We are up in the mountains so the temperature can drop very easily, I have been warned that in the coming months it is going to get really bad too, to the point that we won't be allowed out after three... They're already closing the yard at about seven. When I first got here they would let us boogie til about nine!
That's what's up!
I been trying to order a scarf from the store for the last three weeks, but they been dee-boin' me, takin bread out my account then saying they out of stock and claiming to give me a refund...
What can you do...
The view from outside my window isnt too bad...
It's
a very thin but long window that is high up on the wall. I can just
about see out of it from my bunk, I see the top of the razorwire
fence... In the distance I see a couple of electric pilons surrounded by
big-ass trees... I much prefer it to looking out into the city!
Especially a city you know you're not coming back to!
That shit was straight retarded...
Ok on the rare occasion
I had a visitor it was nice to see them flapping away at me
across the street, standing under the lampost by the courthouse opposite
my cell on the ninth floor, but the "normal" passing of civilians did
not help in keeping my mind out of the street...
Especially in summer...
All that good mother-fucking pussy walkin' back an forth all day every day...
Tough times!
Anyways I got to go...
I have to eat my bagel (not prison slang) and my guitar class starts....
Five minutes ago.
Im'a get back at you...
So after trying and failing to exchange my dusty jean jacket, now stained with coffee after a clever person ran into me shouting "sorry" yesterday evening, I grabbed a steel string guitar and parked up in the back of the mostly Spanish-speaking congregation of inmates an ran through a bunch of drills before bordom/lack of stimulation set in..
A few loops of familiar basslines that have stuck in my head over the years... Reruns of bits and pieces, Knuckledust, Caliban, Special move, Assorted jelly beans, an intro from a Cry for silence cd I payed a pound for at the Cartoon over a thousand years ago.
El Timdogs Spanish isn't quite up to the point where I can hold down a conversation that requires more input than "good" or "rubbish" or "little" or "motherfucker" so I just sit there.. Occasionally sipping on a cup of coffee that is conceiled in a folded up jacket..
You're not supposed to have coffee in class. Which makes me "gangster" of course.
"Too many mariachi in Mexico!"
For the last twenty minutes of class my attention was transfixed to a silver-haired old man, softly picking and singing away in the corner of the room...
This guy was gangster...
"You pay 150 pesos, they teach, you play"
He was mostly using two to three chords in each song but it was carried along by a bassline played with his little finger.
He told me...
"I travel across Mexico many time from 1996 til they catch me two-hundred nine"
I managed to very crudely play the two basic chord and bass licks he showed me. I'd love to play more.
He said he's going to teach me...
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