherfucker'" and goes further, letting me know..
"Man, you woulda had chicks sittin' on yo face an everything kid"
..Seems i really was hanging with the wrong cats in New York! Real talk!


I originally am from England. I am quartre English, quarte Polish and hald Turkish. I've got an amazing brother that lives in England, and parents that live in Turkey. I havn't seen my parents in over two years, and my brother for 18 months..

 To get the news that their son was in jail, was obviously a shock to my mum and dad. They knew i wasn't the best behaved child in the world, and knew first hand that i was never one to shy away from dubious activities, but not this. I didn't want to tell my parents for a long while after my arrest, but my wife took it upon herself to tell them. They deserved to know, no matter how upsetting it was for them.

 I was arrested in September. The 17th i believe. It was a Friday, and an early start if i've ever had one..
My parents had planned on coming to see me at the end of the year. I knew they were extremely proud of me. I had come to the city of my dreams, and made it all on my own. The family that had invited me here had basically abandoned me, and i had to fend for many points it looked like i would have to accept defeat and go back to London. I knew if i didn't do all i could, try every possibility, i would always regret it. Because of this attitude, i managed to get myself on my feet, an make it involved a LOT of shitty jobs, but i was happy doing it.
 I think around December mum and dad were planning on coming. They were excited to see their boy, all grown up. I had a sweet apartment, and i had all the material posessions i needed (or thought i needed). They were also looking forward to meeting their new daughter in law. I was their first son to be married, and i knew they were very proud of this. My parents are very loving people, and the girl i chose to be my wife, they showed the same unconditional love and support for..
The last time i saw them was in Turkey at around Christmas 2008. I had often gone to see them every year, and to see my dog Fred who is on his last legs as we speak! But he leads an amazing life for a dog..eating steak most days and swimming in the ocean. Lucky fuck.
 On this trip to turkey, one of my long lost (for a reason) cousins turned up out of the blue. The last time we saw him was in New York when i was younger..he was supposed to take us to the airport and never showed up, and turned his phone off. Nice guy. Anyway, he was full of stories about how he had turned his life around..i mentioned that i've always wanted to live in New York, so he told me to buy a plane ticket and come over! Promises of free places to stay and jobs were also in the mix..So i took the remainder of my student loan, bought a ticket, and off i went..From when i landed to how i got here will have to wait..
 So..back to the present.
Instead of my dear old dad flying to come and see his son and his new life in the big apple, he was flying to try and bail his son out of federal prison. Considering all of the family members i have in New York are verbal diarria spewing bottom feeders, i knew deep down this was never going to happen..For example, one cousin who was the witness at my wedding refused to bail me out, because i didn't go to her sons birthday party. Safe G.
Up until about a week before my fathers arrival, my wife had been supporting me and was behind me 100 %. But as the days drew closer to daddio Turks arrival, she became more and more erratic. Then, after a meeting with her attorney, decided that she was going to blame me for the crime she comitted, and has been doing so ever since.
Thanks honey, You're the best x
 After initially agreeing to meet my father, who was not only coming to help me, but help her also (this was his daughter in law after all) the atmosphere changed. So instead, my father asked if he could come and collect my belongings (before they were burnt sold or made into some kind of Turkish Voodoo doll ) which was agreed on.
 My father lands on american soil, calls her up, she answers,
"Hello m**** this is timothys father ozer, how are you?"
 She puts phone down. thanks again x. My father had not flown from his home town, to Istanbul, to London then to New York to be treated with such little respect. Seriously.
 Being the wiley Turk that he is, Big Noseio managed to track down her fathers telephone number. They speak, and agree on meeting for Coffee. I am relieved to know that her father is actually behind me, is extremely ashamed of his daughters behaviour, and his literal words are 'if it was up to me, she'd be in jail'. Gwarn!
They organise a day and time, and i get my posessions back. It's something i guess, knowing i have my clothes waiting for me whenever i am finally released from this shithole..But in the grand scheme of things, it's just clothes. Yes there are a few bitching Mortal Kombat tshirts and the like, but at this point i would travel from New York to London naked, painted pink with a dildo glued to my forehead. Real talk.
 Half the reason dad comes here, is to see me. He's my father, he loves me more than the world, and he needs to make sure his boy is ok. To do this, we needed to get him approved for a visit.
I send my fat cock sucker of an attorney the visitors form, which he must have recieved in the mail...but probably mistook it for toilet paper, wiped his shitty ass on it, then smeared it on a bagle. But never the less, the visit was never approved. My dad flew all the way to New York, just to pick up his sons belongins from his soon to be ex wife, and didn't even get the chance to see me.
 This was very upsetting, but it happened for a reason. I love my father more than the world, and i know that he did all he could. I can imagine how he felt knowing his son was in jail, and there was nothing he could do to get me out. But i understand, and i want him to know that i appreciated everything that he did, and he did more than he needed. He did his best. and that's all i wanted.
 At the vest least, from my cell window opposite Pearl Street, i got a glimspe of my father. Standing in the street, he always stands out in a crowd. People will be bustling away, and my father just jams. Walks at his own pace, no hurry, the word is waiting for him. And so it should. From his Gangster limp, to his fresh threads (seriously, pops flosses the dome), he is as fly as ever, and i'm always proud to be his son. My pops :) xx

daily routines and bullshit

Federal Jail is fucking boring. Seriously, excruciatingly mindnumbingly boring. Which leads to the most stupidly moronic conversations..I just spent the last hour listening to two guys arguing whether a rat could climb out of your was convinced that rats are basically squirells, and can jump 6 foot in the air, the other claimed he used to be a plumber, and that a rat couldn't climb out the toilet because of the U bend or something..riveting stuff
 Being in here is extremely similar to being in High school. You have different cliques, nerds, bullies, outcasts, weirdos, perverts and so on...Just like the all boys high school i went to, as there are no girls here, people are acting crazy and doing the stupidest shit imaginable, just for jokes.
 Our timetable..
Every morning, at around the 6 o clock hour, you get woken up for breakfast (or 'CHOW'). This usually consists of something really fucking dry like shitty cereal, and a piece of cake that has had the flavour industrially sucked out of it. After a few hours, at around 10am, you are locked in the cell for the 10 o clock count (to make sure no one is trying to escape) and then let out around 1130 for lunch. After lunch, you are free to doss around all day up until about 330, when you ass gets locked up again..come around 5ish, it's dinner time...more hours and hours to waste until 830, locked back up, then let out at 930 for around an hour, to call loved ones and what not, then they lock you up again. Repeat that every fucking day and you have an idea of what my life mostly consists of at the moment. It's fascinating stuff right?
 Most meals taste like fucking dogshit. I wouldn't be suprised if i found a pube or a piece of albanian sheep dogs dick contained in these amazing gourmet sick bags they call chow. You have the rare day when we are given something half edible, like a donkey dick in a bun, but most days it's what you would imagine the food to be like in the midnight express jail..apart from there isn't any raki to knock it back, or hash.
Once or twice a week, it's Chicken day :D This day is like christmas for the inmates in here, apart from there are no gifts given out, only crappy pieces of 'fried chicken'. But to the inmates of MCC, they act like this chicken has been marinated in crack..To say these brares are catting for this shit is an understatement..So much so...
 When it's chicken day, this place get's locked the fuck DOWN. They lock everyone in their cells when serving the chicken out, in fear of some major fuckries going down. An somewhere along the way, it usually does..someone gets robbed, someone gets slapped up for their chicken, always something stupid.
 For the first two months, i didn't eat my chicken...i sold it. For a lot of goods, people were paying through the nose for this shit, no jokes. But i got tired of all these chicken addicts coming up to me, EVERY SINGLE DAY,
"Hey english, can i buy your chicken next week?"
"Hey cracker, gimme your chicken next week"
fuck you
 So i started eating the chicken myself, just to get mans to back the fuck off...and it tasted like albanian sheep dogs dick with woucester sauce
The only thing that actually breaks the week apart, is you get mail Monday to Friday.
Before coming in here, i hadn't written a letter in fucking YEARS..My hand writing was beyond retarded, it looked like steven hawkins trying to bust a handstyle with a broken wrist. Coming in here, i see things differently. Emails are nice, it's cool to instantly comunicate with someone on the other side of the planet, but it's very unpersonal. Writing and recieving letters, is one of the most important things that keeps me going in here. To get a letter from someone, that is hand written, means so much more than ten bzillion emails. You know that person has sat down and taken the time out of their day to write to you, you can almost imagine them writing it. If anyone would like to write to me, i would more than appreciate it, whether i know you or not. Just make sure there is a return, sketches, reminds me that there is a world of people out there, and i'm not alone in all this..Which is very easy to forget, especially everytime i read my paperwork and see
"Timothy G******* vs The United States of America"..fat mugs.
Holla at me

Friday, 10 December 2010

Eric Manson

Despite all of my cellmates annoyances, and almost knocking him into next tuesday, i was a little bit apprehensive about sharing a cell with a 6ft tall 260 pound individual, who is known as 'criminal shy'. He looks like, in his own words, Denzel Washington on steroids, who is 260 pounds but 40 pounds of it 'is dick'.
 I ask around to get an idea of what this guy is like, and no one has a bad word to say about him.
 So i agree, my old cellmate gets his shit the fuck out in a flash, and Sha (pronounced shy) moves in. Then i am told he is a notorious bank robber, who has appeared on Americas Most Wanted on numerous occasions in the last 20 years..i'm now in Prangville tennesse.

 So, he moves in, no problemo. We get along suprisingly well, he informs me that when he asked around about what kind of person i was, he was greeted with the information "Timdog is the cracker with tattoos, but he's a real N****r". Charming!
 As my English bredders will know, in our neck of the woods, that word is not used often, at all. Even by black people. Here, it is used every other word, and i am reffered to by this term more than my name. Which after 3 months, i'm still not used to.
Sha overhears someone making jokes about my ex wife turning out to be a regal bitch, and replies with
 At this point of my incarceration, i was still in a state of shock and serious deppresion, and at this point, you could see it just by looking at me. My hair and beard was CRAZY long, i looked dishevled, like teen wolf's dad. On top of this, i wasn't keeping my cell in the best of conditions.
 Sha is a very clean dude. He's been in and out of the prison system for a long time. He knows the deal, and would point things out to me that i didn't know, or that i had forgotten, and inform me of certain prison rules of hygiene and conduct.
 One day my uncleanliness got too much, and Shy decided to let me know..
When this day came, i had court. I woke up at six, got breakfast, then headed back to the cell. When it was time to go, i left my dirty bowl on the table and noticed i had split some crumbs from the cake on the floor..didn't think much of it, and just assumed i'd clean it when i get back.
 I get back, my bowl is in the rubbish bin, and the atmosphere is cold as FUCK. Sha enters, and slams the door.
   "Cellie, we gotta talk.."
Our talk goes on for perhaps an hour. It is very productive, insightful, interesting, helpful and also terrifying at the same time. Sha tells me that he is very fond of me, that i am a good kid and i obviously don't belong in the prison system (no shit). But, if he didn't think so fondly, i would've come back to find all my belongings thrown into the hall, and a beating i wouldn't forget..When that's coming from someone who looks like he could crush a coconut with his bare hands, you listen..
Thanks for the heads up!
 I am taught a valuable lesson, that in prison, you need to be on point all the time and think about what you are doing. He points out that walking around feeling sorry for myself, behaving like a 60yr old that has been given a life sentance, will lead to problems with other inmates.
For example..
 Sha explains that i can't sleep most of the day away, not just because it's unhealthy, but because what would happen if i had a problem with someone, a problem i didn't know about, and they decided to stab me while i was asleep?
Point taken.
 So..apologies made, we bury the hatchet over some tea and a bean pie. How civilised! But i am extremely grateful to Shy for the tips and advice he has given me, as they help me to start thinking more intellectually, instead of emotionally. In the coming weeks i start to change from the unfit, quiet, depressed, shaggy haired 'cracker' the confident, six pack sportingm gangster limping Timdog/Timmy Magic/T-dizzle/T-dizzly/Dat N****r T-murder/T-money/Afrika Timbata and so on..
 As i'm writing this, i glimpse out the window and make eye contact with someone who is in here for distributing 20 keys of coccaine, and has two bodies on the street (murders). He gives me the thumbs up.
 Could my life possible be more fucking random?
 The teenwolf look is gone..i pay a fellow inmate two packs of tuna to cut my hair. With surgeon like precission, Mikey sculpts my hair into a work of art..Hands down, the best haircut i've ever had. EVER. How did he do it?
 As one might probably guess, you are not allowed scissors in jail. So how did he do it?
This guy cut my hair using the blade from a disposable razor, snapped off, and celetaped to a comb. That's it. Seriously.
 For now, i'll leave you with a few golden quotes and pieces of information from my Cellmate Sha..
"Dude, you start working out, you'll turn that fat into dick in no time"
"Yo cellie, it's hot as bull balls in here, why you got all these lights on? You tryin'a get a tan up in this motherfucker?"
When hearing about me not wanting to be deported
"man, shit, right now i'd rather be in the jungle eating bugs and snakes an shit"
"You stay in the bozo section, you come in the real n****r section, you gonna get hurt"
"who's miss Anderson?"
"kid, the biggest chocolate booty up in this motherfucker"
"she fine?"
"She ain't nothin to rizal hizome abizle, you feel me?"
"If there's a motherfucker that's robbed more than me, id like to meet him"

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

moving in

In jail, there is not a lot to do. Especially in a pre-trial facility. This leads to many stupid situations, pointless conversations, and general fuckries.
 Me an S spend a whole evening talking about different types of meat. He tells me about water rats they have in Germany that are as big as cats, but explains that if you spice it properly, it's supposed to be banging. We talk about things to do when we get out, he says he'll definitely come see me in England, as America is whack. preach. Someone brings up the subject of horse meat. S tells me that he knows people that work at an abatouir, and that for 500 dollars they'd kill a horse for you and chop it up, if you supplied the horse. I don't think horse meat would taste very nice, he think it does, and spends about a good two hours talking about if you put it in a 'smoker' and smoke it for a few hours, it would taste the shit! The whole time we're talking he's making horse noises extremely loudly, and talking how you would imagine a horse would talk.
 Visitors day comes around. Something goes down.
Everyone is having fun getting ready to see their visitors (apart from me) and then we hear 'LOCK IT DOWN LOCK IT DOWN'..
 The guards come through, and start throwing people out their cells and all their shit out into the main halls. A lot of people are thrown into the SHU, apparently for smuggling in cigarettes, weed and coke. Fair play.
 Ox's room is freed up. Him and S are 'spades' partners. Spades is a game that everyone plays in prison, and takes way way way too seriously. As they are partners, he moves in with Ox.
 I now have my own Manhatton based Batchelors pad! But not for long..
"Guvercin, you got a legal visit"
So off i go to see tubs lardy, my flatulant breathed attorney. This mostly consists of him not listening to a word i have to say, him telling me lie after lie that i have to point out for him are not true, and generally him just trying to scare the shit out of me in an attempt to get me to 'break'. When i come back at him with questions and answers to a lot of the bullshit he spouts at of his mouth, not unlike a diarria sprinkler, he does his houdini impression and tells me he has to go to court and jets, and proceeds to roll out the conference room like that fat kid from Hook.
 After a lovely strip search and a few trips through a metal detector, i am sent back to the unit.
"yo Timmy Magic, you seen your new cellie? He looks CRAZY Timdog!"
They lied. I get back to my cell, and see my new bunkie. He's young, around my age by the looks of it, kind of cracked out looking, and is sporting the same bewildered look on his bonce that i sported upon my arrival.
 Everything that was done for me, i now share with him. I explain how things work, give him some advice, and try to help him to relax and fit into his new surroundings. I was given some food and toiletries by my fellow inmates upon arrival, and i also return the favour and give this guy a few things to help.
 At first, we get along.
It's nice for me to speak to someone my own age, and is kind of in a similar situation, of sorts.
Everyone i have shared a cell with upto this point, i have got on with, and had no problems. As long as you act like a man, are respectful, it's hard not to get along with people in here.
 We get talking..I explain to him how i am in the process of seperating from my 'wife', and that although she was anything but good for me, it's very upsetting. When i said my marriage vows, i meant them. I had faith that i would be sharing my life and adventures with this person, growing old together, the whole shbang! Instead of all this, i've been served a shit sandwhich with diarria sprinkles. My darling wife had decided that blaming me for the crime she comitted and turning her back on our marriage and my family, was easier than taking responsiblity for her actions and standing by her husband. Safe.
 After hearing about my predicament, i am met with "yeah i know how you feel man, i'm in a similar situation". Yeah?
The guy then explains that he met a girl four days prior to his arrest, fucked her, and isn't sure if he likes her or not..
I understand everyone has their own problems, but i somehow don't feel compassion for this individual.
 And that's how it started. Day by day, this guy was gradually getting on my nerves more and more.
*I had a big pot of sugar in my cell, and told him we can both use it. Sugar is free, and you get it in the mornings for breakfast. Once the pot was empty, through mostly his continued use, he would get sugar, and simply hide it in his locker. Or lie and say he has no sugar, or was 'saving it'.
At this point, i was having trouble getting money for 'comissary', for food, clothes, general shit that makes your life a little easier, and gives you a bit of your humanity back. The day before we put our orders in, he has no money. So, i kindly send an email to a freind, and get them to call his mother and get her to put some money on his account for him. "thanks T, i'll hook you up don't worry". Isit.
 He orders a fucking shitload of stuff. More in one time than i had ordered in two months. Yet when it all comes, there is always an excuse for him not to share or give me anything. Fucking weak, considering if it wasn't for me he would have nothing.
My best freind sends me a nice graffiti book, one of those black book ones full of famous heads..There are a few wanabee writers in here (Every person you speak to all claims they used to paint with Seen and co 'back in da day') and i tell J not to let anyone borrow the book, or show it to anyone without me being there in the cell.
 The next day, i observe this mongloid take someone, to the cell, to go through MY fucking book. Enough.
I ask the other guy to leave the cell. I explain, extremely fucking angrily, that he is in jail and needs to think about what the fuck he is doing, and if it happens again, there will be no warning. He just looks at me like a little kid thats just been told off, and ignores me for two days, sulking, before apologising.
Two days later, i wake to the sound of him pissing. Nothing out the ordinary. But then i realise he is missing the toilet and pissing on the floor. "you're pissing on the floor". He realises his extreme lack of aiming skills, and cleans up. Hours later, i get up. "THERE IS STILL PISS ON THE FLOOR, CLEAN IT UP". He mumbles that he will, and i leave the cell before i strangle this mother fucker in his bed. The hours later, still there is piss on the floor. I go in the cell and turn the light into a strobe.
"GET THE FUCK UP AND CLEAN THIS PISS UP!" Sheepishly, he gets up and starts cleaning and then goes back to bed. Hours later, i'm lying in bed, drimking some hot tea. I have put the paper sugar packets in the toilet. Enter the moron.
"Why you put them in the toilet, that's disgusting"
He mumbles something, all i catch is the word faggot. Off goes my mug of tea on a journey, destination, his face. He runs out the room.
 Later on i am confronted by three angry looking spanish dude. But in seconds, i hear
"don't worry kid" and i notice that i have been joined by four bigger, angrier, black guys! I explain what happened, and while that pussy hides on another tier, we agree that he should move..I am greeted by my new cellmate Shy..


My new cell mate S, is an interesting character.
He;s always on point, knows exactly what the fuck he's talking about, but his eyes are usually half closed and gives the impression that he is heavily sedated.
 Which he is. The man takes more pills than Ebeneezergood on a drum n bass night at Fabric.
As i am EXTREMELY bored, having taken no drugs or alcohol in around two months, i enquire how you get these
little stress relievers..S breaks it down for me.
"Man, they want you to take them. Why not?"
 why not indeed!
First off i try some of S. Fuck knows what it is that he's given me, most people get given one or two pills. He gets about six, each one looking double the size of the normal shit. The effect it has on me is pretty minor, and just makes me feel sleepy.
 If i had paid for this, i got bumped.
At this point of my incarceration, i was not doing so well mentally. I was suffering from serious anxiety, constantly worrying about my case, purely dwelling on the obvious=i am in a fucking federal prison in New York, and was slowly coming to the realisation that i had married THAT annoying broad from the Warriors. You know the one i mean.
 To put it very bluntly, i was looking for some relief/to get high.
Ok, now how do i get prescribed 'da good shit'..
"Timdog, they don't know your medical history, you are English, they will believe anything you say dude"
 Which is true, everyone believes an english accent (apart from the secret service :D )
 S recommends Remron. I think this is an antu-depressant, i never actually found out. If i am wrong, please correct me!
So i go to the psych/doctor. The accent is flowing, and she's buying all the blams up like its sale of the fucking century at blams r us. I tell her my Doctor, a Mr James Bond, who works on breeze lane, just off bullshit avenue, prescribed me Remron in England.
 "That's great news, we actually have Remron in the states" she replies. No shit :D
Two hours later, i'm off to go pickup. A nurse comes into the unit to give out the meds, and more often than not, gets bumrushed by inmates as soon as she opens the door. These guys are beyond Catting. I get my pill, pop it, then go off on my merry way to my cell.
 It didn't work out for the best. I'd never taken an anti-depressant before, nevermind an extremely high dosed one.
I wasn't aware that when you come down, you feel a bzillion times worse than before you took it. When on it, you turn into a complete fucking idiot. You sit there, emotionless, staring at walls. You might be surrounded by people/freinds/inmates/murderers who are talking about something interesting, but instead of joining in with some witty banter, you just sit there and think about what you could say, and then don't say it. You just sit there like a mong.
 Now...the comedown. Fuck me. It was horrendous! It just intensified all the negative emotions i was feeling. Despair, depression, it all increased tenfold. It got so bad at one point i had convinced myself that my adventure in life had cum to a sticky end (urgh!) and i only had one option left at my disposal. I actually got as far as planning how, when and where i would do it. It was extremely selfish of me to even entertain such waste cadet moves, but at the time i felt extremely alone and that i had been forgotten inside this concrete tomb, so far away from my loved ones.
 I decided to stop taking the 'medication' and start dealing with my problems like the strong young Turk my parents raised me to be.
 Quickly, common sense and logic came flooding back.
Plus, if i would've actually gone through with it and failed (all i had to accomplish this was a few shitty disposable razors and a few pain killers) i would've ended up bare butt naked in a padded cell, in a straight jacket. And how am i going to jerk off in a straight jacket?
 I still needed to take SOMEthing though, as i had many obstacles in my way stopping me from getting any sleep.
S snores. FUCKING LOUDLY. An that's just normally, sober. After taking his medication, he is completely sparked out and ten times worse.
 If that wasn't bad enough, S doesn't eat meat. He mostly consumes many many boiled eggs, cheese and cabbage.
The most DISGUSTING farts i have ever smelt in my entire life, bar none. NOTHING compares to this smell. It smells like someone shat in his ass, then he farted it out. One after the other, non stop, completely hotboxing out the whole cell, turning the room into some kind of morbid fart pallace.
 Its so bad, i don't know whether he's farting or snoring. The only way for me to breath is to be in the fetal position, under the cover, with my face pressed against the wall, holding my nose, in an attempt to trick myself into thinking that there is air in the room, instead of the reality that i'm just breathing in pure shit vapour.
 SO. I go back to the doc an get trazadome. Much better! Knocked out in less than half an hour, and gives you the most crazy vivid dreams. It means, for a small part of my day, i am free. I've probably linked up with you in my dreams. But i always get brought straight back to reality in the morning, when my eyes open, i see the bars on the window, and remember thanks to my big turkish nose that i am back in the fart factory. Great.

Monday, 6 December 2010

time to move...

I was depressed. Seriously. I was eating about half a meal a day, talking to no one, and all my mind was doing was dwelling on all the things i had lost, bad decisions i had made, and general bateness that was out of my control.
 I was spending most of my day suitting in my cell, in the dark, feeling sorry for myself, thinking no one in the world gave a shit about me or my current situation..I needed a slap. Like in the Godfather in the beginning,
 'eh was da matter wit you, get a hold o yourself SLAP'
No time for mug moves, i have a hench 'made man' from a prominent mobster family telling me he's moving in to me cell, and i'm moving out. Ok boss, no problemo!
 I'm told to move opposite, with a Mr S.
S is an interesting looking character, if not a little crazy. He's big, in his mid thirties, black, with long hair that he's slicked back. He also sports a very long beard, and constantly looks heavily sedated. He has been here for a while, and helps explain the federal 'justice' system, and how these pieces of shit operate and what it all actually means.
 Terror Tactics.
From the moment of my arrest, i was lied to. They tried to keep me in a constant state of panic, fear and despair in an attempt to break me. They will not only lie to you about what you are facing, but get your 'attorney' to play along in their fucking weak little bum chum games.
 If you can't afford an attorney, and most people can't as they cost from twenty five thousand dollars and up, you are assigned a 'public defender'. I wasn't, as it was a holiday on the day i was arrested, so i was given bozo the clown who just happened to be the only attorney in the building. You initially think they are here to fight for you. Granted, some do. Most i'm affraid do not. They are paid by the government, so will do what is in the best interest of the government, not you.
 The fact pig they have assigned me is a dishonest, incompetant, piece of shit who clearly has his tongue firmly embedded up the prosectuors asshole. Instead of helping me, listening to me, actually believing what his CLIENT is telling him, he has lied to me since my arrest, and as i'm writing this, a letter will shortly be arriving on my judges desk firing his ass. fat cunt.
 Anyhow! I am somewhat at ease, knowing i am not doomed and looking at a billion years in jail..I just need to find some way to help me relax and get some decent sleep..