MyTimeToBlog
I stirred from my rest, hearing the annoying loud whistle of a correction officer (CO) that ordered us to stand for institutional count. I did, as did my celly. The morning rays crept through the barred window, showcasing that a new day had arrived.
Breakfast was these cornmeal pancakes that reminded you of sand being chewed on. I avoided them by the blessing of a friend offering me his Common Fare tray; the pancakes were made without cornmeal. I devoured them, then guzzled down a cup of milk.
On my walk back to my housing unit, I ran into True. He and I always informed one another of the latest albums on Jpay. I gave him my update, and he did the same. We fist bumped our goodbyes and I marched into the day room.
The day room was disgusting. Think of children spilling food on the floor and stepping on it over and over. This was during a scabies outbreak. Mop buckets had dirty water in them since last night. The water fountain was coffee-stained, tables were littered with food, and the trash cans were overflowing. I began cleaning, then stopped. I did that way too much, especially when there were men paid to clean up. I groaned inwardly.
The heat began to make me sweat. I stripped out of my garments, for shorts and a tank top. I grabbed my books as the day room became alive with men working out. I took my post at a stainless steel table that the dusty fans cooled off.
I worked for an hour writing letters to advocates, reading Robert Greene's Daily Laws, and studying math equations for the upcoming college semester. As I'm doing this, the weirdos were making their rounds.
You had this sixty-year-old black grandpa who sagged his jeans, showing his boxers off. He was loud and obnoxious because he felt this was the right way to get attention. We even had this Aussie who pranced around, eating from the trash that we discarded. There were more of them, but as I tried forgetting them, this gold mouth brother with rotting teeth choked my breath with questions about what was for lunch?
My morning routine was completed--and I retreated to the Batcave (my cell) to check the movie channels. Around 9 AM, they usually change them. We had the complete series of Supergirl and two seasons of The Lioness. They're must-watch for us, but they weren't on. I exited my cell, but was ordered to lockdown.
The entire housing unit came alive with complaints: "Why are we locking down?" "This is BS!" "I bet it's them intake idiots." Even as those complaints were launched into the air, those working outside the building were ordered back to their cells as well. This was bad.
I climbed onto my bunk and started watching TV. My celly raced in and grabbed his shower bag. He shared that someone was stabbed and rushed to the hospital. I groaned again. The last time this occurred, we were on lockdown for a few weeks...in the middle of the summer. I started sweating immediately.
The heat cooked the walls. I had two fans on me, and neither worked enough to my liking. So I covered the window with an orange net bag. That blocked the window, darkening the Batcave.
We remained in the cell for a few hours. I headed out and hopped on the phone. I asked what the 5 things you smiled about today were. I needed to get my mind off this madness. As I did, I learned 5 things that made me smile as well. The call ended and I returned to my crazy reality.
When I joined my crew, complaints flowed like the sweat on my brow. They were upset that we didn't get outside recreation. They spoke on the weirdos that weren't showering or cleaning up the day room. I slithered away and put on headphones.
Again, the dusty fan itched my skin as I was serenaded by Teddy Swims: God Went Crazy. How right was Teddy? I began thinking about my lady, my queen. She and I had something magical, but she was so goofy...as was I. I kept singing Teddy's hook over and over...until I was waved down. My headphones came off, and I'm being told we're going on lockdown. I'm groaning once more.
I climbed those metal steps for my bunk. I lay down and those fans dried the sweat my body constantly produced. My eyes were closed and I was listening to God Went Crazy for the umpteenth time. My skin, coolish. I'm in a place of peace. That lasted twenty minutes, because my celly informed me we're off of lockdown again.
I climbed down from my bunk and marched out into the day room. We were being called for chow. I dressed and headed to the chow hall. I ate a dry bun with a soy burger. My table guest started griping about a gay couple sitting across from us. He began making up a conversation about who was on top and who was on the bottom. I shook my head and made the trek back to my housing unit.
We locked down again. This time for institutional count. I made a shower bag because I needed to cleanse my body of all the dried-up sweat I accumulated throughout the day. That's why when the door slid open, I hurried to the shower stalls...then stopped.
Hair. Mounds of it littered the floor. As did dried soap suds that splattered the stainless steel walls. I hung my shower bag on the hook, then raced to my cell for a spray bottle of bleach. Once I cleaned that crap up, I undressed and climbed under the boiling hot water that I jerked away from.
I groaned again.
This was my incarceration blues...on a Tuesday.