Alex you forgot to put your address u bellend

I have had a very long day today,
it has left me depleted of any energy 
once posessed..i'm shattered.

One's feeble attempts to unwind are most unsucessful.

 Drinking coffee on my bed,
listening to some jazz or soul usually does the trick, but it depends on how much
my patience has been tested by the various different forms of moronic
neanderthals i am currenty imprisoned with. I'm affraid the next level of retardation i have
had to wade through today, is too much for my crude cup of coffee to combat at the moment.

 It's a good thing this blam filled blog bollocks isn't hand written,
as right now my paws are shaking like vegas dice, and i'm finding
it extremely difficult holding my pen still to write without it looking
ultra retarded and arthiritic. Maybe i do have arthiritis?

 Lack of sleep,
stress and consuming little to no water all day,
followed by this biblicallly strong mug of coffee, isn't the
smartest idea. But i need it.

 I was awoken early this morning,
and spent most of my day sitting in various holding cells and 'bull pens',
surrounded by gentleman that spoke little to no English. Or just didn't
want to make conversational pleasantries with this young Englishman
in their immiediate presence.

.. In short, going to court is LONG!!

 The holding cells have heavenly bright lights,
the air is ultra dry, the only place to sit on is a flat
metal bench which puts your ass to sleep in no time,
and you are stuck there for around five to seven hours.

 Sometimes you might run into a familiar face down there,
or perhaps just meet someone you never would have crossed
paths with, had you not been subjected to appear before
an honourary member of the American Judicial System..

 Today i bumped into a Cuban guy i had met on the 'attorney conference'
floor, who had gone into great depths to explain to me how he was 'set up'.

 When i asked him how, he went on to explain that one of his freinds had
asked him to hold a briefcase with a kilo of coccaine in, and as he didn't own
the briefcase, it was a complete injustice that he was being charged with
posession with intent to distribute..

:s

 There are a lot of people here for re-entry. As in being deported,
then sneaking back into the country..
 The more times you do it, the more jailtime you get each time
you are caught.

 One gentleman i spoke to said he walked TWO DAYS through the desert
to get here, almost died in the process, and is now looking at
four years in prison for his efforts.

 The reason he came back, risking his life and his freedom,
knowing he faced definite jailtime if caught?

 He has a wife and two little girls that live here,
and had been deported with no hope of being allowed to
return. Legally.

 Considering the motive behind this young mans crime
was the need to be close to his family, placed in his shoes,
what would you have done?

 The short trip back to the jail was a fairly rowdy
experience today if i do say so myself..

 I was one of the last people to be seen in court,
so was being taken back on my own. Or so i thought.

 As i approach the lift, cuffed and shackled like Turkish
Hannibal Lecter, i spot a MONSTER of a 'man'..

He's real fucking angry too.

This guy's arms are so big, that he LITERALLY has three pairs of handcuffs on. One on
each wrist, and one in the middle linking them up. He is so hench he can't
actually put his arms fully behind his back. Swear down.

He's screaming at the US Marshals.

Despite their stab proof vests
and assorted weaponry, THEY look scared.

"TAKE ME BACK TO THE ISLAND NOW YOU FUCKS!"

 The island he is so politely reffering to is Rikers Island,
most people are petrified of going there, one of my freinds in here
said his 18 days on the Island was harder than TWO YEARS in MCC..and this
guy before me is DEMANDING to be taken there..

Yesterday.

"N****RS GONNA TRY STEALIN' MY SHIT, WE GOTS TO GO NOW N****R!"

"Don't worry sir, we will get a Correctional Officer to box it up for you"

"FUCK THAT,
SHIT DON'T GO DOWN LIKE THAT, N****RS BE IN MY CELL ALREADY
STEALING SHIT, BEFORE THEM PUNK MOTHERFUCKIN' COPS GET TO IT"

"Look it's too late to take you back today"

"NAH, FUCK THIS, IF YOU AIN'T TAKIN' ME BACK IM'A FUCK
SHIT UP, GO STRAIGHT TO THE FUCKIN' HOLE, FUCK THIS,
WATCH! WATCH WHAT IM'A DO N****R! SOMEONE'S GONNA GET FUCKED UP! WATCH!"

..and with that, spins around and stares at me with death streaming
from his nostrils..

Clearly,
I am being looked at as the 'shit' that apparently needs to be 'fucked up'.

:(

WEAK!

The whole journey back he keeps repeating
"YOU PUNK MOTHERFUCKERS MADE A BIG MISTAKE" and randomly barking
"WATCH! WATCH!"

 During this time i am doing everything in my power to get the US Marshals attention..

Winking, nodding, waggling eyebrows, quiet yelps of "yo, yo!"
ANYTHING to signal to these guys something along the lines of
'DON'T FUCKING PUT ME IN A CELL WITH THIS DUDE!'

:( !!!!

..Po Po got the hint..about fucking time too!!
As soon as they took the many pairs of handcuffs restraining this
extremely aggravated indivudual, he starts pacing my way, luckily one
of the US Marshalls grabbed me by the arm and got me the FUCK out of there..

 I get back to my unit to find a nice postcard from a freind in Germany,
and a buddy from back in the ends..much appreciated :D

 I collapse onto my concrete slab of a mattress,
and many hours of bollocks and pointless fuckrie go past,
until now..

..So here i am.

 Same time, same place, same coffee, same hyper loud snoring
coming from my cellie below, same feelings of seclusion, isolation,
abandonment and slowly overshadowing my brain like the spaceship
from Independance Day..

 Oh well. Another day down.
Perhaps tomorrow will be somewhat better?
Here's hoping.

p.s
i typed this the next day.
it wasn't.

Dumb shit

I've had stretched ears since i was in high school.

I think i was around 13 or 14 when i got them done.
My brother was the inspiration for me to get them, he had them before anyone else
so i got them, just like tattoos, his were better than most people so i got them too,
he was always the guy that i looked up to for inspiration..the div..but he's my div.

 I've had many different sets over the years,
metal rivets, neon blue, wood, ones with clubs, spades, stars,
all kinds of silly bollocks.

 I had a nice pair of wooden ones that i flossed for a good
period of time, until my Turkish masterbation fanatic landlord in
Maspeth threw them in the trash. I couldn't find them one day,
and it was beyond obvious that he was to blame..
 I found him sprawled on the couch, stoned.
Upon describing them to him, his eyes lit up and he said
he knew exactly what i was talking about..i then explained
that they were my 'ear rings', and that they were (i lied) expensive.
 The dribbling moron then turned white, lost his grasp of the English language
and denied all knowledge of ever seeing them in the apartment..

Safe.

 In June 2009,
i dated a girl from Forest Hills in Queens. She was a chef at some poncy
seafood restaurant by the West side highway. I would go meet her in the
meat packing district after we had finished work.
 We would go get drunk in various majorly overpriced bars,
she'd get coked up, then we'd jump in a cab back to either my tiny Turkish yard,
or her parents ULTRA hench Home Alone sized megamansion..

..Were she would repeatedly fail to get some dick.

Don't get me wrong, she was reasonable pretty.
Big jugs. Fat ass. Big blue eyes..i definitely thought she
was worth a couple quick jabs, if i didn't i wouldn't have made
the effort to meet her in the first place! Mans approached her
in some bar off Bleeker street, and spat a load of ludicrous blams
to her in my best Prince Harry accent about how i didn't know the
area, and enquiring where she got all of her obismally bad Amy Winehouse-esque
tattoos (i don't think i worded it to her that way).

Anyway,
I understood that she worked in a fish restaurant. I also understood that it's hard work,
you sweat and perhaps she can't shower at work or clean up properly. After hanging with
her for a while though, on days when she DIDN'T have work, it became apparent that
this girl either had a festish for not washing, or she critically needed to see a gynacologist.

She stank.
Hence no dick.
From me anyway.

To make a long story short,
we were knocking around together for a few months, split up, i started putting
the Turkish bone on her best freind, we moved in together and eventually got married..

However,
Before me an the chef split, she gave me a pair of white plugs to replace the
ones that my landlord has flushed down the toilet/thrown in the bin/stuck up his ass.
Up until my arrest, i was flossing them.

 Being faced with a bunch of gun clad screaming Americans who thought that my apartment
was a scene from Call of Duty=Turkops, telling me i was under arrest pointing a shotgun in my face,
my thoughts were not on my appearance at that time..so i didn't put my plugs in before they
carted my ass of to jail..

 Today,
on this rainy boring Saturday,
i got very bored. So bored infact, that
i decided to make some plugs. This wouldn't be the first time i
attempted this utterly pointless exercise..

 The last attempt involved me getting a bone from some 'fried chicken' we had
for lunch, boiling itm scraping out all the bone marrowish nastyness shit inside,
then spending hours cutting it to size with a flimsy disposable razor.
 Finally, i sanded down the edges with a nail file. Voila!

 Approximately three hours work.
Turned out the bone was too small, and they didn't fit.
Amazing.

 I still have them though,
they sit on my shelf as a reminder of how bored i was that day..They actually
look nothing like plugs, people routinely mistake them for some kind of voodoo dice,
like the ones King Willy was shakin' in Predator 2 before he merked..

..Todays attempt was more succesful.
I used the lids to a couple biros, cut them up,
and filed them down as i did before with the bone..

These ones fit. But i look like i have two pen lids in my ears.
I DO have two pen lids in my ears, who cares though?

My cellie.

"Kid, that ain't the look in prison. Take that dumb shit out your ears"

:(

Count this

It's time for stand up count.
This happens three times a day. While we are locked in
our cells, two Correctional Officers go from cell to cell, making
sure all the inmates are in their appropriate cells, and are
accountable for.
 Pretty straight forward bullshit.

 The guard on duty, depending if they are safe or not,
will usually bang on the window when passing to say hello..

My cellie recounts a story from when he was over
at the infamous island..Rikers island..

 It's count time.
In some of the buildings there, the doors just
have a hole in them, no glass. So you can stick
you arm/head through.

 Some guy a couple cells down from my partner decides
count time is as good as any to start jerking off, so pulls
his dick out and starts furiously masterbating.

 As the female guard comes closer and closer
to his cell, the guy starts shouting..

"count this BITCH! count this,
count this DICK!"

 She gets to his cell,
pears in, sees him wanking, and cool
as a cucumber spits straight on his dick and walks off..
..followed by screams of

"YEAH! YEAH! YEAH BABY!"

:D

Pure blamries

Recently,
i seem to have developed some very strange,
possibly unhealthy habits.

 One of these being making obnoxiously strong, large cups of coffee before we get
locked in for the night, and staying up as late as possible..

..It's got to the point that i look forward to it all day.

 inhaling biblical amounts of caffeine then purposely
starving my brain of sleep, leaves me feeling pretty
bugged the fuck out..

 It's like i'm half awake, in a very calm, dreamlike state..

When i do this, my predicament does not seem so scary.
 My goals appear much less distant and unreachable..

Things just don't seem so bad.

 My regrets evaporate.
Negative thoughts are effortlessly brushed aside,
and the pain i carry around on my shoulders is momentarily lifted..

..I feel almost numb. In a good way :)

Some things are harder to shake than others..

 When i think about my marriage,
what it meant to me and the exciting future i had imagined
for the two of us,
 travelling the world, experiencing everything this life has to offer together,
different adventures in different countries,
 and eventually starting a family together,
all of the progress i think i have made in the last few months
instantly falls apart,
 i am back to square one, and it's time to start from scratch.

 Is it better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all?

I'm unsure.

 Sometimes i feel asif it was all a dream.
The places i passed through, the situations i got myself into,
emotions i shared, impressions i left along the way..did it all actually happen?
The fact that i'm sitting in this shithole, stuck in pergatory,
it did.

If i was given the choice to wake up at the beginning of 2009, before i got on the plane to New York City,
 and all of this had simply been a dream,
instead of being in my current situation, one foot in the fucking grave,
recollecting memories that bring me great happyness and fullfilment,
but also great sadness, heartache and pain,
would i take it all back?

..I'm also unsure.

What i am certain of, is i need help.
I need help letting go of the emotions i am somehow still holding on to,
i need help cutting all attachments to this idea that the person i married had the capability or any intentions
of being there for me, or had/has any idea of what the actual concept of love marriage and commitment is all
about..

I need to move forward.

I've been reading a lot of books since my arrest. I read a really interesting book about buddhism and the Dhali Llama
not too long ago. A very dear freind of mine was kind enough to send me some more books by David Icke,
and while flicking through one earlier this evening i came across something that really spoke to me,
and perhaps gave me a bit of clarity..

"True love does not always give the reciever what it would like to recieve,
but it will always give that which is best for it. So welcome everything you recieve
whether you like it or not. Ponder on anything you do not like and see if you can see
why it was necessary. Acceptance will then be much easier."
Nice.

soup an crackers

It's late.
 I'm sitting crossed legged on my bed, staring out the window..

 I took a shower before we got locked down for the night.
The water was very hot, and the pressure was high as fuck..it left
me feeling relaxed and relieved a lot of the stress that was on my mind..
 You can't buy sponges or anything to actually clean yourself with in here,
so i took it upon myself to cut a chunk out of the foam they use to buff
the wax off the floor with, and fashion it into some kind of crude body
scrubbing tool..
 I think i took a layer of my skin off with it, but FUCK do i feel clean!
I'd put money on the fact that my cock an balls are the cleanest up in this
motherfucker right now..

 My hair is pretty short.
I got it cut about a week ago, people assume i have a visit or something, which
i don't, i just do it for my self esteem..I like to look good :) My beard is getting pretty
hench though, i might have to lop it off tomorrow, depending on how bored i am..

 The weather outside is really nice.

It's raining. Bigtime.

 I can just make out the thunder crashing down outside..
The rain is battering the pavement like there's no tomorrow,
and the wind is moulding the falling dropelts of rain into all manner
of shapes and patters as it hits the sidewalk..

 The last night i was free it rained just like this.

..I was making my way home from a night out with a freind in Williamsburg,
as soon as i got out of the G train subway station, the heavens opened..

At the time i was flossing a recently purchased New Era dome, so decided
to wrap that up in my jacket and take the full force of the downpour on my bonce..

..I remember every part of that journey back to my old apartment like it was yesterday..

 The streets were completely empty, and deathly silent.

Looking back,
it was almost like i was aware something wasn't quite right.
 Considering how much i had lost the plot though,
if someone would have told me what was going to transpire in the next
24 hours, i most likely wouldn't have believed them anyway..

 I remember by the time i got back to my yard,
i was completely drenched.
 After peeling my soaking wet clothes off and neatly hanging
them in the shower to dry off, i put some vegetable soup on the
cooker to make myself grub to warm me up..
 The wife was already conked out asleep on the futton. Upon hearing
her husbands arrival and attempts to warm up my poor mans dinner,
she remembered that she was pissed off that i had chosen to go out
instead of staying in and getting high..Bless..

 A couple minutes of negative banter later,
and my soup was ready for consumption..
 I sat down with my vegetable soup and plate of crackers, watched about half
an hour of the shady copy of Desperado i had downloaded earlier that day,
and consumed my last meal as a free man..

..I don't think the coffee and donuts i was given while
being interogated the next day counts..

..Ever since that day, September 19th 2010,
i have been here. The same building, same view,
same pathetic pointless pergatorious 'existence', if you
could call it that.
 It sucks.

 Various inmates keep giving me the same advice,
"all you need to do is maintain Timmyboy, live, survive,
and you will come out of this into a life better than anything
you've ever known"
 It's a good sale, i've give em that much :)
Somedays i belive them.
 Others, i find it harder to swallow..

 Despite not seeing her since the day of my arrest,
and not hearing from her directly since October, my thoughts
still wander to my 'wife' and my marriage..
 I NOW know that you can't change people.
I know that she never could have been the partner i was looking for.
 I knew her past, what she was used to and what type of person she was..
..But i took a chance. I went with my emotions instead of my intellect..I looked
for the best in her and ignored the rest. I thought i was right,
and everyone else was wrong...
FOOLIO!

..Despite now knowing all of this,
i still feel a lot of pain. Being ripped apart from someone
i loved that much, has been more than traumatising for me.
 Her behaviour since then, no matter how cowardly, somehow has
had little effect on me.
 I acknowledge that she clearly wasn't the person that i thought i was marrying.
I am aware that she doesn't hold the same values as me on life, love and marriage.
 But i still somehow have trouble giving up that spark of hope and faith in her that kept
me with the broad thoughout all the bullshit...

 Before i sleep each night, i pray.
I pray that i get another chance. I was handed the world and everything i had ever wanted,
but my hands were dirty and i dropped it. I pray that i am given a second chance, i won't fumble
the ball this time, i'll take it and run with it, never forgetting what can happen when you start slipping..
 I pray for wisdom and strength to get me through this nightmare in one piece.
I pray for peace of mind and serenity on the things that are out of my control and that i can't change.

 Lastly,
i pray for her.
I pray that she is surrounded by positive people, that she is leading a healthy,
happy lifestyle and that someday she will acknowledge that her treatment of me,
our marriage and the value of my life,
was wrong.

..I guess only time will tell..

Mixed Doubles?

..Mans cant sleep for shit.

 Due to some problems downstairs (as in downstairs in this building, not my penis or asshole)
the shop that we get all of our products from, hasn't had any deliveries of coffee in around..

A while.

 Today though, they have re-stocked..

:D :D :D

 I've been drinking the strongest Columbian coffee all fucking day,
i think this is my fourth or fifth cup, it's like crack. Except cheaper, and i don't have
to burn my fingers lighting it :O !

..By the way, it's three in the morning..

 I'm frantically scanning the radio for some merk bars or beats,
but there isn't fuck all to my taste being blasted on this piece of shit..

 I glance out the window,
and i'm treated to the sight of a very rain soaked New York City..

..I miss the rain.

 It's been a hot minute since i've felt rain drops on my skin,
the thought of being outside right now in this downpour,
as always, is very fucking appealing indeed..

 When i moved to Maspeth, Queens,
my fat blob cunt of a cousin gave me a crappy pair or ultra bras trainers, possibly the only
thing he did do for me, the fat piece of shit wanker that he was..
 Anyhow, that obese piss smelling hoggle of an individual
is making me lose my train of thought..

..Trainers, yeah. i'd use them joints to go running in..

 Going for long ass runs in the rain was always fun,
especially with some decent tuneries to jam too on road..in an
epic thunderstorm or downpour it's really dope going for some
epically uphill jog :D

It looks real peaceful outside.

The street below is completely empty.

 The warm glow of the street lamps are reflecting off the shimmering pavement..
..It's really nice!

 The beautiful view,
caffeine in my system and my overactive imagination
is preventing my exhausted mind and boy from some well needed rest..

Some nights i find my cellies snoring theraputic,
almost like waves crashing onto rocks..

..it helps me to drift off to a better place,
filled with freinds, loved ones and good people..

Tonight is not one of those nights..

Jamaican Curry

I'm on my tier,
it's the middle of the day, yet the cage door leading to all our cells is locked the fuck down.

..No one has been violated, robbed or boyyed..

..it's chicken day.

 i've got plans for my piece of bird,
man's blagged his way nto the Jamaican shower
Cartels whip today!
:D

 I've been watching these guys merk the fuck out
of chicken for time now, and as i'm cool with them, they've set me in the
whip for todays Jamaican Curry..

 I grab my piece of bird, dodge all the vultures
circling me for my poultry piece of hairy roadkill,
and hand it to the chef..who spends the next few
hours marinating the FUCK out of my chicken with
all kinds of next level herbs and spices..

 As always,
on chicken day the kitchen is uber rammo.
 When someone is cooking for me (for free) i usually
stand close by incase they need some kind of help preparing
our meal.
 Whether that is chopping up some vegetables, helping mans multitask,
grabbing spices, herbs and ingredients from peoples cells on a secret squirrel flex,
or just 'holding them down' (keeping an eye out for the po po)..

 My freind B is also cooking.
I'm currently doing some work for him, he wants me to sketch his baby mothers name
and his daughters name in bubble lettering..no problemo :D
 The shit he is marinating his bird in smells fucking BANGING!

"What you got in that bowl B?"
"FLAVOURS, N****R!"
..I was looking for a more specific answer to my question..
"err, what kind of flavours?"
He swiftly turns around, flossing an ULTRA screwface..
"N****R!...look, Q, tell this n****r what's in that bowl.."
Q extends his arm, his fist almost touching my nose, with his hand tightly clenched.hethen slowly
opens his hand, one finger at a time, like a blooming flower..He looks me dead in the eye and
in a very loud robotic monotome voice shouts
"FLAE-VORRS!"
:(

..I head back to my cell.

 It's a couple hours until my Jamaican Curry turns up,
but fucking hell was it worth the wait!!
 I don't usually like hot food, but this guy absolutely smashed it!
Thre was just enough spice to leave my tongue tingling, and i can
taste all the different vegetables, spices and ingredients..
 It's quite a spectacle too, me and these three other Jamaican dudes
crammed in this tiny cell, yammin all this curry down with next to no
room to manouvre..
 Everyone is talking in pattwa too..

"Timmy do you understand?"

..I just nod my head and keep munching the ultra dope
food that i have been licky enough to have been given.
 Not everyone is lucky enough to have a meal cooked for them,
let alone one as ludicrously sick as the one i'm currently inhaling..

 The fact that this guy has put the work in,
marinating the shit out of my once cruddy piece of chicken,
is something that i am very grateful for and appreciate,
a lot.

 Meanwhile,
for the people that didn't remix their bird,
the prison is resembling a baron wasteland, scarce of any
remnants of food, and it's turning into survival of the fittest..

..i overhear on my way back to my cell..

"LISTEN UP.
I'M LOOKING FOR A BAG OF CHEESE DOODLES.
 I KNOW ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS GOT SOME,
IM'A ASK YOU NICELY AN IM'A PAY YOU BACK.
 iF NOT,
IF I FIND OUT, AN I WILL FIND OUT IF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS
GOT EM, IM'A BREAK A MOTHERFUCKER OFF.
 YOU CAN HEAR ME FIENDING FOR CHEESE DOODLES AN I KNOW
A MOTHERFUCKERS GOT EM.
 I AIN'T GONNA ASK AGAIN,
IM'A JUST START VIOLATING N****RS."

:D