MyTimeToBlog
I'm shaking my head, learning that Gee was under investigation after talking with me about movies an hour ago. It all came from Taz running into segregation, kissing his boy (gay lover) through the tray slot. The warden saw something on the surveillance cameras and now my movie buddy is in segregation under investigation. We're all like this is just another day in prison...and when was commissary coming?
Crazy things happen regularly, and nothing stopped our priorities: working on getting free, recreation, showers, chow, commissary, phone time and what's on TV. The life of an incarcerated man.
I'm in the day room, relaxing on a plastic chair, with one leg propped on another. The dusty fan tickled my skin as I vibed to Meek Mill's ghetto tales on his Expensive Pain album. His picturesque word play had me exploring Philadelphia. It's better than watching Steve dig in the trash for empty soda bottles.
Chow, I burped that away, tasting those disgusting egg patties. Man, come on commissary. My mind tried to depart from prison, but then one, two, three sagging jeans sauntered too close to me. I've seen more men's asses than I care to count. Sad. But these were men aged 24 to 60.
There were a few men corralled around a new 2000-piece puzzle. They weren't even speaking, just studying the table as they found the right puzzle piece to connect with another. This was their 20th puzzle that they placed together.
I'm a few feet from Tim, who was painting a pair of slip-on shoes. He was designing them with Snoopy playing a saxophone. You couldn't talk to him while immersed in his artwork. One time Cypher approached Tim, asking what a booth officer said, and that had Tim messing up a shirt he was working on. He stepped to Cypher in his cell and snapped out at him. That's why I'm a few feet from him, still enjoying Meek Mill.
In the cut was Oscar, sitting alone, hurting. His brother, of Mexican descent, let his visa expire. Now he's about to be deported, and Oscar would be the only one from his family in America. I headed over and gave him a hug.
There's this weirdo hippy type that looked like he sold more drugs than a little bit, and smoked as much. He brushed his long, silky black hair constantly, as he shuffled around the day room in sandals. His smile was always around, and he shared it as he excused himself, getting out of your way.
I peered up, finding DeDe, a transgender that told me I offended him for turning the day room's TV to a man and woman making love. I didn't apologize because I'm the cool guy that would talk to him. So, I get the complaints when others that did what I did wouldn't get a whisper from him. Well, he's strolling around with a long white T-shirt like a nightgown. Mike flipped out and told him to get in the cell, or he would have a problem. DeDe raced into the cell, then placed the blanket up and blocked his cell from prying eyes.
Muhammad was carrying his prayer rug. He grabbed the wet floor sign and placed it on the floor before his prayer rug. He and a few of the Muslims were about to pray. I scooted my chair up, giving them room to pray. I enjoyed seeing them do that, because it's showing their commitment to Allah. Plus, the men in our unit knew that this was a peaceful place, not stress out about the nonsense that came with being incarcerated.
You had a bunch of kids that didn't do anything but sing aloud rap songs all damn day. That's why they stayed in their corner, and the rest of us did the same. Compromise, absolutely. I would rather have them sing during the day than be caught up doing something stupid to keep them incarcerated...which was around every corner of the prison system.
We all had our antics. Shoot, I'm using two chairs for selfish reasons. Still, nobody was bothering me, and I did the same when I used the microwave--after cleaning it up when the last user didn't. Compromise... even though what they did was disgusting and showed zero respect.
Joe Dirt sauntered in with a bag of portable fans. This was the ultimate hustler. He had the gray mullet, slim build and penitentiary tattoos. He waved to get my attention. I removed my earbuds, and he showed me two bars of soap. He wanted a strawberry Kool-Aid from me. I never gave them out because I made taffy with them...but two bars of soap for one Kool-Aid, I'm breaking my rule. I climbed those metal stairs for my cell and gave up one of my Kool-Aids...because I knew I could get a honey bun for one of them from Benny and still come up on a bar of soap (the soap bars cost $1.11 and the Kool-Aid was 50 cents).
My former crew of yard workers ambled into the unit, sweating and mouthing to my stuffed ears blasting Chainsmokers' "Closer" that it was hot outside. I'm dancing in my chair, grinning. That was when Vontae started talking crap to me. I removed my earbuds and told him I would take him into his cell and ball him up. He laughed, as did I; his uncle asked me to make sure he was OK. He was, and I returned to dancing in the chair to "Closer."
I changed up the vibe again, listening to Joyner Lucas. He had a song titled "Fall Slowly" with Ashanti. My mind was calm in a chaotic world. Well, for the entirety of the song. Chucky wanted me to break down a quote in a book he was reading.
Viktor Frankl's Yes To Life. I handed it to him after a discussion on bettering one's life. The book took his mind out of here, and I loved that. So I broke down the quote for him, handed the book back to him, then Chris Brown said, "Look at Me Now."
Prison, it is what it is. Meaning, today I'm enjoying myself as music took me away from all the craziness of it. Thank you for that, because Tom was talking to himself again as he moseyed over to the ice machine.
Yup, just another day in prison.