Boxing Day

It's snowing outside.

Toes pressed close to the white brick walls..

Fingers curled around grey criss-cross thatched metal bars..

My thoughts turn to what it must be like outside..

Huddled in the corner of a long cell-lined corridor
does not guarantee you silence from your co-inhabitants..

Quarrels..

Arguments..

Bargains..

Mastering of ceremonies..

filth ladened comments on passers by..

It never stops.

Tiny grains of white hale bounce off the old brown glass
and little corners of ice are growing on the other side of
the glass.

Nose pressed upon the dirt..

A small high-pitched whistling from outside..

Down below pea coats and North Faces are speed-walking
across the black shiny pavement, scuttling towards subway
stations, enclosed spaces, no attention is payed to the falling
white pieces of dust above and the white sky behind it..

But i guess it's to be expected.

It's busy out there..

In my immediate vicinity there are two factions of Spaniard caught in
a war of the words concerning one parties statement that an individual
to my right was consummated during his mother was on baking soda infused
cocaine.

Making him a 'Crack Baby'.

A subtraction of the comment was made
but there was too little effort to stir up any believable conviction..

They're probably gonna pop.

I'm tired..

An I'm looking forward to being locked in my little toilet..

****

"Celebrating the turn of the year is an ancient custom. The Romans celebrated the Saturnalia, the festival of Saturn, God of harvest, between December 17 and 23. It was the most cheerful festival of the year. All work and commerce stopped, and the streets were filled with crowds and a carnival atmosphere. Slaves were temporarily freed, and the houses were decorated with laurel branches. People visited one another, bringing gifts of wax candles and little clay figurines.
 Long before the birth of Christ, the Jews celebrated an eight-day Festival of Lights [at the same season], and it is believed that the Germanic peoples held a great festival not only at midsummer but also at the winter solstice, when they celebrated the rebirth of the sun and honored the great fertility gods Wotan and Freyja, Donar (Thor) and Freyr. Even after the Emperor Constantine (A.D. 306-337) declared Christianity to be Rome's official imperial religion, the evocation of light and fertility as an important component of pre-Christian midwinter celebrations could not be entirely suppressed.
 In the year 274 the Roman Emperor Aurelian (A.D 214-275) had established an official cult of the sun-god Mithras, declaring his birthday, December 25, a national holiday. The cult of Mithras, the Aryan god of light, had spread from Persia through Asia Minor to Greece, Rome, and as far as the Germanic lands and Britain.
 Numerous ruins of his shrines still testify to the high regard in which this God was held, especially by the Roman legions, as a bringer of fertility, peace and victory.
 So it was a clever move when, in the year A.D 354, the Christian church under Pope Liberius (352-366) co-opted the birthday of Mithras and declared December 25 to be the birthday of Jesus Christ"

- NEUE ZURCHER ZEITUNG, Anne-Susanne Rischke, December 25, 1983

The world didn't end.

My body feels very sore
and is trying to tell me that it wants
me to replace burnt calories.

This is the hardest part of my day..

I've finished working out,
which consisted of about an hour and a half
on this step machine wearing two t-shirts,
thermal underwear and some sweatpants so
i sweat my balls off..

Sprayed the machine down with cleaning fluid
and cleaned it then washed all my clothes
in the shower..

Made a cup of coffee..

An am now locked in my cell for the
rest of the evening.

I'm sitting here cross legged on my prayer rug
trying my best to resist my bodies cravings for sugar.

The last thing i ate..

Made me violently spray white-hot
liquid metal out my pink asshole..

In front of me sits a bowl of milk-less cinnamon
toast crunch mixed with a pack of this chocolate
rice cereal.

"It must be considered that there is nothing more difficult to carry out,
nor more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous to handle,
than to initiate a new order of things" - Niccolo Machiavelli

Seasons Greetings

--------

The last couple weeks have been good.

Despite the somewhat disappointing news that
my sentencing has been pushed back to late January
i really haven't had any reason to complain.

I have been fitting more activities into
each day, some creative projects I've been
working on have started to come together,
people have been sending me letters and
Christmas cards through the mail..

-THEO

-SL <send me a return address mate>

-JENIFFER

-SYKES

-LISA & ROB

-ALEX N

-PRISONERS ABROAD

-REVEKKA

-KATHERINE J

-MAUREEN AND JOHN

-KEELY

-FRANK

-DAVE

Thank you to the people who are checking for me
at the moment.

I always love to hear from you and you should
be receiving something in the mail soon..

Life isn't too bad at all.

I'm in relatively good shape, staying productive
and trying to still use my creative talents here and there,
my parents and loved ones are healthy and not unnecessarily
worrying about me..

Time is passing well.

I still get bi-weekly periods where my energy levels
get low and whatever i have been using to keep me inspired
starts to seem a little distant and out of reach..

But it's expected.

After all..

Life would get pretty boring if everything went to plan no?

If every single day was spent in complete comfort
with nothing to work towards, no goals, however decadent
your lifestyle might be it would inevitably get mundane and
boring or at the least you would grow unappreciative of
what you have at hand each day..

A little test to see how you deal with a difficult circumstance
can only lead to a better knowledge of your own capabilities.

I've found it very productive to, instead of seeking relief,
trying to focus on what i can do today to make sure whatever
is bothering me is not about tomorrow and if i can't do anything,
then i need to keep my mind occupied until the feeling passes.

A little period of difficulty is good.

At times when i am feeling low or un-motivated i can stop for
a moment, take some time to reflect on my life and the things
i take for granted, think about the people around me in worse
off situations than me, what they would give to swap their
problems for mine..

(imagine never going home from jail)

Life is very good right now.

Come Bug An Spray..

"Yo can i play?"

:/

"Son..this here my nephew Timdog.."

"You ain't.."

"In fact i think you're a bozo..NOW GO FIND Y'SELF SOMETHIN'
TO DO BEFORE I REACH OVER THIS TABLE AN SMACK THE
SHIT OUTTA YOU"

"I do not pretend to be a divine man, but i do
believe in divine guidance, divine power and divine prophecy.
I am not educated, nor am i an expert in any particular field - but i am sincere
and my sincerity is my credentials." - Malcolm X

in Carshalton AND Benhilton..

Even though I've been using gloves and grips
my hands and fingers are covered in blisters
from the pull-up bar.

Every Friday i've been doing fifty sets with this Jamaican dude
but i missed it last time to go on the roof, so instead i knocked
them out yesterday and today is supposed to be my day off.

But as always i get bored and if i walk past
some people that are working out they usually
ask me why i'm not working out and then i do
in fact end up working out.

So yeah..

That's what happened today.

No need to get moody about it though,
at least out of all the bullshit i COULD be doing in here
it's something that can only result in something good right?

I didn't go mental either we only did about twenty sets
and some pushups..

A few dips..

:)

It's just about coming upto the third
winter i've been in this facility. I don't look
at this part of year as being any different from
the rest. I know there's a few dates on the calendar
but let's be real they ain't anything that i actually can
fully participate in so why pay them any mind and
now i'm used to just getting on with it anyway..

Gotta be said though my first winter
in jail fucking SUCKED!!

I didn't know WHAT the fuck was going on,
had no idea of the actuality of my situation and
was still holding onto whispy hopes that i might
get bailed out of here and have a fighting chance
with all this..

Back then the idea of spending Christmas or
New Years or any kind of 'festive' holiday in prison
was pretty grim. With time you get used to it and
adapt so now i don't even acknowldge dates like
that on the calendar. If i'm going to get pissed about
being in here i might aswell be pissed PERIOD instead
of just on Christmas and New Years but no that is
not a good look..

Not for me..

I guess ONE thing to look forward to is the fuck-off hench
bag we get a week or two before Santa Comes up in this
motherfucker, it's got all kinds of munch and tea and bullshit
in there but most importantly these little pouches of peach
body scrub that i bust out whenever i need to clean my sneakers..

Or feel like scrubbin' up for a visit..

I'd like some clarification of whether
peanut butter sandwhiches is bad for you?

Like as in if you eat them really late?

It's widely known that the majority of advice
that's dribbled out in here concerning diets and
exercise regimes is pure shit and i've asked this
question many times with many various responses..

Considering i eat them all the time
i'd like to know if it's bad or not.

For example..

I have a couple of sandwhiches in front of me in a small
bowl with a crack on the bottom.

I didn't make the crack someone else did,
then claimed they didn't do it, going as far as shouting,

"WORD TO MOTHER"

Asif that is some kind of lie detector test or proof
that he isn't talking pure shit..

But yeah there's two of them sitting there, slightly microwaved,
next to a cup of coffee i have balanced on top of a Best of Style File,
there's no jam or 'jelly' in them just straight up raw dog peanut butter
on brown bread.

Ever since i was little i used to eat my sandwhiches like this,
my mother would make them the exact same way ever day for
school in my pack lunch and i never got bored of them.

When i'm tired or feeling a little shitty it always
puts me in a better mood..

Even in jail..

You didn't open a new apple sauce stop lying

I don't know whether it's the cup of coffee
or the crappy pair of sewn together sweat shorts
that i'm wearing..

But it's fucking baking in here tonight.

The window is completely steamed up,
i can't see anything outside and there isn't much
to do but lay down on my back and rest my feet
on the wall..

There is some reggae on the radio.

So things could always be worse..

I may have mentioned this before,
but when i get exceptionally bored i start
to chop my clothing up an right about now
there is a pair of corny grey long johns sitting
in the corner of my bed.

What you think?

I've seen a couple of heads who's chopped the
legs off and made them into these ultra rude
floppy hats?

Imagine one of them sleeping caps or a Santa Claus
hat but grey and made out of some underwear.

Onetime i saw this big guy with dreadlocks
wearing a leg from some sweatpants on his
head as a hat.

He was Gangster for that one
but i don't think i could pull that one off..

Up until about a week ago i had this nice limited
edition shit-brown short sleeve shit.

admittedly the size was XXXL but i could still
pull it off with some big socks and a big pair
of shorts..

Anyways..

Someone asked if he could buy it.

I said no.

So this moron then proceeded to go around the unit
telling everyone that i looked like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman
whenever i would wear it..

"He look like he wearin' his boyfreinds shit"

Idiot..

But yeah now i'm in need of something new.

I think im'a let the long johns live for now,
it's getting colder and as i don't know what's
going to be happening in the next few months
it might make sense to hold on to them.

Plus i did actually get a brand new
mustard brown t-shirt the other day.

An it's a really good fit too..

Prick.

You see my tiger?

I don't know what to do with myself this evening.

I'm very tired but there's too many people outside the cell an i am
really not in the mood to be fucked with tonight..

As i missed Fifty Friday i made up for it today,
knocking out three hundred sets of pull-ups in about
two hours.

I've also been up since six in the morning listening to reggae..

People keep coming to the cell to talk to me.

I don't want to talk.

These people are coming with good intentions
but it's not going to be a healthy or productive conversation and
I'm really not in the mood to be going down that road right now.

-How unfair all of this is..

-What they're being charged with..

-How unprofessional their attorney is behaving towards them..

-That a private attorney has claimed to get amazing results
as long as they pay a ridiculous amount of money for their service..

-If i know what their judge is like and what kind of sentences
they are known for handing out..

Then after all that i am asked for my opinion.

During doing so i can just see on their face that as I'm not
telling them exactly what they want to hear they're just blanking
me out and not listening..

Just waiting for me to stop speaking so they can try and
convince me I'm wrong and that they're right..

"Yeah but.."

There is no point..

I mean just look at who you're talking to!!

I'm in here for some meatball shit!!

Despite years of fighting..

Working harder at this than anything else
in my entire life combined times ten..

I still have no idea when I'm coming home.

:(

So i can't help you..

There is nothing for us to gain huddling in a small toilet
going back an forth about just how bad our lives
are and the impossible task that we have been
given to get back to our lives.

Trust me..

Please..

I've done this..

I've done this for twenty seven months..

I've talked about the same things with hundreds of different people and the result is always the same..

You just feel miserable!!

I wish i could do something but there is no
answer i nor anyone else can give that will fix your
problems and lead you back to your family..

If there was..

We wouldn't all be here..

I broke it with cereal and a banana

My attention is fixed on the blob of poor wiring,
rubbish reception, scatty plastic and broken buttons
that's slowly rising with the inhalation of methane
and falling with the exhalation of carbon monoxide..

It's swaying up an down like a piece of cloth in the wind,
and is just about enough to steal my attention from the
off-white ceiling above my face.

I have not eaten for forty eights hours..

I can hear each one of my eyelids opening,
it sounds like someone slowly pulling the top off of
one of them Muller yoghurts but ends with a PIP noise..

Which...

I imagine..

Is a somewhat similar noise to that of a finger
popping out of a an un-lubed woman's asshole..

...

Anyway..

I can feel my heart beating.

All the veins on my forearms are standing on tip toes,
i can actually see their colors underneath the tattoos
scattered across my hairy Turkish arms..

The pulsing of blood flying around my body
is making me shudder from side to side each
time it beats..

I don't want to move.

I'm very comfortable laying here at the moment..

The noise of pages flicking underneath me is relaxing,
an if you ignore the fact that it's being plundered for female
photographs that will eventually end up being came over,
it's a pretty chilled out up in this motherfucker tonight..

I'm pretending the pages of gossip and D-list celebrities
are waves on a beach..

When I'd go stay with my parents I'd hear
that shit as they live near the sea..

Sometimes when i can't sleep i think about
being in Turkey and listening to the sea..

It helps me forget where i am from time to time..

I can hear a buzzing noise coming from somewhere in the room
and it's increasingly pissing me off.

Twisting my neck in different diagonal directions
trying to figure out what is the source of the buzzing
isn't helping an after fucking up my neck pretty badly,
an arm is stretched out, i hold onto the bars on the window
and enjoy the cold metal on the rough palm of my left hand..

I don't have any gloves to do pull-ups with.

Sometimes people lend me theirs but i borrowed some from somebody
and then some NEXT dude joined in working out with me who DIDN'T get
along with the dude who lent me the gloves..

Now i don't use any.

But yeah..

After a few minutes of pulling on my forearm,
twisting the tattoos and squidging the names and faces
dotted around my arm..

I get bored again.

Staring at my sweatpants,
almost as if I'm blankly eyeballing my own balls,
i noticed that my sweatpants are starting
to bobble..

I don't like this..

I try to maintain some kind of interest in my person appearance in here,
whether that's getting a haircut every week and a half, folding my clothes
and putting them under my mattress to give the impression they are ironed,
or just keeping my beard and sneakers in relatively good condition..

I try..

:/

Next time you're on your own and somewhere that is very quite,
after brushing them try closing your teeth very softly,
notice the noise it makes..

Because that's what i just did.

For about an hour..

Staring at the ceiling..

Thinking about how I'd made it this far..

SURELY i can hold out until tomorrow morning..

After slumping my way to the sink,
i stand way too close to the mirror and
stare at my gaunt reflection..

My beard is long enough to comb now.

I obsessively run a thick brush through it..

Tomorrow I'll make a big bowl of oatmeal for breakfast.

Maybe even some chicken soup for lunch too..

"I'll explain later.."

Timmy-Moneybags

A vast collection of balding mounds of blubber,
huddled together in such closeness that moist beads of sweat
inter-locked each un-kept armpit in an intricate woven tapestry
of body hair and caked-on layers of dirt..

Each time the clock slowly completes a rotation,
bingo wings start to flap mid-air and ork-like shrieks
fill the room with a warm glow of ignorance..

A basketball game was on TV.

This should have been an idealistic moment
in my waking life to un-shroud my agoraphobic tube of flesh
from it's prison issue home, unravel it's freshly shaven ball sack
and finish this marvel of Turkish/Polish/English cross pollination
with a slow stream of thick grey dead semen entering the
New York City sewage system.

But things did not quite work out how one had planned..

:(

As a man..

A Turkish one at that..

I have needs..

Despite being shoveled out grisly balls of un-definable flesh
that has been specifically chosen because of it lowers your sex drive,
i still have to dun the dance every once in a while.

Personally..

I have never and will never enjoy fondling my distraught penis
while possessing the knowledge that another penis-carrying entity
is less than seven foot from me and capable of entering my domain
of masturbation with ease..

So..

Given the rare gift of some isolation/peace and quiet/jerk time..

I will dust off the hammer an spray a couple licks.

Why not!!

If i do not..

It can have some negative side effects..

I have never and will never enjoy waking up in the middle of the night..

After enthusiastically doggy-style stabbing some mind-made
piece of pussy that my brain has kindly treated me to..

Being treated to the forever-shameful feeling of waking up..

Disappointed..

In a fucking JAIL cell..

With a liquid mesh of dead sperm and pubic hair
bubbling on my groin..

:(

It gets even better!!

Then i have the pleasure of slurping my
way to the sink, peeling off the spunk-soaked
draws an silently soaping up my spermy dick
an balls in the sink!!

Joy!!

:(

So as the hordes of dribbling,
toothless grunts lined their fecal-stained chairs
up to watch i don't give a fuck play suck your mother,
i gleefully retire to my quaint sleeping chambers,
armed with a pathetically deviant-like collection of
magazine clippings and a faint hope that this crappy
collage of females is going to tingle my penis out of
its slumber and inspire my freshly shaven balls into
mass evacuation of all the clostrophic spunk that
has accumulated in my sack..

I put up the crusty towel over the window..

Brandish a Turkish firearm..

An get ready to cash some long overdue cheques..

Things start off promising!!

A mid-speed rhythmic strangulation technique,
couple with sporadic squeezes of nut sack
produces a mildly interested mono-vained
erection that..

With a little bit of discipline and focus..

An perhaps added wrist-twists..

Should shortly produce a cloudy steam
of salty liquidized Turkish babies into the
closest piece of fabric that i have chosen
to act as the coveted Cum Rag..

But like i said..

Things didn't go to plan..

The strong scent of aged methane and facial puss
overwhelms the room, killing any kind of romantic
feeling that has struck up between my penis and
it's five fingered lover..

All i can hear is the heroin-damaged voices
spouting phlegm infused statements of idiocy,
revolving around Maybachs, Phantoms,
and that..

"N****r's can't say shit to Flo Rida"

Because?

"That n****r BALLIN'"

:/

My party has been pooped..

:(

I'm sitting cross legged..

Teary eyed..

Bottom lip trembling..

Sporting a ball bag that could
give the impression that i have
contracted elephantitus..

An an erection that is in full remission..

What's goin' on bigtime

Another brain-draining 24 hours..

 Throughout this sordid day i have felt urges to place hands an feet on motherfuckers..

"BIP BOP BAP BID BDDDDDDD-BUNG BING BOP BIG BAP"

But no..

As i sit cross legged on my prayer rug,
i am in the position of daily revision and contemplation.

Tim to examine my behavior and how these
countless confrontations have come to light..

-How can i avoid said confrontations?

-What can be gained from today?

-How do i proceed from here?

Well..

I need some time on my own.

No distractions..

No interactions..

I need to withdraw from the circles
that i have familiarized myself with and spend
some time working on building up my discipline again..

No finger to point..

No one to blame..

No problemo..

John Legend is not from London

Sometimes i try to picture what it's going to
be like when i am released.

I think about what i will look like,
where i will be, the clothes i might be wearing..

An how i will be looking at the world..

I've met a lot of people since i went down,
outside of the prison but also inside of this place
and it'd be nice to see them again one day..

As it will be a completely new setting and circumstances,
sometimes when i am alone in my cell i stare at the ceiling
and try to picture how life for me will be..

Walking around,
clothed in some very simple but clean cut garments,
i imagine myself travelling to different places and trying
to meet as many people as i can along the way, whether they
speak the same language as me or not doesn't matter,
an i say this as some of my closest friends in here speak
about five words of English..

I think about travelling a lot.

Whether it's on a train or even on a bike.

I actually HAD a BMX bike back in England,
two of them if i remember correctly, they were pretty bashed up
but the frames were still in relatively good condition but sadly not
good enough to sell as i..by that i mean got someone to..list them
on eBay or some similar bullshit website but got no takers!!

When i was living in Brooklyn shortly before my arrest,
i was in the process of getting a bike..An by that i mean i saw someone
who had a bike and offered to buy it but after he said yes each day i was
so blazed that i pranged myself into thinking knocking on someone's door
to purchase a bicycle was some kind of herculean affair so bunned it off!!

:/

I'd like to get a new bike at some point.

When i leave here i will be doing so without any serious
responsibilities or people to depend on, so i have a pretty
clean slate as far as what i can pursue or do with my time,
having no real responsibilities also gives me the opportunity
to take my life in a direction that before would've seemed
either very far fetched or logistically impossible, so all in all
there are innumerable amounts of things i could and would
like to do when i get out!!

As my sentencing draws closer I've been thinking
about all of this.

I think about my parents..

It goes without saying that this ordeal has not been easy
on my mother and father, an it's been almost four years since I've
seen them or spent any time with them.

Ok when i was first arrested my dad travelled here to see me,
but considering he wasn't allowed in the building and i only got
a glimpse of him from the street below..

I don't QUITE think that counts!!

Last time i saw them i was in Turkey,
considering things didn't quite go to plan after that,
or at least did not go to MY plan, it's important for me
to spend a good amount of time with my parents to let
them know I'm not completely screwed up mentally after
being in here...

By the way if you're reading this..

I'm doing fine..

xx

Doing a little bit of planning for the future,
there's no problem with that, especially if it's actually
planning not just putting together a lovely image of freedom
and having it whirl around in your brain on repeat followed by
some Brady bunch tune and a load of birds landing on your shoulders
on some next Ace Ventura tip..

If i convince myself that when i get out it's going to be heaven
it leads to frustration and actually a lot of anger and animosity
towards my current living space...

An if outside is heaven..

"We have fantasies about career, romance, friendships and intimacy.
We are so full of fantasies about the past and the future. Often we don't want
to let go of these fantasies because we fear that doing so means giving up on life.
But that's not how it works. In truth, unrealistic expectations tarnish our appreciation
of life and weigh down the buoyancy of the present moment" - Lama Surya Das