Sunday, 27 February 2011

No senior Quade, Mars el global meltdowno!

 We have a few tv's dotted around 'the floor',
each usually transmitting some kind of brain-numbingly boring, visual slop,
designed to keep your IQ on the same level as a sperm.
 I've probably watched less than half hour of tv in the last five months i've
been in pergatory, and that was only to see Quade turn on the reactor..In Spanish..

 Today we have 'LOCKDOWN=predators behind bars',
a show all about a maximum security federal penitentuary..somewhere
you go if you have a shitload of time, or are a violent offender..
 I don't fall into either of those categories, so i should be going to a low..

 But for some reason, i feel i should watch this show..

After about five minutes, my freind B comes over to me..He's a 'killer an gorrila'..BIGTIME...
"That's were you're going Timmyboy, me and you..we'll be fighting all those punk ass n****rs!"
"This is just the weapon room n****r, wait til you get to that penitentuary Mickey!"
 Everyone finds what he's saying extremely amusing, especially as it's clearly pranging me the fuck out..
"i KNOW this motherfucker is going to be joining the 'Aryan Nation'! You know what i'm'a do? Im'a tell
em how in MCC you was down with all the n****rs an sp***s Timmyboy!"
 My dude S butts in..
"Timmy don't give a fuck, he's gonna be rollin' with a knife this long (holds hands out to around 2 feet long),
boy's gonna need it too"
:( ! ! !

 On that note, i take my leave to me tier..cup of coffee, some sketches and a quick scraping
of shit matter from my freshly soiled loins, and i'm good money..
 I'm sitting outside my cell drinking my coffee, when another English (S) guy comes an sits next to me,
followed by my Spanish freind J, who points at me and says
"You, you's a real good (pointing at S) no good!"
S tells him to fuck off, an J replies, pointing at me again..
"You, number one! You (S), number seven!"
 I laugh, an J takes it upon himself to dance his way out of the tier..but not
before S shouts at the top of his lungs..

an dont call me shirley

 Someone gave me some amusing advice today..

 He told me that i should think of my time in this facility like i am on a plane.
I didn't understand at first, so over a cup of tea he explained what he meant..

 "When you are on the plane,
chances are you are eventually going to get to your destination.
Ok, you might crash, the plane could explode, but fuck it! You are already
on the plane now! It's taken off, you might as well enjoy the ride and relax,
otherwise it will feel like a much longer flight.."

 Nice :)


 Being of English and Turkish descent has its good and bad points.
Mostly good points, I'm a meditaranian man, and proud of it.
 But being blessed with all things meditaranian, also means
i'm a hairy guy..It's all part of being a man, but there are
some places that need to be..Regulated

 When on road,
i kept myself trimmed. You have to.
 As much as your lady wants to make her man happs,
no self respecting woman wants a mouthful of tropical pubic hair. Fact.
 It's just common courtesy for a Turkish man like myself to keep shit at bay,
with from time to time, a little manscaping.

 Upon arrival at my own personal MOTHER FUCKING PERGATORY,
having most things violently snatched from me, i view a lot of everyday items
as luxuries...scissors being one of them..

 Obviously there is no female company in here...other than the occasional 3/10 guard,
which i'm STILL working on :D
 With the lack of female company, and the realisation that bar getting jerked off while
on a visit (which is common practice, fascilitated by a crudely wripped hole in ones jumpsuit),
i ain't getting any for a while, my focus definitely strayed from my appearance, for a hot minute..

 I grew a fucking HENCH beard, stopped eating, and was slowly turning into a wreck of a man..
Timothy Guvercin was becoming ever more distant by the day..

 Through the love and support of my family and a few freinds, and my cellie, i started to fix up.
After getting my hair cut, mans was working out, daily.
 It payed off, I got into the best shape i've been in since i was a teenager..
One day after a shitload of pushups, i'm just about to have a shower and i hear
"GAD DAMN! Dog you're puttin' the work in, but you look like a fucking caveman!"
He was right..

 Months in federal prison with no scissors had left me looking like a neanderthal,
and something had to be done..
 With nothing else at my disposal, i had no other choice..
I shaved under my armpits..
..Possibly THE least macho thing i have ever done in my life..
and now has turned into a weekly nesecity..if anyone has any tips for shaving rash,
please let me know!!!

 As for the Other over grown hair on my body, that's a different story altogether..
 Firstly, i thought i could just boy it off..let's be realistic, my sujuk
is taking a rest from the spotlight for now, on a reclusive ain't getting any imediate attention
apart from Madame Palm and her five daughters.
 So who cares if things get a little Conan for now right?

 It's hard to be admire/be proud of your new Jean Claude van Damage physique when confronted
by a tropical jungle of pubes below..It ain't the look.
 So it was time for Timmyboy to get there is no fucking way
that i am shaving my cock and balls. Not happening. Fuck that.

Man's took a disposable razor, snapped off the plastic guarding around the blade..turning it into a
VERY VERY sharp handheld razor..With a little careful wrapping of toilet tissue and celetape that i'd
saved off the packaging from a graff book someone sent me (safe Josh!), it was safe enough to be
allowed near my Johnson..
 After a couple minutes of hacking away at this tropical Forest that had crept into my prison pants,
my stir crazy penis is now sporting a very handsome new haircut, just like this :D

deep cover

The weather at the moment is cold. Fucking Cold.
 Up until recently, my cell was nice and toast..thanks
to morbid flatulence, and the heat coming in from the vent..
 No more.
Well, sadly, the flatulence is still in full effect..but the heating has stopped.

 Common knowledge, it's wise to get out of bed early in the morning in here,
but when you don't own a sweatshirt or multiple layers of clothing, your bed
is the warmest thing you've got!
 Once up and about, you warm up pretty quickly..But the first inital step
out of bed in the morning is a motherfucker!! Trust!

 In a typically turkish/English fashion, i have been relying on multiple cups
of tea to keep me warm..everytime my cup is almost, mans reloads the shit quick fast..
 My toes are so cold, i've had to wrap them in three pairs of socks as standard..

 On one of my trips to the microwave to warm up my chai, i overhear someone complaing
that 'all the youngsters have no respect for the microwave' and that 'they leave it looking
like someone exploded a colostomy bag inside' Which i find highly amusing :D
..But then out of nowhere, this new, elderly southern gentleman joins in on the conversation..
"When i was in Louisiana, someone put a turtle in the microwave"
..Everyone pauses..
"Yeh, it was a live turtle..some jokester found it in the yard and put it in the microwave,
blew the whole microwave up..but that turtle meat sure did taste good! he he..i used to
catch them and cook them.."
 A lot of people are in here for pyshiatric evaluation..I'm guessing he's one of them...

 Nightfalls..the coldest part of my waking life in the jail..
The few elite members of the jail are lucky enough to be keeping themselves warm
with dirty lungs..alas we ain't all that privelidged!
 I got my shorts, sweatpants, long sleeve tshirt, jumpsuit and beanie hat on..
..Plus i have my blanket wrapped around my neck like some neeeext rowdy scarf..
 My cellie is well versed in what to do in sub-zero jail conditions..
"N****r, i'm goin deep cover!"
 He ain't joking..
Man's is lying under four blankets, wearing two sweatshirts, smiling with a towel wrapped
around his head..farting consequtively..
 Shortly before going 'deep cover', i made us some tuna, jalapeno and mayonaise sandwhiches..
I usually don't eat jalapenos, but i thought it might warm me up a bit..
..Plus all the ingredients had none of my input in 'collecting', so who am i
to start getting picky?

 The peppers, however, seem to have had a negative effect
on my compardre..
"Motherfuckin jalapenos already starting to fly out my asshole kid"
"DAMN! Had to check..thought my cheeks were caked..i'm good though dog"
 Glad to hear!
I mean, no one wants to hear that their buddy has just shit their pants..he seems
very sure that he hasn't, to the point that he feels the need to explain, in minute detail,
why he knew he hadn't shat himself..
 The short version, he felt the fart leave his asshole, pass between his butt cheeks,
then stop at his how does he know for sure he hasn't fouled himself?
 "If you pull your butt cheeks apart, you can tell if you've shit your pants. I know all the tricks kid :D" he goes to sleep,
nice and warm, surrounded by a cloud of shit matter..I on the other hand am far too cold
to succumb to sleep so easily...

 I have taken to listening to hawain hula music, it makes me think of hot girls in grass skirts,
on the prevent this peaceful image from turning into masterbation material,
i'm reading a very interesting book by David Icke..
..It's all about how an inter-dimensional, shapeshifting, reptialian race has been controlling
the world for thousands of years, and still is. True story too :)

 A few hours pass..I'm beginning to feel sleepy,
or at least acknowledge that i SHOULD be asleep by now..Despite the best
efforts of David Icke to keep me awake, it's time to climb onto my cold,
lonely, uncomfortable rock hard matt/'bed' and get some rest..after all,
tomorrow i have another day of being in jail to look forward to :(
..Out of the corner of my eye, i spot something..
 Cheeky little bastard!! Right in front of me, bold as brass,
i clock this little, big balled mouse! As soon as he knows that i know that he knows,
he scarpers behind my cellies bed...

 Fuck. FUCK.
Two choices. Either i wake up, and tell my cellie..which means all hell will  break loose,
an the next few hours will be spent re-enacting a tom n jerry cartoon..ultimately leading
to an extremely gruesome death for topo gigio..

 Or i pretend i saw nothing, follow the G code, brush my teeth and attempt to fart myself to sleep..

What would you have done?

Hes hip

Everybody in here thinks they have bars.
They don't. They can't spit, their 'bars' are fucking lame, they try to rhyme 'shit' with 'shit',not in a cool grime way, in a i'm too stupid to think of anything that can rhyme way..Each day that goes past when i hear someone disrespecting my ears with their jacobs crackers lyrics, i'm getting closer and closer to just busting some D Double bars just for the sake of it..

 Some people are jokes though. They know they can't actually spit, but do so purely for the fuckie, u get me..
One of these Bozerinos comes upto me yesterday while i'm waiting to access the dusty fartbox they call a computer..
I'm unimpressed. Most people's attempts at English accents sound like a cross between Australian and someone who is
mid way through having a stroke..
Still unimpressed.
 "we don't use euros mate."
This leaves him in a state of confusion, despite me explaining that we use pounds not euros, and you can't use dollars
in England, i end up having to abandon the subject before this guy has a hernia from thinking too much with his prostate-like brain..a couple minutes later, he runs upto me with his radio on..
"Yo..Yo...check this out"
..and proceeds to spit bar to bar every word of the song below..i was impressed! But after a while it kind of got embaressing as a big crowd formed around us, and then whenever the scratching parts came in he would pretend to scratch using my all fairness, dude wasn't too bad!

 It gets later in the evening, and i go chill with some of the card playing motherfuckers..
I don't usually play, i just sit there to catch jokes and observe what is happening on the find out about
things that are going down, and just general stupid fuckries..
 People usually look at me as someone to confirm 'facts' about people who are sitting at the card table..things along the lines of "What is he Timmyboy? Tell him. TELL HIM!" but i never tell them. I'm not calling anyone a 'bum ass n*****r'. If i did i can just imagine an alarm going off, and me getting smacked until i exploded like a human pinada..
 Another example is when people are playing casino, this happens the most..someone, usually someone fucking HENCH, will start screaming at me..only me..
i sheepishly reply...
"a 9?"
Then slams the 9 down on the table so hard the ground shakes...
 I know how to act though. I'm learning.
I get there and someone asks me if i have any granola bars..i do, but i know that me and my cellie are gonna rinse them down in the next few days, so i kindly decline, using the monicker "nah man this is my last one"
..the guy i say this to is huge...and looks like not only does he not believe me, but he's extremely disapointed in me for lying about it..
 I feel bad.
"Lemme go and check :D "
I go and get him one. He doesn't say thankyou. In fact, he swipes it out of my hand with great velocity..
 My cellie and his partners are playing poker at the opposite table, one of them cells over
"Yo timmy, be careful over there with them dirty no good n****rs"

 The Granola guy replies

 Sha turns around with a big smile on his face..
"He's learning..Turkish n****rs gettin' hip to ALL that shit"

Monday, 21 February 2011


The cell is cold tonight. It ain't usually.
Whenever anyone pops into the cell to say hello or borrow
some coffee, they usually bark things along the lines of
"Man, it's nice up in this bitch!"
 Which is usually replied to with a swift
"Don't get comfy n****r"
 For real though,
Most peoples cells are mad cold, and give give off a vibe
that you're in some kind of next grimey Russian jail, purely
cold and depressing!
 It might sounds ludicrously retarded,
but our cell is pretty inviting!
 We keep it mad clean, got some Peruvian chiropractor dude to
put up some shelves an shit, and it's usually pretty warm..Plus due
to the vomit inducing aromas that waft out of the inhabitants assholes,
out of nessecity, mans has had to invest in an air freshner! They don't sell
air freshners though, it's a nasal spray that has had the vicks shit poured out,
and a mix of water and 'muslim oil' put in smells like a fucking meadow!
 It gets RINSED..leaving the 'toilet' that we are forced to dwell in smelling
rather spiffing :D
 For whatever reason, tonight it's pretty chilly up in here...
Coffee and a long sleeve thermal tshirt are keeping the chills at bay for now,
and i'm rocking my (huge) beanie hat for extra's massive,
and people say i look like 'an English cat burglar' when i rock it..I tell them
to keep their fucking voices down as the walls have ears, and i have
enough charges as it is :(
 Earlier tonight i had a fucking DEEEP meal..
No, it wasn't the usual jailhouse toilet made slop they give us, i
wouldn't feed that shit to a dead dog..
 One of my cellies freinds put me in their 'whip'..That means you are
eating with them! It was spicy tuna with rice, vegetables and macaroni n cheese!
 Collecting it was rather amusing..the look on most of the other inmates faces..
I mean, this young kid from London..who has somehow managed to get safe with
all the scariest, grimyest cats in the unit..AND they all have his back..AND on top
of that, he now has them cooking his meals :D
 As i'm writing this, its coming upto midnight..
It's a Tuesday, and my favorite radio set 'the night train' is on at
just past one, mans just gotta waste the next hour..which is very easy..i've been
spending more and more time staring out the window (it's more a glorified porthole) recently..

..There is a lamp post over the road from my cell window, and i find the light
from it captivating. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be that colour, or just turned that
way from years of use, but the lamp has a piercing golden glow about it..the trees
around it are bare of leaves and look like they have been lightly dusted with coccaine,
it's a very serene image to stare at..compared to the ugly, depressing visuals that are
forced upon my eyeballs inside this shithole..
 I imagine myself one day standing under this lamp,
Looking back up at this cell..breathing clean air, wearing my own clothes and trainers,
thanking god for giving me another chance at life, at my dream.
 I feel i deserve another chance.
I'm not a bad guy. Far from it. I just lost focus on my life,
and what i should be doing with it.
 Perhaps he will give me a break and through this 'turkish n****r" a
bone..i just have a lot more praying to do i guess..
Here's hoping.

Saturday, 19 February 2011

You know he's crip right

I arise from my slumber.
The last thing i recall doing is being in a super swanky hotel room,
sucking on Lindsay Lohans nipples..But she is nowhere to be seen,
and the hotel suite i was making extremely good use of now doesn't
seem so swish as ten minutes ago..
 Seen. Back to reality.

 Nevermind, time to get up..

 I hear shouting, cursing, and the familiar line
"all you n****rs is BUMS" screamed from outside the cell..
 It can only be the sophisticated genlteman at the neighbourhood card table!

 "Yo timmyboy, while you was in dreamland, i been skunkin this n****r all
mother fuckin' mornin"

 I can't help laughing all the time in here, if i didn't laugh i'd probably be
hanging from a noose, so i'm lucky that in MCC it's joketime 24/7..

"That's all you do Timmyboy, always laughin..all i ever hear from you is
'woo-woo-woo' an 'kee-kee-kee'"

..This just makes me laugh even more..

"Look at this fuckin' Turkish n****r, always 'woo-woo-woo'in', bet you
ain't gonna be laughin when they send you to that compound with
all the scary n****rs!"

I stop laughing.

"Especially when they find out Timmy's a crip! Look at his hand!"
..The whole unit goes silent..

"Show them your fingers :D "

..For many years now, i've been hitting up my crew B6K. It initially was a collective of kids
putting on punk and hardcore shows in and around London and Guildford, back in England in
the early 2000's..There's a few people around the world hitting it up in one shape or form..
 Anyway, i took it upon myself to get each letter tattood on the side of my fingers, midway
through 2010..Perhaps it wasn't the smartest of choices, but it looked good, and at the time
i was high on drugs, blowjobs, and generally didn't have my best thinking cap on for the majority
of the year..Hence now writing a blog from prison! :D

 Since coming into jail, someone informed me that most of the gang members that are
in here are 'Bloods'.
 Didn't think anything of it..Until one of my freinds saw my B6K tattoo, and explained to me
that BK stands for BLOOD KILLER, a Crip gang, and a 6 is the Crips sign.

 I spend the next twenty minutes,
that feels like two hours, explaining to around fifteen hench dudes, many that are
Bloods, that i had no idea about the Crips, what B6K meant, and was not a member
of any kind of Crips chapter..A tense silence follows..

..Everyone starts laughing!
"We's only fuckin with you timmyboy, if we thought you was Crip,
my man (points at large violent looking individual) would've hit
you in the face with a banger, straight up"
 A banger is a knife.

"Yo, Timmboy's a straight Blood, look, he got a red beard an everything!"
 People are falling around laughing at the super pranged out Englishman..While
everyone is laughing i take the opportunity to adjust my shorts, so the chocolate
pudding that was just delivered red hot into my pants doesn't spill out onto the floor..
"Yo, you know we gotta jump you in now Mickey blue eyes?"

Wednesday, 16 February 2011


My cell isn't too bad. Neither is my cellie.
There are a lot of people in here that are annoying cunts, bullies, tossers, morons, imbeciles,
and just generally the types of people you would expect in prison i guess..luckily i don't have to
share a cell with someone of that calibre. I get on extremely well with Sha, and he makes my stay at
MCC a little bit easier to cope with.
 For instance, I wake up on a Saturday morning to a completely fonged out room..It's a Saturday, so i
instantly turn the radio on to the reggae set on 89.9 (8am-12) and Sha passes me a nice
hot cup of :)
 My sleeping habits have been really bad recently..most nights i don't get to sleep til around three or four in the morning,
usually down to just talking and catching jokes into the early hours..There are too many things that happen in an average day in here that are extremely retarded, yet too funny..Plus i drink way too much coffee. Today i have had 3 very big cups, and my last cup is (stupidly) usually close to around the time we get locked in for the evening. At least it's something though, a comfort that i have in here to make things a little big more managable..
 After finally getting up, making my bed (you get in trouble if you don't. Wankers.) and pulling some clothes on, time
to take a stroll around the unit and survey my surroundings on this nice Saturday morning..I do a little tour of the tiers,
checking in on the people that i get along with and giving Gucci/screw faces to the ones that can suck my turkish balls..
 I go see what the older southern gentleman are doing..they always seem pleased to see me, and whenever i'm passing i get calls of 'Timmyboy! Come sit down bwoy!' which always makes me smile :)
 They tell me the same thing day in day out, that "you're a good kid Timmy, trust us you're going to be fine, everything is going to work itself out for you" which is nice..

 I'm back in my cell, lying down on my bunk, listening to some tunes (that i am sharing with you on this page) drinking the rest of my coffee..i make it real strong, then when it's halfway done, i bang a load of ice in it..
 I'm wondering what is happening in the rest of the world. What my freinds are doing, my family, everything. I can't help it.
 I don't want to be here.
I want to be outside in the sunlight, feeling the air in the breeze, not fart vapours in a confined jailcell. I want my life back.
to be able to go and do as i please with the short time i have been given on this earth..instead of sitting in this cramped fucking cell, a few feet away from the ceiling, staring through these bars at the human beings walking below me in
the street..Then again, the life i had previously has completely fallen apart, so what life would i be returning to upon my release? Marriage is done, Apartment is done, more than likely life in New York is done..
 At the moment, i feel anything but human, more like a caged animal..which leads to an interesting question..if you treat someone like an animal, take away all of their dignity, show them absolutely no respect, take away EVERYTHING that makes their life worth living for them..How do you expect them to react when they are released?
 Maybe i'm just over tired and talking bollocks..the coffee is starting to give me a serious headache..
 I find it a comfort when i am lying in bed, to rest my hand on the bars over the window and stretch my fingertips
so i can touch the's usually cold, and i can feel the air outside passing through the cracks in the glass..
 The day when i can be released to the streets, whether it is London or New York, i find extremely hard to
visualise right now..I get very upset just trying to imagine being free at this point, i've been here so long with
so little contact with the outside world and with my life completely changing since my arrest, it's evident that
things will never be the same as when i entered..but could that be a good thing? I mean, i was living a very unhealthy
lifestyle, surrounded by people that did anything BUT inspire me, and was just doing the same thing day in day out..
at the very least, for everything it has cost me, this situation quite possibly has (ironically) broadened my horizons
for the future..

 There is a part of me that is still attached to all i had..To my wife, despite her atrocious behavour..i'm only human, and when i promised to stand by her for the rest of my life, i meant it. Since then, she has shown that she didn't quite take it as seriously as she led me and others to believe..but for me, after making a promise like that to someone, it's not something i can just forget overnight and pretend like it didn't happen..That's a (bad) habit of mine, i will behave in a certain way (in this case not forgetting about my marriage/moving on) or thinking in certain patterns that cause me a lot of pain, but i feel like i need to go through this or behave this way even if its detrimental to me. Sounds stupid now i've written it down, but i guess it's a habit that i need to shake off in here..probably just me being a stubbon Turk, who knows..
  It has been five months now i've been here. That might not seem like much
to some people, but to me it feels like a fucking eternity..
..and i'm more than likely not even a quartre into my stay yet..

romantic evenings

It's a Friday night in New York City..
 The jail i am imprisoned in is suprisingly serene and calm..
Or maybe that's just me. I'm sitting alone in my cell, gazing out the window..for now, my only company
consists of a cup of coffee and my radio.
 I'm in the mood for some jazz, luckily my radio is in a good mood and has happily obliged, instead of doing it's
usual antics of blasting my ears with explosive diarrea in the form of shit hip hop in the vein of 'Nicki Minaj' and 'Lil Wayne'..
 Sha is working tonight..
The guard asked him and some other inmates to do some manual labour in nine south,
so i have the cell to myself for the evening..
My own little batchelor pad!
Right in the heart of Manhatton!
How lucky can one Englishman be right!?
 Sooo many endless possibilities of what i could do with my newfround privacy..
Well, there's only one possibility to be honest..and yes, you guessed it,
i shall be spending my evening jerking my turkish sujuk to one of Swizzys magazines :)
amazing stuff!
 If anyone feels like making a contribution to my current sex life, by the means of getting
me a subscription to Smooth or Dimepiece magazines, details below..i'll pay you back yeh..
Timothy Guvercin
MCC New York
150 park row
new york, ny

Monday, 14 February 2011


 I'd like to say a big thankyou to my old freinds Dent and Ares ICZ, just recieved
your letters and it made my day! I always appreciate getting mail, it really mans a lot,
Keep it Coming

Sunday, 13 February 2011


I've been recieving a few letters and emails recently.
Firstly and foremost, Thankyou.
 The most painful feeling i have had to endure in this debaucle has been isolation.
It started shortly after i was arrested.
 They took my phone.
As i had been smoking wayyy too much weed in the time leading upto my dramatic capture (i was hung over, in my boxer shorts with my dick hanging out), my brain was fried. I knew no telephone numbers off by heart,
my phone was my only way to contact the few people i knew in this city.
 No one knew i was in here. I had no way of letting my family know what had happened, which was a very daunting
prospect for this Englishman in federal prison..
 The few lames that i knew in New York, faced with the reality that i was no longer there in person
to entertain them/bring some kind of excitement to their existances, were flaking on me hard and fast..
 Individuals that once reffered to me with loving terms like 'brother', now had all kinds of whack ass excuses
for not filling out the visitors form, getting on a train, and coming to keep me company..
"I'm scared to come see you in jail"
 Motherfucker, how the FUCK do you think i feel!?!?
 I've always been a very trusting person. I try to see the best in people, and
give them the benefit of the doubt..I enjoy seeing the people around me happy.
 Until this recent hailstorm of diarhea hit me, 'people' had generally treated me well.
Because of this, i put my trust and faith in them..but i also have the tendency to expect
people to act how i would, and hold the same values as me..
 In my brain, i just (wrongly i might add) assumed that if i ever got into any trouble,
my wife and my freinds would help me.
  From my arrest,
i was in Big trouble. In little china..but i didn't have the Chan Sing or the Wing Kong,
or a six demon bag at my disposal..i had a handful of freinds who were showing me that
they were as genuine as my turkish aresmani jeans, and a 'wife' that was showing
her true colours..a cross between Heather Mills, and an incontinent Roland Rat..
 As the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, i felt like i had been thrown
to the lions by the one person i had put all my love, faith and trust into..
..The world we live in, and life in general, is full of suprises..
Although i had lost the support of one, since i started this blog and let the world know about
me, my predicament and what i am going through, i am gaining love and support from complete
strangers around the world..It recently has had me very emotional when i think about what has happened,
and what is happening day by day to me.
 Good people are out there, and are reaching out to me.
I feel asif i have been dropped by one, but picked up by many.
 I just want to say thankyou for every email, letter, book, anything people
have done to reach out to me.
 Each one made me smile, got me though my day, lifted my spirits and reminded me that despite
the bars on the windows, no visits and my current situation,
I am not alone.
Keep em Coming :)

Daily Grime

 Despite my clearly eutopian, picturesque surroundings are not quite up to
the five star, creme de la creme luxurious standards that were promised in the glamarous
brochure, that was slapped in my face upon my arrival..
 Far from it.
There is no pool..the booze is watered down..and the maid still hasn't turned up to clean our room.
 I feel i am being short changed.
..The management doesn't seem very enthusiastic about our complaints or suggestions regarding the service here..
 In the last few days, we have had no hot water.
If one feels like cleaning themself, and despite what the authorities might think, most people like to do this regularly (and by regularly i mean more than once a week!), you have a few minor obstacles in your way..
 The first, you need to get your rambo on and clear the shower/hosing down area of cockroaches.
Big ones. As big as your thumb big.
 They tend to breeze out the drain the moment you get naked, and just stand there staring at you, with an almost
"AND WHAT! PRICK!" look on it's little stupid face..
 Once that is out the way, its time to attempt to 'wash' yourself..with water that trickles out the shower nob like an old man shooting his load..Apart from this ain't no luke warm old man spunk you're washing yourself's water that is cold enough to enduce a fucking STROKE..As one inmate put it..
"that showers so damn cold it felt like someone was smackin' my balls with a brick"
 I know what you're thinking..what would perfectly compliment having no hot water, to make your stay at
Disneyland Manhatton even more special?
 How about...drum toilet paper!! YEHHHHHHH!
..One must share with you, the beautifully serene, magical experience..that is being almost naked,
freezing cold, and being forced to tear up the tshirt you are wearing into small rags, to use to clean
your shitty asshole..
 I can tell you straight, that's something that never fails (it happened more than once) to make
you feel like a million bucks, for real.
 I can't knock this place to be honest..We get some type of meat every week (i think it's either pheasant or quail, or so they tell me) the staff are always around to answer any questions you might have..but i think there is some kind of
language barrier involved, as most of my questions get the same response, an angry
 I'm confused. Perhaps i don't have the lingo down yet?
I mean, i asked some of my fellow inmates for some pointers, and they told me i should just throw the words YO, HOLMES, and 'all these n****rs is bums' into sentances..but that seems to only enrage people, and provoke violence towards me?
I don't know man..maybe i'm just not saying it right.

Yard Manz

I hate the weekends.
But, i have tunes. On saturday, til 12 in the afternoon, there is a sick reggae set on 89.9fm WKCR.ORG,
and i rinse it every saturday without fail..Yesterday was no different, the moment i woke up, after spraying some
air freshner to get rid of the smell of 'turkish balls and n****r nuts', banged the headphones in, and was purely jamming..
 Every cup of tea of coffee i have has around 6 packets of sugar in it..which means i'm on a constant paper chase, for
these shitty little packets of 'sugar'. It isn't real sugar, as if they gave that out people would use it for making
hooch/moonshine/ don't have to use real sugar, but still, that's their reasoning..
 While on my search for sugar, i go ask this dude known as 'Cash money', who's a Jamaican guy, around 4 foot tall,
and PURE jokes..I talk to him on the regs whenever i'm feeling shitty, and he always seems to life my spirits.

..So off we go to his cell, i hadn't been there before..his cellie is another Jamaican dude. Upon entering the cell,
his cellmate looks at me smiling
Cash money just repeats this, and they both say it about 3 times each before calming down..
 After giving me my nesecary morning fix of sugar, i tell them to put the radio station on..which they do,
and spend the next five minutes being very hyper, shouting about how they can't believe
i am listening to this 'bad man station'..

 They ask me to sit down, and talk to them about what is on my mind..i oblige..
Most people ask me the same shit in here, a variation of 'how the fuck did you get in here'..i tell them the short version,
basically i was newly married, me and my wife got arrested, and she decided to blame me for everything (which is in the process of backfiring as the authorities have caught her out lying :D ) to get off the hook..
"SHE'S GARBAGE MON, STRAIGHT GUTTA TRASH! ya young Timmyboy, a good boy like yaself soon be outta
dis, den ya get yourself tree, four wives! GOOD woman too! You be pinchin yaself in no time bwoy!Tink ya dreamin
under da sycamore tree"
 This makes me feel a little better,
i explain to them how until recently, i was very pissed off that i was being held in jail, and my ex wife was not, and seemed to be getting away scott free for her crime..but that i now understand that she was destined to go back to middle class 'alternative' suburbia, while i need to go through this to prepare myself for my next adventure in life..every ten seconds of this conversation, they are both 'spudding' me, shouting "AMEN!" and saying things like
"lord dun CARE about dat WICKED girl, but he has plans for you boy, he trying to show you that you are the chosen one! mon!"
 When leaving their cell, they give me some parting advice too..
"when you pray to gad, ask him for the MOUNTAINS, not no molehills..jah grant you anyting so ask 'im for BILLIARNS MON!"

Thursday, 10 February 2011

Bate Bundowns

If i got caught bunning a zoot down, i'd be in big shit...
..But depending who the guard is on duty, and how much of a dangerous individual you are, the rules are sometimes bent or broken..

 Sha tells me a story..
It's 9am. He decides to have a zoot for breakfast, as you do!
..The technique of this is no secret, you lie on the floor, next to the air vent that you have pulled out of the wall so it sucks all the smoke/smell out, and bun it down..This is usually done late at night, so there isn't any chance of being busted..

..So, Sha is lying down on the floor smoking a joint at 9am, and lo and behold one of the guards walks over and taps on the window..
"w...what the fuck? Manson!?"
Sha responds..
"Either come in or close the door n****r!"
the guard opens the door,
"Is that a cigarette? are you smoking weed!?"
"yeh n****r, you wanna hit?"
The guard simply closes the door
"This n****rs buggin!

what's my mother fucking name

When i walk around the jail, random people usually shout
a lot of times, every time i leave my cell. Today was a little different.
 Everyone on my tier decided to sing this song, all day, again and again, but replacing the name Snoop with Tim.
Listen to it, and imagine how my day has been today.

altogether now...tim doggy doooog...

Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Mans Yard

I hate living in this toilet. But you have to make the best of things..

The room actually resembles a public toilet, that someone has flung a couple of bunk beds into..oh, we have
a few plastic chairs too! Flossin'!
 There is a metal desk, that has a brown tshirt covering it as a table cloth, and on top of that there is an assortment
of books..graffiti, tattoos, self help, japanese samurai novels, things like that..We paid some
guy to make us some shelves the other day too, he assembled them from some cardboard that was salvaged from
a box that housed all the inmates toilet paper, some string, and disposable razors that have been jammed in
between bricks to keep it all up and 'sturdy'..
 The room has a shitload of spanish writing on the ceiling..which one day i'd love to find out what the hell it means..
When i first came into the room, i wasn't doing so good..i would spend hours, days even, staring at the ceiling blankly letting my mind run away into all kinds of negative, unhelpful destructive thoughts..
 This kind of retarded behaviour went on for a long time, i was dealing with a lot of big changes in my life, my brain was coming to all kinds of conclusions and realisations, some days it was all a little too much. Then someone made the beautiful gesture of sending me some books to help me cope with all of this, and it did helped me to accept the way things had panned out, accept peoples behaviours towards me, and ultimately understand that not everyone has the same values as me, and as long as i hold people to these same values, i will constantly be let down..
 After these life changing epiphonies happened, i took it upon myself to write some quotes of my own on the ceiling, walls, and anywhere else that wasn't visible to the guards when they do their lame ass walk around checks on the rooms..Once in the room, you can see them all, it looks like someone has lost their mind, which i guess wasn't that far from the truth at the time..
 The room usually has a rolled up jumpsuit next to the door, for two for stopping suspicious smells from exiting and sneaking up the po pos nostrils, leading to a one way ticket to Solitarysville Tennesse, and two to stop mice from coming in. Mr Mouse, as he is known, is a sneaky little bastard..i've watched him sneak under the door, and make his way around the room..sticking to the walls, some next stealth mouse! I usually just shoo it out the room, because if Sha sees it, he goes mental and starts tearing the room up, which is hard not to find amusing, especially when that just infuriates him need to encourage him!
 Lastly, my Manhatton yard is on the 9th floor, and my cell faces the front of the court on Pearl Street..i see a big group of people performing yoga...perhaps one day i will be able to join them? Probably not!

Sunday, 6 February 2011

Shit in a Bag Yo

It's been a FUCKING long day..

 Right at this moment, i'm enjoying an ice coffee, listening to 'The Night Train' radio set on 89.9..chilling.
But all has not quite been so hunky dorry in the last twenty four hours...

 I usually don't get up until around eleven o'clock..I should get up early,
especially as Sha has warned me (and i have witnessed) people will fuck you
up while you're asleep..But the assorted array or crude hidden tools i have stashed
at arms reach around my bed keeps me feeling safe enough to snooze as much
of my bid away as possible..Plus, when you're dreaming of being on the tv show
'American Gladiators' and have Scarlet Johanssons legs wrapped around your face,
mans wants to keep snoozin' you geeeeet me!
..Not today i'm afraid...just before miss Johansson eats the sujuk
i am awoken abruptly by my cellie
"YO! It smells of turkish balls and n****r nuts in here, wake the fuck up man..we got class"
 Before i leave, Sha informs me that there is no water til One pm today.
Yep, no WATER. Taps don't work, toilets don't flush. SERIOUSLY!?

..I guess my morning shit can wait til later today..
It's 9am, i can let it ferment for a few hours still..

 There is a huge line at the ice dispenser, people are stocking up on ice and microwaving it for something to drink..i don't bother, i've brushed my teeth already and 1pm isn't that far away, i can wait... to class!
Our teacher's name is 'Biz', and ironically enough, the class is to learn the basics of starting your own business!
 After a brief introduction, we go around the group, stating our initial ideals or plans for our business'...
Like most things in this jail, this class turns into pure jokes..I mean,
when you have KNOWN coccaine barons stating that there 'new' ideas for a business is, in their own words,
"export product from my country'
and even the TEACHER is saying shit like
"do something you love to do! i love to smoke trees, so i'm gonna start growing my own trees when i get out"'s hard not to crease..
 The jokes part is, all these 'classes' go on record, you get a certificate at the end, and that is shown
to your judge upon sentancing to show that you used your time inside productively! Nice!

..class is done..
..One o clock passes..
..Still no water..
 The rumour on the 'street' (i fucking wish), is that the water isn't coming back
on until after five thirty..i THINK i can stop Donatellos bonce from sneaking out my butthole til then..

SEVEN o clock rolls around, and STILL no fucking water is up in this joint..
 The atmosphere is getting extremely shitty. Literally. You can smell it in the air..
Heads are walking around licking off the rankest farts, and these joints ain't wafting away..these
are protest farts, standing their ground, kicking up a stink of biblical proportions..

 Word gets around that we may not get water until tomorrow...


 FOR FUCK SAKE, they expect us to sleep in our cells, with shit just marinating up in the motherfucker?
Yes. Yes they do..
 FUCK that. and FUCK YOU! It's time for action!!

 Without proper running water, there is no way to dispense of your waste. So you improvise..
Plastic bin bags are distributed around (on the low, po po dun know) and almost perfectly
sychronised, man dem start shitting in their bins...Once shat out, one then proceeds to dump
the little package of jailhouse truffles into the rubbish bin next to the guards office :D !
 But the fun doesn't stop there!!
Some of the more off key inamtes feel this doesn't send a loud (or rank) enough message
to the powers that be..

..Bags of shit are placed in the microwave, hidden around the unit like prizes, and put in the
clothes dryer on the highest heat setting.. :D :D :D

 While watching the guards running around on their scavenger hunt for bags of poo is rather
humurous, today has been very eye opening and humbling also..
..I mean, i never thought i would be in a position that i would think of a working
sewage system as a luxury..

..As i said, it's been a long day.
The water is back on, i have taken a shit, shower and had an amazing meal cooked for me by my freind
Q, it consisted of fried rice and bbq for that one mate! He works in the kitchen,
and always puts aside packets of sugar for me in the mornings (i never get up for breakfast) as i
drink coffee like a fiend, using 6 packets of sugar in each one..
 Speaking of, it's around 230am, i should probably stop drinking coffee now and get some sleep..who knows
what tomorrow might bring?
 Some mail? My attorney? Crack?
retribution for the shitfest earlier? who knows!? but on that note..

  Photo by Timo Stammberger

Friday, 4 February 2011

Long Day

 I'm eating a bag of plantain chips (look them up, they're BAD) and i notice Sha preparing to take a shit..
"c'mon man, i'm eating"

"Fuck that n****r, you gotta be prepared for war, this is training :D "


..It's been a long day.
Actually, boring day is more accurate.

..I'm fucking tired.
It's only eight in the evening, but i've spent most of today just working's good!
 I feel healthy, and it's starting to show..

 About a month after i first came in, i looked fucking terrible..

 I had lost a SHITload of weight due to stress, my hair was crazy long, slicked back, and
my beard was all over the fucking shop..

 I looked like Oldboy, when he's bugging the fuck out (coincidently early in HIS incarceration)..

 Luckily, now is a different story..
I am in the best shape i've been in for years..I get my beard and hair trimmed by M every two weeks,
with his excellent razor blade-taped to comb technique..Man's trying to keep it together! Not only
for the female guards, but for my own self makes me feel good :)

 Some new dude asked Sha who his cellie was today,
and Sha points at me and says
"That n****r, Gerard Butler"
..I think that was a compliment?

 My favorite radio set is on tonight (Tuesday) 'The Night Train' on (89.9fm),
it ain't on til one in the morning though...LONG!
 Plus, the 'elevator' is out of service at the moment..i think they've been doing maintenance work
or something the last couple of days..which means no 'germs' or crackalicious goodies to bun down :(

..All is not lost though!
I managed to blag a can of pepsi off my buddy T, and one is currently
sipping this bad boy on the rocks, while listening to some Brazilian Jazz, while
glancing out the window at the snow covered sidewalk below..

..Sha is outside the cell playing poker/hustling motherfuckers out of many a tuna..

..For some reason he has a towel on his head. He looks like some kind of O.G Sultan..He keeps
getting mad and smashing his hand on the table shouting
 "FUCK YOU N****R"
..I don't think things are going very well at the 'casino' tonight..

 I'll be honest, it looks like things could take a turn for the worse..This towel he is using for a
hat/headscarf seems to be inspiring some kind of Egyptian themed beatdown/flip mode..
 It wouldn't be the first time either..I've seen it all before..

..The table goes flying..people are screaming "CALM DOWN DOG!"..
and generally it just creates an awful mess and gets everyone locked down for the next few hours..

 Yep he's just thrown all his cards on the floor, here we go again..

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

bore man up

 In jail things ain't pretty.
There are many ways for a guy to get fucked up, killed, horrendously disfigured, crippled, mamed etc..
 I asked a few different inmates some of the ways that these acts can be delivered..

Stabbings. Mostly done with DIY knives, which can be made from ALL KINDS of materials, from toothpaste tubes, to plastic spoons, anything that can be melt, twisted, and morphed into a sharp T1000 esque knife, or stabbing weapon..

Throwing boiling water. This is more common than you might think..all it takes is a microwave, and a disagreement. There are unlimited possibilites when it comes to what liquid you choose to throw on your 'opponent', whether it's a drink, piss,
or even human excrement, boiled to volcanic temperatures..

 I ask Sha for some examples, he simply answers
"Man, dudes just fucking kill you with their bare hands. Simple!"

Poison-this doesn't nessecerily have to be done to kill someone, inmates regularly poison each other,
just for laughs. This can include anything from pissing in someones drink, to baking (in the microwave)
someone a cake for their birthday, that is made from 99 per cent laxatives :D
..But also it isn't too uncommon for people to someone's heroin with rat poison.

Death by falling-On the higher tiers, and mostly in actual prison compounds, if you want to
take out an adversary, simply throw them off a balcony. Simple, effective.

Dumbell-One of the more obvious weapons..we don't have dumbells here for that very reason,
because of the ludicrously high chance of death that occours when you hit someone in the head
with a weight. Another weapon which is confined to the prison compound/yard..

"a N****r stick a pen in your eye, you're fucked up man"

Blinding people-Say someone picks a fight with you, and they're clearly bigger and
stronger than, either lose face and get shit beat down your leg, or give yourself a helping
hand by throwing salt of piss in their eyes before battle commences!

Needles-There is a makeshift 'hospital' ward in the prison. This has good points and bad points.
One of the good points, possibilities to steal supplies for whatever project one is concocting.
One of the bad points, possibilities for people to steal supplies like needles to stab you with,
even with the intent of breaking the needle off in your arm/face/leg/groin.

"they used to sell baby oil but n****rs were setting people on fire"

 I had the misfortune of seeing, while researching this post, many prison scars.
I think i mentioned before that, in here, i have seen the most horrendous scars and disfigurements to date,
and this seems to constantly being upgraded every time we get new inmates shipped in...

Dirty razors-I saw an inmate who had some absolutely sick scars from a knife attack he endured upstate..he was stabbed
multiple times with a 'dirty razor'. Inmates will soak a razor in bleach, or vinegar, for months at a time..even burying razors outside in the dirt for anything up to half a year, to make sure it is completely infected. Then after stabbing an individual with such a razor, it produces a 'keloid' (check spelling) which basically makes the flesh around the wound bubble up through the open hole..seriously gruesome!

Dog bites-I know this isn't really a prison related wound, but i had to put this in.
 One of Shas associates was bitten by a security dog a few years ago, and the mutt wripped out (and ate) his shin..With no decent insurance, he went to a dodgy surgeon to get his leg repaired/saved..and the surgeon decided the best route was to take out his calf muscle and replace his shin with looks awesome.

 After all this violent talk, i go relax and make myself a cup of tea. How quintessentially Brittish :D
Complete with biscuits too..i'm chilling, not thinking about violence or bloodshed, and i overhear from
outside my cell..