Please Pray With Me

My entire life I have been well aware of the power of prayer and what it can do in people's lives. For those of you that aren't spiritual or religious, this may sound kinda strange, but just bear with me please. My parents, as long as I have been their son, have prayed. They prayed for things they wanted or needed to happen, and prayed for guidance in their lives in certain things for our family.

And although I haven't always been open to it myself in the past, looking back I can say that even though there were periods of time where we went without certain things, God seemed to always provide for my family. Because they prayed. And people answered. My parents would put a request to God, and God would put that request on the heart of one of his faithful servants, and they would help my family where they could.

Now I understand as you should that prayer only works within reason and God's will for us. I may need money, but if I pray to God to bust me down with $15,000,000 in cash, I shouldn't expect to win the lottery tomorrow. But what I am asking of you that do pray, and also those of you that would like to, help me in praying and putting some things on God's heart so that if it's in his will and sees fit to bless and provide me with any of them in any capacity, that it should be so.

1. Pray that God will help me find gainful employment when the time is right. A vocation that would pay enough for me to meet any bills or rent I may have in a timely fashion and also be something I grow to enjoy. Let's face it, no matter how nice a guy or fast a learner or hard a worker I am, to most employers I am just a convicted felon/drug offender who just got out of jail into an already suffering economy. So definitely pray that I can find or be provided a job.
2. Please pray that I can find a place to live that is comfortable and affordable and an environment that is healthy for me. I will have at least a few weeks after I am released before I have to find a place. But pray that while I am floating around that I am able to find some good roommates or a single room somewhere or whatever the case may be. And that wherever it is that I land is exactly where God wants me to be.
3. The third thing I am reeeally going to need when I get out, so the two aforementioned things can work, is a car. A cheap car, an old car, a free car! I don't really need to be stylin' and what not, as long as this car can get me from where I'm living to where I'm working and then back again. Please pray that God can provide me with not only the car, the means to purchase and maintain the car. God has provided my family with cars before, and I have faith that if it is in His will to do so for me, then it shall be done. So instead of a car just pray that God provides "transportation," because I am pretty open, be it a motorcycle or unicycle.
4. Like I said before, I am not expecting to be made a millionaire overnight or anything. But God tells us to pray for the things we feel we need and if he agrees and it's in his will we shall receive them. Well I know I need some money, bad. And whether it be some great windfall or just finding a couple of bucks on the street, I ask that you join me in praying for God to provide me with what I will need to get by. And if He sees fit to bless me with more, than so be it. If He sees fit to have me suffer hardships past my time here to gain wisdom from it, than so be it.
   
5. Please pray that God helps me to be with the people that are going to be good for me when I am released. That I don't fall back into old habits. And that I am able to surround myself with the people that are going to build me up and encourage me in the things that will be good for me, and not let me backslide. That God can help me help myself in my recovery. And that he would help steer me clear of the temptations that led me to jail.

And you know what? I think that if we all pray for these things then I should be all right. I have faith in God's provision for His children, and I have faith that if it's God's will to help me with these things we all pray for then he will oblige.

I am so worried and anxious to be leaving here. I know I want to feel ready, but I feel excited and nervous, and happy and scared. It's getting down to the line here people! I am going to be home on January 19th! So I deeply appreciate any and all of you who help me in praying for these things I have mentioned here. And I look forward to seeing the results of these prayers in my life after my release. And anything else you think to pray for me, feel free to do so by all means. I am truly blessed in many ways, but I can always use more prayer.

Thanks everybody!

Tattoos

One thing that continually perplexes me about people you generally see more often here than anywhere else, is the face tattoo. I mean a permanent tattoo directly applied to the face. Which is not as common as the neck tattoo, which surprisingly you see quite often.

I have not had the opportunity, well that's a lie, really I should say I have not had the courage to interview someone with a face or neck tattoo about their decision. So I am going to have to make this a two parter. The truth of the matter is a person I consider a good friend now who I had the extreme pleasure of getting to know while at Musick is basically known by everyone at the facility because of his outrageously prominent facial tattoos. I just never really noticed them after awhile because of how great a person he turned out to be in spite of his initial scary appearance. But I have wondered, even long before I was taken into custody: what would prompt someone to put a permanent tattoo on their face or neck?

I have tattoos as a lot of you may know. But all of my tattoos are easily concealed by a long sleeve shirt, because none of them even go past my elbow. I did that because no matter how cool I think tattoos are, I don't know if somebody I am going to have to impress someday isn't such a fan. That's why it's heartbreaking me to see young people with tattoos on their neck and face. Because it speaks to me that they have given up on a part of themselves succeeding in anything they try their hand at. Not to say that you are worthless or robbed of ambition indefinitely if you are tattooed on your face and neck, but in some cases yes.

Let's face it, there are few mainstream, legitimate careers in which you can have tattoos on your face and still find great monetary success:

• rapper
  
• rock musician
• body guard
• bouncer
• tattoo artist, of course

But every other vocation that would allow someone with a fully tattooed face to participate is probably not one with a direct interface with people all day. Most face and neck tattoos (in jail that I have seen anyway) are used to display love for a child or girlfriend or to showcase devotion to a gang or neighborhood. They are not as often used for artistic expression.

I had a bunk mate who slept above me for a couple weeks during my first month in custody who had "Santa Ana" tattooed across his forehead with various other street names and initials and "in memory ofs" about his face and neck. This is what gives me the feeling that somewhere along the way, this person may have given up on himself in some way.

He may be a hero to his gang and in his neighborhood, but he can't really go anywhere else. Anywhere else he is just a freak gang member with tattoos all over his face. To police, he is just a suspect, not a person. To employers, he's a risk, not a worker.

This is a subject you will see me come back to from time to time, especially after I have formally conducted some interviews and stuff. For whatever reason I find it fascinating, how someone can get teardrops tattooed underneath their eyes going down their face, or a big gun on the side of their neck with a big red lipstick mark tattooed on the other side of their neck.

I don't know. Stay tuned.

The List

I have decided on a few things since I have been in jail, especially since I have arrived to the Central Men's Jail in Santa Ana for my last month. I want to write some of these things so that I might have them to call upon later. Also I've listed them for those who may wish to help me (to any degree possible) accomplish some of these goals within the first few months following my release.

Some are things I will be doing during my last month here in custody. And some are things I would like to accomplish shortly after my release. Some are things I must accomplish in the long range after my release.

I understand the danger in creating such a list, that it could someday result in a "list of things I failed to accomplish." Though I am fairly confident in my own abilities and on the kindness and encouragement of others, I also have the utmost faith in my God's grace in blessing. So I am almost certain that between those variables, the things that are supposed to happen, will. And with that we begin our list.

1. For my last month in custody I am not going to shave, and will sport a beard with short hair upon my release. Here at Main jail they do not require me to shave daily as they did at Musick, so I might as well right?
2. For my last month I am going to eat as little bread as possible. And I'll do my best to cut back on potatoes, rice, and other carb heavy food to try and lose some excess fat that I will undoubtedly gain in this "cell of inactivity."
3. I will for my last month work out at least two times a week. I will do every exercise that can be done alone in the space I am given until my release.
4. I am going to attend an NA meeting my first night of release and make it a point to attend no less than two per week thereafter.
5. I should, following my release, be pleased to rent a movie version of any of the books I have read (Of Mice and Men, Lord of the Flies, Silence of the Lambs, The Count of Monte Cristo) and enjoy the act of relaxing and watching them all with family or friends.
6. I should, following my release, like to attend a theme park, i.e. Knott's Berry Farm, Disneyland, Six Flags, etc.
7. At least explore (if not fully investigate) the possibilities and options surrounding my relocation to a different city (Hollywood, West Los Angeles area) and/or possibly a different state (Oregon, New York) with the intent of gaining a different perspective on life and finding new inspiration for writing.
8. No matter how many dead calories I may take on as a result, and no matter how sick I may feel upon its completion, I desire to order a Cold Stone Creamery cone filled with all assortments of sweets and goodies and wholeheartedly attempt to consume it in its entirety.
9. I would like to in the months following my release to either win, happen upon, or anonymously be given a fair amount of money to assist me in my plans that have henceforth been mentioned. Now I fully understand the chances of this occurrence taking place in any fashion to be slim, or nonexistent. But one must at all times keep one's head up and trust that should it be the Lord's will to receive such a blessing, then it shall be so.
10. I should like very much, upon my release to enjoy the pleasant and dignified company of a young lady to accompany me to dinner, a movie, and possibly dancing or a quaint walk/stroll through a park. I would prefer her to be able to hold a reasonably intelligent conversation (although the inability is not absolutely a deal breaker) be nice, and pretty, and kind hearted enough to spend time with a man who has not been in the company of a lady for four months and may come off as a blundering fool. I am not alluding to any desire to seek romance or any such fancy, but just simply to enjoy the honest and innocent company of a girl.
11. I should very much like to spend some time with my father's mother and my mother's parents in the cities they live in the first few weeks following my release. I have missed them all dearly and am anxious to see them and catch up on recent events with them. I should also very much like to spend some time with other relatives on my father's side that live in adjoining states. Most likely I will have to wait until they are out this way for I fear I still have restrictions on my travel by probation. But if at all possible, I would very much like to see them as well.
12. I would like to continue writing as much as I can. And branch out into new, different avenues of expression: books, screenplays, cartoons, etc. I would also like to challenge myself to explore the arts of painting, sculpture, and most of all, music. I would like to further my education in hopes of becoming even more well-rounded, multi-faceted, and interesting.
13. I would like to get a dog. A medium-sized one that is good natured and does not leave a lot of hair about. And if not a dog, a rabbit or bunny.
14. I have a burning desire, in the months and years and decades following my release, to dance. To dance as much and as often to as many different types of music as possible, in as many different places as possible, in front of and with as many different people as possible. I want to slow dance, dance slow, dance till I perspire, dance until I'm dizzy. I believe my specialty is to dance in a silly manner, which I will be doing a whole lot of. Pretty much, I just wanna...I just wanna dance!
15. One thing that I pray and desire for myself in the life that I will lead once I am released from this jail very soon, is that God may give me humility and patience, and drive, and that he should see fit to have my faith in him grow more and more each day. That God would bless me with wisdom through my harrowing experiences, and that I might be able to grow in and develop these gifts to better help me build the life I desire and that God desires for me. That God would plant in me the strength and patience to endure suffering I may meet in the unconventional life I will lead. That God would give me the wisdom to deal with finding commercial success and fame as part of his will. And humility and patience if it does not occur on the timeline I would like. When I am released, I would like to for the rest of my life, pray unto my God, and cry out to him for his guidance, and receive his will and blessing for me.

Now while I listed 15 different desires, understand that I have been locked away for quite some time now, and there are many, many more than just these. These are simply the ones I thought to list. I understand some are very doable, almost to a degree of silliness. They are still very dear to me as far as my devotion to their completion and I take them just as seriously as any other desire I have expressed. As to the more difficult wants and desires, I have nothing but faith that through hard work, devotion, and faith these great feats will be just as much attainable goals as watching movies or eating Cold Stone.

My reasoning for listing and sharing these with you all, as I have stated, is so that you all my feel free to offer help to me in these matters in whatever manner you see fit, even if it's nothing more than praying for me or giving me a "thumb's up" from time to time.

So thank you all for reading this, and for all your love and support that I pray will continue even after I am released. Thank you all and good-bye.

Christmas Day

Written December 25, 2008

Well...today is Christmas. I am still in jail. I have done pretty well to not get too depressed today. That is kinda why I have been dreading writing today. I don't want to write too much because it will cause me to think more about today, thus becoming depressed. I have known all day that as soon as I started writing, I would inevitably write more that I wanted to. That's part of the reason why I have done everything else I possibly could today (which isn't much, believe me) before I finally sat down to write today's entry.

I will complete The Count of Monte Cristo today which took me a whole four days to read. I will continue where I left off reading The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway. By the time I leave here in January, I will have read every short story ever written by Ernest Hemingway and Mark Twain, and will have completed about 17-20 books in their entirety.

But, oh yeah, it's Christmas. Well what can I say? I am in jail! It sucks. I wish I wasn't here. There is nothing about being here that I wouldn't trade to be with my family. It's the same deal today as it was last month on Thanksgiving. I tried my hardest to not think about it and just sleep through it, but that only works so long. I have to think about it. I have to remember that the only reason I am here and not with my family is because of my drug abuse problem.

I have a problem with drugs.

It hurts me to say it, it hurts me to write it, it hurts me to think about it. But if I don't remind myself on days like this, Christmas, that I have already lost so much to drugs, and the only "promise" in using drugs is that I will lose more, than I may forget. I wish I could forget parts of my life. I wish I could forget things I have done. Geez, I wish I could forget the four months I spent in jail once I leave, and to a degree I can.

But if I don't remember some things, things like today, things like my Dad's and brothers' birthdays spent here. Things like Thanksgiving. Things like the look on my mother's face as I walk into a jail visiting room so she can see her son for thirty minutes. If I don't remember these things than I can just as easily say they didn't matter or didn't have an impact.

If I forget about the pain then I learn nothing. I may (again) forget that I have a drug problem down the line and wind up back here or dead.

I can't miss another Christmas because of my drug use. I can't do this again. I have to remember that even though I am the one sitting in an 8'x10' cell without my family, hungry, lonely, with nobody to talk to, (except Rico who is like talking to a mumbling piece of wood) wishing I was with my family, I am not the only one who my actions affect. I may have suffered, but it's selfish of me to think I am the only one going through some kind of hardship.

This is already way more than I wanted to write, and now I am upset and about to cry and I am still stuck here. So yeah, they gave us a good lunch today with pineapple ham, breadrolls, some kinda candied yam type something, vegetables and a piece of dutch apple pie. It was good enough to still leave you hungry later.

I am going to start in on the Hemingway after I read the last 20-30 pages of The Count of Monte Cristo. Then I'll try and sleep once the lights go out. Merry Christmas everybody. One more day down, one more day closer to home.



P.S. And if you tell anyone that I was about to cry I am going to be pretty pissed. So that's our secret okay?

Christmas Eve in the Clink

Written December 24, 2008

Well today is Christmas Eve, and I am still here in jail. The dull surroundings and lack of color or anything festive has kinda made it easier to forget that it is in fact Christmas Eve.

They (the deputies we never see) were nice enough to give us "outdoor recreation" time today for about an hour. "Outdoor rec" time here consists of any inmates that are interested being ushered into a sort of racquetball court concrete area with sky above, while everyone kicks around a volleyball or throws racquetballs or stands off to one side and talks. It was nice to get fresh air, but the little time spent there really reminds me how cooped up I am here, and how good I had it at Musick.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is in fact real jail. But in spite of this, I must remain thankful.

During outdoor rec I had a chance to catch up with my friend Constantine whom I previously knew from the farm. He informed me how it was that he came to be here at Main, and I in turn shared my story with him.

Prior to his incarceration Constantine had some sort of brain surgery. After bumping his head a couple times at the farm, he was experiencing some headaches and requested a CAT scan. Well, little did he know that to receive a CAT scan, one has to be moved to Main. Ooops. So they moved him to Main.

Shortly thereafter, tensions flared up between "the brothers" (African Americans, Constantine's race "car") and "the Southsiders." Constantine is a smart and peaceful young man, and wanted nothing to do with this beef. But as a result of the mounting tension it "popped off" in the barracks where he was housed. Basically a riot took place. Long story short, the people involved received new charges and were rolled out of the barracks. Constantine was rolled out and put into the two-man cells or "mods" as they are called here.

In comparison my story of how I arrived in the mods was not so exciting.

Yeah...I like write a blog from here, and I guess it got pretty popular, and the deputies didn't like that or something, and said that because of my "growing celebrity status" my safety was at risk at the farm and they moved me here.

I have plenty more thoughts on that scenario we will touch on in a later entry, but every time I say it and write it, it sounds more and more like a crock of shit. Excuse my language. Still it was nice to be able to talk to someone I knew from before I got here and catch up.

Then we came in and ate lunch shortly after. "Rico" appeared upset at me after I expressed the urgency of him brushing his teeth. I mean people, I've been here with him what, five days? His toothbrush was still in the wrapper! Oh hell to the nooo no no! His breath is straight hummin'! Apparently he is just not a fan of hygiene. He finally took his first shower that I know of yesterday.

So he got upset when I said he HAD to brush his teeth today. And then even more so when I suggested that he move his plate as to not spill any thing, again. See, it's hard to really grasp what I am about to say without seeing Rico in the flesh. You know how some people with Down syndrome look? Their hands are all twisted and frail looking? Well that's Rico. So he spills stuff. He gets all upset first when I say he needs to brush his teeth, then he gets more upset and moves to his bed to eat when I suggest he move his plate from the edge so he doesn't spill anything again with his retarded ass hands. And then what does he do? He spills his milk off his bed and gets even more upset.

It's like trying to look after somebody's 7-year-old child. And mind you, I would feel bad, but all his bran damage is self-inflicted. His drug-addled brain will no doubt see even more abuse by his own hand upon his release. Since I spend 22 hours out of the day with the guy, it's kinda hard to feel bad for him.

After he started getting upset at me I just said screw you retard and started writing. Then we had dayroom at about noon and I got a chance to speak to every member of my immediate family currently living in California: my mother, father, both my little brothers and my sister-in-law. They were all getting together for Christmas Eve, so it was nice to be able to speak to all of them.

Although I have been trying so hard to not think about my family and how much I miss them and how it's Christmas Eve and all, I've had that John Lennon song run through my head: Happy Christmas (War is Over). He sings "and so this is Christmas." I can't stop thinking about how this really is Christmas 2008. I don't ever get a chance to do this year or this Christmas over. That's it. And so this is Christmas.

That's why it's so very important to ensure through my actions that this never happens again.

I am going to lay down and read after I check another day, Christmas Eve, off of my little calendar. Maybe I'll write my grandparents again.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Toffee Peee-nutz! Yee-haw!

Written December 23, 2008

Well it is two days until Christmas. I don't think Santa has access to a heavily secured facility such as this, so it's safe to say I will not be getting any presents this year.

Four days here, "Rico's" soap and toothbrush remain untouched.

Last night I had a really great conversation with my mother during our dayroom period.

Let me explain first about our dayroom. We are allowed two hours out of the day in which we can shower, watch TV, make phone calls, play cards, etc. They only let four or five cells out at a time into the dayroom, and it usually goes by race. The times in which the different cell groups are released into the dayroom is on a rotating schedule. On Sunday our group had 7am - 9am, Monday 9pm - 11pm, and so forth.

So last night we had dayroom between 9pm - 11 pm, and after the great conversation I had with my Mom, toward the end or our dayroom period, we received a new arrival into a cell on our block, who just so happened to be a young man I knew from the farm. It was exciting to see someone that I knew and liked, and we got to talk for the last few minutes of dayroom before we had to go back to our rooms. I am still not quite sure why he was rolled out of the farm and brought here, but I am sure I will find out as soon as I get dayroom today and get a chance to talk to him.

I know for a fact that we don't have dayroom at the same time, but I can still talk to him through his cell door. I also finally get my commissary today . Commissary is a little order form you fill out three times a week if you have money on your books so you can get extra food, stuff like pillows, stamps, envelopes, paper, pencils, soap, coffee and so on. I have been without these things since I got here because of an all too common practice in jail.

You see, a lot of times when you get "rolled out" (sent to another facility) it is the mouse of your barracks who puts your things together to be transferred over. With you not being there it's easy for some of your things to just not make it over to you. For example, food items, pillows, stamps, pretty much everything I just mentioned. The food items I don't really mind, because I wasn't going to eat most of them anyway, except for the tuna packets and the toffee peanuts! Everybody knew that I loved those things! If you were going to take my food fine, just leave me my pillow at least, but above all, just leave me the tuna packets and toffee peanuts! For the love of Balto, c'mon!

But yeah, today, I will get a new pillow and everything I will need to finish out my last month here. And you can bet your sweet bippy I am gettin' me some toffee peee-nutz! Yee-haw!

Man, I just realized what a pathetic low my life has reached when one of the few things I have to really look forward to is getting some toffee peanuts on commissary. I need to get out of here bad. I need to get out of here, relax for a week or two and find a job, then as quickly as I can find a place to live. Then get to work on making some things happen.

This plan may change completely upon my release depending on what avenues of opportunity open up to me. But that's the beautiful and scary thing about getting outta here that I am looking forward to...the choices! The freedom! The possibilities and opportunities! The toffee peanuts!

I may write a little more later on, but for now, I am going to check off another day on my little calendar, lay down, and read another 100 pages in the Count of Monte Cristo and eagerly await my toffee peanuts, and my chance to speak to my family.

Till later.

Rico's Story*

Written late night, December 22, 2008

*Not his real name.

Rico, upon returning from court, was obviously feeling better, and saw fit to regale me with his life story. It is a harrowing tale that he has given me permission to share with you now.

He was first taken away from his parents when he was two-years-old, because they were responsible for child starvation, child negligence, and child abuse. He spent the rest of his adolescent life between various attempts with his parents to have their children back and different group homes and foster care centers.

His parents would never be able to keep him any longer than a year here and there. The same with his three younger siblings, J, V, and M. He began using drugs at age 8 in 1991 when methamphetamine was "cleaner" according to him.

He says that he would run away and use meth until he was taken into custody and he'd clean up for a few months. When he was 13, he was seduced into a sexual relationship with the head of a child services program he was involved in. This relationship would last on a physical level for almost ten years. She still sees him from time to time. She is an affluent marriage and family counselor now who gives him money here and there and will put him up in motels when he is down and out.

I have all her specifics, but she will remain anonymous in this entry.

Rico started using other drugs such as marijuana, coke, pills, and heroin at the age of 17. At age 20 he started drinking heavily with a girl he was in love with who drank heavily. That pretty much brings us up to speed with today.

His life started in a vicious cycle of abuse: his mother would beat him because his father beat her, and his father would beat her because she would beat him.

Foster homes, orphanages, child welfare centers, child placement homes, juvenile hall, his parents. Drugs, abuse, more drugs, new drugs, more abuse, new abuse.

He is now 25 years old, and has been using drugs for 17 years. That's more than twice as long as he didn't use drugs. Yeah, I kinda feel bad about some of the things I wrote about him before I had heard his story. It doesn't change the fact that his breath is atrocious and he hasn't showered or brushed his teeth since I have known him. But I kinda understand a little better why he is such a retard. And believe me, what you just read is the abridged version of his tale, which I cannot share in detail with you because I intend to retell it in either stage form or screen. He'll never know either. I had him sign a waiver I made up for him. Dunce. I am going to have him played by Efren Ramirez (pictured) who played "Pedro" in Napoleon Dynamite because he resembles Rico.

That's enough for today.

Let Me Introduce "Rico"*

Written on December 22, 2008

Well today is Monday, and I am going to be in the cell by myself for the better part of the day. "Rico," my roommate of sorts, was required to go to court today and will not be back until later on today. While I understand very little about my cell mate, the more time I spend with him the more I realize that I possess no real desire to know anything about him at all. It may be just the close quarters I keep with the young man, but as far as I can tell he is a detestable waste of what very well could have been a fully functioning, healthy, and prosperous member of today's working population. But upon our first lengthy conversation, I quickly realized that almost all hope of that becoming a reality is lost.

This is his fourth time in custody for the same crime! Possession of meth and being under the influence of meth seem to be the charges he doesn't vary too much from. Oh did I mention, it's the fourth time, for the same charges, this year! 2008! This will be the third Christmas, in a row, that he has spent behind bars.

I have grown somewhat sympathetic to certain people in here that are generally good people and deserve help, but Rico is not one of those people. His drug-addled mind has him believing that he is somehow a "victim" (I said that not him; I don't think he knows words that big, so I helped) to the system, and that it's "messed up" that he has to be in jail, again.

I have not even attempted to help him see where he could be going wrong and how him taking responsibility for his actions and seeking help for his drug problem may result in him getting to spend a Christmas out of jail. I don't know for sure whether he even possesses the general intelligence to grasp such a notion. And truthfully, I feel a little safer knowing that he is not out there on the same streets as my family and loved ones. Although I would rather him not be in the same cell as I am, it's a sacrifice I am willing to make for my people. And all this heartache and headache because of me writing this same little blog that I will not give up for anything.

Oh yeah! I will have you know that Rico--good ol' Rico--hasn't showered once since we got here. Nor has he brushed his teeth. And to make matters worse for me, he is on the bottom bunk. All day long, as he sleeps, his gastrointestinal eruptions can be heard with power to take fright of. And the aftermath of such eruptions, will always, without fail, rise to my level on the top bunk. And since it is such a small cell (about 8'x10') there is absolutely no way to escape my aromatic bunkee's wrath. All I can do is put my head under my covers and hold my breath, hope that it passes soon and doesn't come back soon.

And have you ever known someone who smacks while they eat? Their mouth makes a disgusting little smacking noise because they apparently never learned how to chew properly with their mouth closed? Well that's Rico my friends without fail. This is one of my most least favorite things to be around, one of my biggest pet peeves, and makes me want to cry out to God and beg that he not let another generation slip past without learning this simple etiquette.

Every meal, if he can make a smacking noise while eating it, he will. If he can make a slurping noise during its consumption, he will. Even food that, surely there could be no way that mastication could be audible, it is! His mouth made noises while he ate--ready for this--a cough drop! How?! Why?! And not quiet noises, loud noises.

Soon I will include a typical conversation between me and Rico so you will understand exactly how bad it really is. Until then, I am going to check off another day on my little calendar, and go lay down and read. Good-bye.


*Not his real name.

"Well yeah, this sucks!"

Written December 21, 2008

Well it is now probably about halfway through my second day here in the Main Jail facility and I have FULLY realized how very very good I had it at Musick. I have basically fought to stay asleep today for as long as I could. I only get up to eat breakfast and lunch.

I spoke briefly with my parents yesterday during the two hour period in which we are allowed to use the phones, and they said they were coming to visit me today. Naturally when I was called for my visit I thought I would find my old parents waiting for me. But instead I had the pleasant surprise of a visit from my longtime friend Krystle. So very nice.

She and I have been friends for a number of years and have been writing each other for awhile. She was planning on visiting me awhile back but her work schedule made it hard. So when she saw the address change on the blog and realized I had been moved she took the day off from work to come here and see me. She is like a really cool sister close in age. It was so good to see her. I told here in detail about the chain of events that brought me here to Main. And what it's like here as opposed to the farm. We talked about my family and friends that miss me. It was great. Plus it got me out of the cell for a little bit, since I slept through dayroom today. It was cool.

I only have about 29 days left here. Here with Rico, my detoxing cellmate, who is coming down off of Meth. I will talk about him more in later entries.

I am going to lay down now and read my book until last count, then go back to sleep. Tomorrow, if Rico goes to court, I will attempt a workout in the cell. If not, I will just do it on Tuesday.

Thank you Krystle for the visit, and if you put money on my books, thank you for that too. I am now going to check today off on my little calendar I made and go read.

Bye everyone.

The Day the Game Changed

Written December 20, 2008

Well everybody, where do I start?

Basically I had "the sweetest deal" one could attain while in jail. I had cigarettes everyday, and because of the cigarettes I had more commissary than I'd ever need. I was at "the farm" which although it could be rough, was not bad at all compared to being in a two-man cell down in the belly of the beast at Main jail. I was well liked by all, and had achieved some small celebrity status due to this blog. On top of that I had the best job you could have at the farm and one month left to relax and get ready to leave.

That is until yesterday.

I came into work like any other day. For those of you who don't know I worked doing Bus Wash which means they drive us to Main everyday to wash buses and clean offices, and ultimately do nothing. We listen to the radio, drink bottled water, eat fast food, and smoke cigarettes all day. But anyway, we had just finished cleaning the office when a deputy calls me over and says to follow him inside. I think nothing of it of course, and follow him inside. I am taken to a little glass box with a window and deputies on the other side. They basically told me that due to my "growing celebrity status" as a result of my blog, they feel that it's in my best interest to put me into protective custody. I am eighty-sixed from the farm where I have been for three months and am perfectly happy.

Keep in mind that I have, to some degree, exposed procedures of the OCSD that could be used in a hurtful way by the wrong people. Although my intentions were in no way to exploit certain weaknesses or endanger myself or any other inmate, I inadvertently may have done just that. I never dreamed when I started writing this blog that it would eventually mean as much as it does to me. Or that as many people would be reading it as there are. Or that it very well might be used to potentially cause harm to me or others.

Now I don't personally see that type of thing happening, but it's always possible. And Orange County has to, as a precautionary measure, make sure I am in housing that puts me at less risk. But protective custody? That seems a little extreme to me. And luckily it seemed that way to the second deputy I spoke to.

For you who don't know, protective custody (PC) means a few things. You are given a blue wristband instead of a white or whatever other color, and you are kept separate from the general population. Blue banders are usually

• ex-gang members
• homosexuals or "alternate lifestyle"
  
• sex offenders, or
  
• snitches.

But guys who write blogs from jail? I am not even famous!

So it was agreed that I would be spared the horrible social scar that is protective custody and simply be moved to a quieter housing setting with less people there at the Main Jail. Of all things, a two-man cell.

Two-man cells are about 8'x 10', feature a small table/sitting area, a sink/toilet combo, and two concrete beds. You are in your cell for probably about 21-22 hours out of the day except for a "day room" period in the afternoon when you can use phones and shower, read the newspaper etc.

As a result of writing this blog I get the whole spectrum of the jail experience. I have never been in a two-man cell before, but for my last month I will be. As a safety measure. The deputies have said they wouldn't dream of asking me to stop writing, but to curtail some info and be more discreet as to certain details, such as specifics of where I am housed, other inmates personal info, and so on.

So here I am after about 20 hours in the loop. I am "suffering for my art" as a "jail celebrity" by spending my last month here in the belly of the beast at Main. Time passes a lot slower here, Two counts instead of five; a lot more time to sleep, read, reflect and write. Because I only have one month left y'all!

So just keep praying that being here doesn't make it seem any slower.

Send me some pictures everyone! I will write about the pictures I get here and we'll have a "best picture" contest or something. LOL. Keep praying, writing, and reading my blog. But most importantly, send money--wait--I mean most importantly: Keep counting! One month left!

Day 92 When You're Nowhere

by J. Rockwell

This little room
This little room reminds me of a sci-fi movie
There's no color, or very little
A sci-fi movie with no technology
This whole place seems more cold and robotic
I think the people who designed such a structure
had to have had a secret evil in their hearts
Or a secret good.

Phantom clicks and pops, phantom voices
Then silence
The loudest silence I have ever heard
all day long, except when "they" are free
in the space allotted them.

I will not do this much longer
I don't think I could
Luckily I don't have to.

But the knowledge of this place has still
burned an imprint onto my mind
I know it, and know it is here
Cold, silent, full to the brim with bodies

Not souls.

All I Want For Christmas

Written on December 18, 2008

Well today could have been a pretty crummy day had I been forced to do what I was scheduled to do on Tuesday. The ongoing plight of my wisdom teeth has had more twists and turns than a daytime soap. I was taken again to Main jail today to have my procedure done and informed upon my arrival here that the surgeon wouldn't be able to see me again. I said that since I was at Main already and I work on the Bus Wash crew at Main, I would be more than willing to just stay and wait for Spanky and Domes to come through. Luckily they were willing to oblige my request. So here I am at the Main jail parking lot washing Transport Vans and thinking about what I want for Christmas (and will not get because of being in jail). I thought I would write out my short list so I have it on record for when my birthday comes up.

I actually just got one of my Christmas presents from the sergeants and deputies. If you can believe this (because I wouldn't if it didn't just happen) four inmates, myself, Spanky, Domes, and the new guy Jam were treated to In-N-Out. Double-doubles, fries, and sodas. No lie. I ate a number one from In-N-Out, while I was in jail. I almost cried. I couldn't believe it. Excuse my language but this job is the shit! And for Jonathan, two words said while driving 100 mph down Santa Ana Blvd. with the sirens blowing and firing guns in the air: "Population Control."

That's a little inside joke I will explain later upon request. Today has been by far a banner day for Bus Wash.

But as far as my list:

1. I washed my iPod in the washing machine before I got locked up. I don't want a new one, just to have my old one fixed.
2. One of those nifty little digital video recorders that are all small. I think I would get a lot of use out of it.
3. I really only wear dress shoes and VANS slip-ons. And I have been wearing the same pair of work boots for three months, so a new pair of funkily designed, size 12 VANS slip-ons will feel so good on my feet when I get out.
4. A fond memory of my life before jail is going to the Army/Navy store in the Orange Circle with my littlest brother and seeing a tan pea coat that I wanted. I would have bought it that day had I known I would be in jail for Christmas.
5. To have my family with me for Christmas, but that too, will have to wait.
6. To sleep in a real bed, with a real pillow.
7. From American Apparel, some purple acid wash jeans in size 32. Especially after wearing County Blues for so long, having some tight pants on, with VANS and my new pea coat, will be like heaven. Not this Christmas.
8. I want a size large, old school black Disney Mickey Mouse shirt. You know the one, where he's just posted up with the back light.
9. Another thing I usually get for Christmas that I am going to miss this year that I could definitely use when I get out, is money. I wish I didn't have to worry about it, but that's life. At least my grandparents will save a couple hundred bucks with me being here. LOL.
10. There has been so much good music that has come out since I have been taken into custody. I have a lot of catching up to do next year. Metallica, Fall Out Boy, Kings of Leon, Oasis, Kanye West. I am going to have to spend a lot of time listening to music next year.
11. To watch a good movie, in a movie theatre.
12. To sit on a couch. Alone.
13. One thing I am certain that I want for Christmas that I will not get is to be home. Everything else doesn't seem that important. Sure they'd be nice to have, but whatever.

I have about a month and a day until I am home, with my family. And friends. And my life. So Merry Christmas. I will just have to have my own Christmas for myself when I get out or something. Lame.

P.S. A watch would be nice too. LOL.

Forced to Fight

Written December 16, 2008

Happy Birthday Jacob!

With that out of the way, I had quite a crummy day, but whatever.

First I had to miss work so that I could wait an hour in 42 degree weather to find out that an error was made and I didn't even have transportation to get my wisdom teeth taken out. So I was home from work all day. The deputy volunteered me to cut hair again all day, which I did. For six hours.

There was one guy who wanted me to cut his hair in a certain way that was against regulation, and I didn't respond well to his attitude. Now keep in mind that I had been cutting hair all day against my will, with everyone asking me to do something special for them that would get me in trouble. And this fatass with an afro is getting upset at me because I am not willing to lose my goodtime/worktime to help him out.

So I tell him straight out:

Look man, this is not my job, this is not Fantastic Sam's or whatever ghetto salon you go to. I am not getting paid to do this and I can yell you right now that you are in no way, shape, or form worth staying here for another minute longer than I have to. Who do you need to look good for anyway? You're in jail. With a bunch of dudes. You're not special. You get the same haircut I gave the 20 guys before you and the same haircut the next 20 guys are going to get. If you don't like it, don't come to jail.

After my monologue, I realized this guy was probably like many here. They are bigger than me, not faster, but bigger, dumber, and it doesn't take a lot for them to feel "disrespected" by an articulate white person. This turned out to be true I found because of the threats he issued to me, over a haircut. We will come back to him.

So I end up doing many more haircuts, then as a "reward" for doing such a good job, I am forced to select a friend to cut my own hair. Damn it! I wanted so badly to try and make it through my last month without getting a haircut, but I am too much on the radar here. And should I choose to refuse a haircut, it would result in a housing change to the main jail and about 12 extra days. I got a haircut y'all. I had my best buddy Robinson do it.

Flash forward. Everyone is back from work. My crew tells me that they were fed steak sandwiches for lunch in my absence. Of course, the one day I am not there! We go to chow and I am called out (to fight) by the fat Mexican guy who didn't like his haircut!

Now, I hate this fact, and have chosen not to write about it till now, but this is the third time I have HAD to fight since I have been here. I am not a person who looks for fights, or enjoys them, or is proud of the fact that I have had to sink to that level. But in jail, it really is (for me) a HAVE TO thing as opposed to a WANT TO thing. The two other fights have been in groups and were stopped quickly (by me) before they could get bad.

What can I say, I have always been a peace keeper and a lover not a fighter. All of these events took place in rapid succession within a matter of days and I did not have the heart to tell my Mom about it for fear she would worry.

But I will let you know that I have never egged a fight on and have always done everything in my power to diffuse any hostile situation. And I have never been beat up either. I am almost always bigger than the people that want to fight and more than anything just don't want to hurt anyone. I went nearly three months without any violence and would have been glad to go the whole way without it.

So later during compound this guy ended up coming over to the tent, his petty anger fueled by his friends. I did everything I could to talk him out of it, but he was too stubborn to understand how stupid his reasons were. And with the mob mentality around here lately I was made out to look scared (which I was) if I didn't fight him.

Mom, you did not raise me to handle disputes with my fists, and I am sorry. You did not raise me to give into situations like this, and I am sorry. You taught me to settle things with my words, and I tried, but here that's not enough sometimes, and I am sorry.

I am very much ashamed of what I had to do, and I am sorry. We went to the showers (where all fighting is done). I beat this misled fat Mexican guy who was angry about, of all things, a mandatory haircut. I received no injury except a small bruise on my right shoulder. And we shook hands and squashed the beef.

I feel ashamed, but that's why I had to write about this. I want you all to know that outside of here, I can't find good reasons to fight, and two out of three times I have fought here were to protect someone smaller than me who was in danger. I hate the pettiness of fighting. It makes me feel like a neanderthal. Like I am stupid. I hate what I had to do and I am sorry to everyone.

After the fight, I just moped around, depressed. I got a really great letter from my friend Lana at night. And I went to sleep. Another day down. We got a bunch of new Woods today and I am the rep. I still have work to do here.

I want to go home.

A Poem

I had a dream about a girl I used to love
My heart leads me to believe I still do sometimes
Her car flipped over, and she just laughed
We talked and she told me she had moved on
That she had found someone new and was happy
And I was left alone with my thoughts in an empty warehouse

It felt so real and then when
I had to wake up, I wished it had been
I would have rather had the pain I dreamed
Than have to spend a day in the pain I live

Through the rain I could see a restaurant I have seen before
It was still early and it was closed
But I had still been there before
I wonder if my dream will come true some day
I think it's almost better if it does.

Rainy Days and Mondays

Written December 15, 2008

Last night on top of being diabolically cold, it started raining cats and dogs and pretty much hasn't stopped at all. We still had to go to work, but were spared a full day of work in the torrential elements. We cleaned the office and were then taken back on the nine o'clock work crews returning bus.

I spent just enough time at work to completely soak my clothes, my boots, and my jacket. I spent the rest of the day at the tent, staying inside as the wind and rain battered our little living space. During the brief intermission in the rain's downpour we were given compound time to make phone calls. I tried desperately to call my parents who I have been worrying about for the past few days. I haven't talked with them after they did not make it out for a visit. But to no avail. And I still hope they are OK.

The funny things is I am writing about how worried I am about my parents, but they are the ones who post these entries. So if this never makes it on the Internet, you'll know, something is wrong. Except you won't.

It's been raining so much, we aren't able to use the phones. My hands are too cold to write right now.

Bye

Volunteer Barber

Written on Sunday, December 14, 2008

Well today was a full day. The barber from East Compound went home on Friday and they asked if anyone wanted to volunteer to cut hair just for the day. So I volunteered myself for a few hours of the day to cut the hair of about 20 or so inmates that needed a haircut.

It was a nice little change from sitting around the tent all day. Then when I got back to the tent before lunch count we were all debating whether we could jump and touch the bottom of the hanging fly strip in our tent. I wagered that Reggie (who is an over-confident, short Hawaiian guy) that he could not touch it in three tries. If he could, I would give my four honey buns. If he was unable to do it, he would give me his entire commissary bag. Needless to say, I ended up letting him keep most of his items and gave the items I did take from him to new people without anything to eat. Why? Because I am a nice guy.

I am clearly not going to be receiving a visit from anyone this weekend. I thought that surely my parents would come based on the last conversation I had with them on Friday. And now after they did not show up all weekend, and I am unable to get a hold of them on the phone at all, I am beginning to worry that something may have happened to them. In the hundred odd days I have been here, I have had A LOT of people say that they would come visit and never come, or write, or pick up the phone. But my parents have almost always come through when they said they would, or at least picked up the phone to explain why they couldn't make it.

I'm probably just being silly. They are fine and have just been busy. But I really can't help but worry because here I have no way of knowing for sure. Anyway, hopefully I will get a hold of them later if we get compound.

Just so everybody knows, there is a lot going on here all the time that I can't really write about yet. I promise I will, very soon I will, but I can't incriminate myself--or anyone else--just yet.

So until soon is now, I will be seeing ya.

Spanky Speaks

Written December 13, 2008

Dear Older Brother:

Although I wouldn't be able to see you today anyway due to your geographical location, I apologize because being in jail makes it impossible to speak to you on the phone.

And to my younger brother:

I apologize as well that I will not be around in the next couple days and will not be able to speak with you as well.

So to my older and younger brother, let me just say this: Sorry I am in jail on your birthday. Next year will be different.

--------------------------------

I wanted to include in this entry a conversation that occurred between my friend Rich and my friend Spanky about a month ago. This exchange sticks out in my mind for what reason I am not sure. But I just thought I would like to share a real conversation from jail with my readers. (I am severely editing this for explicit language.)

Richard

(speaking to someone else about the engine of a Prius)

Yeeah...I thought the thing was broken because when we stopped at a red light, the engine shut off. I guess that's just how it is designed though.
(Spanky walks up to the conversation.)

Spanky

Hey Richard.

Richard

What Spanky?

Spanky

Hey Richard...Richard...Richard...

Richard

(trying to remain cool and calm)

Yes Spanky?

Spanky

Hey Richard...

Richard

(starting to lose his patience)

Yes Spank?!

Spanky

What are you talking about?

Richard

Nothing Spanky. (Kicks rocks.)

Spanky

C'mon Richard! What are you talking about?

Richard

Nothing Spanky! Shut up will you?!

Spanky

But Richard...Richard if you don't teach me...how am I supposed to learn? Richard. C'mon tell me.

Richard

We already went over this Spanky, you can't learn. You're unable to learn, now shut up.

Spanky

Shut up!!! You wanna get chin checked? Hey Richard, you can get me one of those Blazers? One with two doors type one? OH! No like the two door GMC ones! You can get one for me? Like cheap? Like a older one?

Richard

Yeah sure, Spanky.

Spanky

Yeaahh! I'll throw some 22s on it. Lower it like two inches and put a system in it! Then I'll just be like... (imitating driving with the seat leaned back and a loud stereo system playing with a lot of bass) BMM BMMM BMM BMMM BMM BMMM BMM BMMM Skiirt Skiiiirrrt!

Richard

Yeah sure Spanky.

Spanky

I'll just be like... (continues his driving imitation and noises) What do you think Richard? Richard. You can hook that up for me?

Richard

Yeah Spanky.

Spanky

Or what about a Hummer Richard? Richard... Richard...Richard what about a Hummer?

Richard

What Spanky?! Yeah whatever. Just shut up.

Spanky

Shut up! You can get me a Hummer? Like cheap? What if I don't have good credit?

Richard

Spanky we go through this everyday at work. I can get whatever car eventually. It's just a matter of...

Spanky

Shuddup! You want me to knock yo ass out? Maaan...cuz. You get me a Hummer? I would just be like (starts imitating driving again with his sound system) BMM BMMM BMM BMMM (pantomimes waving while shifting gears) What do you think Richard? You get me a Hummer? Like cheap payments? I would just get somebody to drive me in it and I would just be chillding in the back with a chick. Then she could say she was chillin' in a Hummer.

Richard

Yeah Spanky. We'll just...

Spanky

Shuddup Richard!

------------------------------------------
That's pretty much how it went. Just with a lot of cursing and a lot more vulgar and degrading references towards women and sexual acts. But yeah, that's part of life in yellow tent. You can't imagine how fun it is to actually hear it acted out.

But hopefully you never will.

Are We There Yet?

Written on December 11, 2008

Can this be true? And should I even dare to let my mind swim into the dangerous waters that this notion occupies? I need to keep my head screwed tightly onto my shoulders to guide me through the immediate obstacles that are still very real and have great potential to jealously strike back if I pay them less attention than the daydreams that more and more entice my mind's presence.

Everything about this place is real and I am reminded of that fact constantly. It's morbid, dirty, bloodthirsty, sometimes hopeless. Overall detestable. Why wouldn't my mind want to drift dreamily so deep into the constant conjuring of what my very near future can and will hold? Drift so deep that I can almost feel hot wind hitting my face, with the music just loud enough, in the passenger seat next to my little brother, stomach full, clothes tight, feet airy, sunglasses on, nowhere to be but where I want to be. I can stay in that daydream forever.

Which is only about as long I get between breaths here. Each day is forever. Each hour is forever. Each minute is a minute but we would never know because we don't have any clocks. I can't let myself think about it too much. I can do the impossible if I think about it too much. I can make forever longer than it already is.

I can't cry...not for fear that someone will see me, but because I am almost sure this place has temporarily robbed me of my ability to do so.

Do I dare say it? I have said it plenty before but now it almost seems more powerful. Because I am approaching the time where there will be more reality attached to it. It's been real all along. Just as real as this, the worst dream I ever been able to not wake up from.

But the sun is rising in another part of the world as I write this.
Soon it's hot golden, orange, and fiery red rays will warm, burn, and scorch
the old and cracked, spit soaked concrete
that paves the streets in my city.

I am going to say it. One more time but not by any means the last time. I won't say it too loud, there's power in it. And I can't let it charge up too much just yet. But I am going to say it.

For myself
For my family
For my roommates
For my friends
For my God and for my future:

"I want to come home. And after not too long, what I want, will be what I get. I almost have a month left!"

Bus Wash Rocks!

Written on December 10, 2008

Well everyone, I am truly blessed. Bus Wash is in fact everything it's cracked up to be. Although being on Bus Wash adds a whole new stressful element to your tent life, your day makes it worth it.

We leave the farm by bus at 6:30 a.m. and are dropped off at the Main Jail in Santa Ana to the back parking lot. We are responsible for the general upkeep of the parking lot and for washing, drying, and vacuuming the Orange County Sheriff Department's buses, vans, squad cars, etc. We also clean the Deputies' office here at Main. There are soooo many perks that make this job such a coveted position.

• We get to drink Sparkletts water. It had been months since I had had bottled water.
  
• We get to wear hats that they provide for us here.
  
• We get to walk around the parking lot unsupervised as we clean the vehicles.
  
• We get to chew gum! I chewed a piece of gum today! Can you believe that?
  
• We get to drive police vehicles! It may be just in the parking lot but still, have you ever driven a cop car?
• We interact directly with and in very, and I mean VERY close proximity with Deputies. And they don't nut up on you or get crazy like they do at the farm or anywhere else.

But I think the very best part about this job, aside from being in a relaxed environment with my friends and outside in the shade all day, is THE MUSIC! That's right people, we have a small radio on Bus Wash that we can listen to, one thing I have truly missed. Don't get me wrong, we work hard. We clean anywhere from three to five vehicles a day on top of cleaning an entire office. And I am talking about prisoner transport buses here.

It's quite a welcome change of pace, and it makes each a day a little bit more relaxed.

It's nice to have a job that lets you forget that you are in jail when you're busy, but from time to time you will be having a good ol' time washing a bus and splashing around and talking and stuff, and then you look down and realize that you're still wearing county blues, and that when you leave you still have to go back to your "home," which is a tent with about 75 other dudes.

The only bad thing is having to go back to the farm and the drama that awaits me there. Without going into too much detail about the circumstances, I will say that for the second time since I have been there, serious tension exists between the brothers and Asians, and the Southsiders. Which means that if anything "pops off" the woods and the brothers and Asians "click up" or join forces against them.

I don't want any part in it. I am coming up on my home stretch here in about a week and I have managed to do it without having to incite any kind of racially fueled riot or involve myself in any physical violence. I am a lover, not a fighter. I just want to go home, without having to be here any longer than is absolutely necessary. I am keeping the peace, and with it my good time and work time. Everything here has stayed on a steady complicated track. Things rarely stay easy for long. I miss Richard. And I am almost at the point where I will have 30 days left. It's hard to believe. I am quickly approaching the end while trying to keep my head out of the future, and in the now.

Pray.

Fingers Crossed

Written December 9, 2008

So much has gone on over the past few days that I am going to do my best to include it all in this entry. Some lingo and terms may not make sense to everyone, unless of course you've been to jail before, so use your imagination.

Late last night I got changed from the yellow mouse to the best job crew at the farm: the Bus Wash Crew, with my friends Spanky, Rich, and our friend Domes from Green tent! Robinson took over as mouse.

Today I got taken to Western Medical Center in Anaheim instead of going to my first day of work. I thought my prayers were being answered: getting my wisdom teeth taken out finally. But alas, it was a dry run. They somehow lost or misplaced my paperwork so I didn't have any procedure done and basically spent an entire day crammed into a small holding cell with six other inmates who didn't have any work done either. Wasted day.

I get back to yellow tent to find out that my friend Rich (who was also the house rep for the Woods) had been picked up that morning to go to rehab (Hope House) that he had been waiting to get into. He left instructions that I was to take over as the new house rep in his absence. Within 24 hours I got a new job, a new bunky, and a new "political position" putting me in charge of all the white people (aka Woods) in the yellow tent.

Although I am happy my good friend Richard got out, I am still going to miss him. And on top of that, as soon as he is not the rep, all kinds of drama and tension comes about with the Southsiders. I wish I could fully describe the events going on here. There has literally been enough activity over the last couple days to film a movie. God willing someday I may. But for now I have to get back to joint because I hold keys here now and there is too much going on here for me to be writing all day.

....

I go to have my first day at Bus Wash tomorrow with Spanky and Domes, and from what I am told I hit the jackpot of jobs. I am excited and nervous for it, but I am sure it'll be alright. I am still having a lot of times when my emotions are all over the place, as I am sure you could tell from my previous entry. So just keep praying for me y'all.

And what's up Tex? You're out on the streets right now you redneck! Stay cool and stay outta jail brother. I love and miss you. I will write tomorrow about my first day of work. Fingers crossed it's all it's cracked up to be.

This Is Not A Life

(Written on December 8, 2008)

Bye-bye Little Maco. Goodbye Muerta. I hope nothing prevented you guys from making it home. I also hope you thoroughly enjoy the holidays with your families and loved ones. It was great getting to know you guys over these past couple months.

There has been so much going on here lately. People leaving. The weather changing. My depression is getting thick enough to cut with a plastic spoon. I want out of here so bad. And even though I am getting closer and closer, I am positive I am not going to be getting out of here as easily as I had hoped. It is so important to have God right now. I haven't been able to contact my family for the past couple days. I got to see my two younger brothers on Sunday, which was a real blessing. But it just made my heart hurt even more after they left. I want to be alone. Just have some f*cking alone time!!!

Even though I feel alone, I am surrounded by people all the time. I feel like I am alone, but I'm not. I am never alone here. I have nothing to eat. No money on my books. I have gotten a couple of letters this week but no pictures. The letters were nice though. I am just really going through it now. My heart and head are just tearing me apart and I want to hide or die or be home already. I don't know what's going on outside. I just want my life back. Because this is not a life. This is not a life.

This is a bad dream I am still waiting to wake up from. I know I can't win here. I don't want this place to seep into my spirit like I feel it has. I don't want this place to follow me home. I JUST WANT TO COME HOME!

To A Few Guys

I dedicate this entry to a few guys I had the pleasure of getting to know here.

One is Tony who just went home last night and hails from Long Beach. During his stay here he was truly a pleasant person. Never got too loud. Was never disrespectful to anyone and never caused any problems with others. Yeah, he was kind of a truck, but he has a good heart.

Tony, despite what you may think your capable of doing by yourself, I am going to pray that God puts it on your heart to successfully and completely abstain from the things that will cause you to falter. God bless, and good luck out there.

The next person is Sinclair, whose name is so cool I only hope I am not misspelling it. Sinclair is such a great guy. He is sweet and quiet and I never saw him spend too much time away from his bunk. Didn't have much to say but was always pleasant and polite and clearly did not belong in jail. If every inmate here was like Sinclair, I might not mind staying longer if I absolutely had to. Thank you Sinclair for being as cool of a guy as you are now, and I am sure ya will continue to be. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you will have little trouble staying out of jail from here on out, but I will pray for you regardless. God bless and good luck.

The last is Ron, or as we call him, "Blue." Blue, just know that I think you're the tits and although you could've thought of a million different places you would have rather been that day, I am glad I got to spend your 50th birthday with you, even if it was in jail. And our spades record will always be untouchable. So I will pray for you man, you're my boy blue! God bless and good luck!

So leave a comment and just know that I am rooting for all of you and if I do see any of you again, it better not be in jail.!

Note from Jordan's Family-Big Change

Thank you so much to the many people who have sent Jordan letters and books! We just heard from him after not getting a phone call for a week, and he said to make sure and write about how much it has meant to him to hear from friends and receive the books.

There has been a disturbing development as a result of this blog. He was told by the deputies at the Farm that because of this blog they were moving him to the main jail in Santa Ana. He is now in a two-man cell on 22 hour lock down, at the new address posted on the side. If you want to send him Christmas greetings or visit him, it will now be at that address, and visits are behind a glass. He will not be able to see the sky, sunshine, or go outside at all like at the Farm. He is trying to be optimistic and says that he is not regretting doing the blog. The deputies must have been getting nervous about some blog posts that he sent out to us, but that we are not going to post, that were somewhat derogatory. They read out-going and incoming mail, and of course they have a lot of leeway in their treatment of inmates.

He has one more month on his sentence, and it is going to be a long one, and very tough. He is going to need a lot of prayer. He doesn't have a job there, which he said made the time go faster. His cell-mate is a heroin addict who is going through detox because he is just got there.

Please pray for Jordan as he adjusts to the cramped cell and tries to keep his spirits up while in there for Christmas. For more information on how to get mail to Jordan, or when to visit him, click here.

Thank you again. God bless you!

Squeezing the Juice

On December 5, OJ Simpson got sentenced to at least nine years in prison. What the hell is up with that?! What is this country coming to when a guy is prejudged and mistreated just because he brutally murdered two people in the early 90s? What happened to letting our movie stars and sports heroes skate through life without really having to follow the rules and laws that the rest of society has to? That's why we have celebrities right? We envy and covet their lives and curse them for the supposed "double standard" us commoners have to live by, all the while continuing to spend money on and follow any tabloid or movie that has to do with them.

I am in jail right now, but I only have semi-celebrity status and only in select places, so it's understandable. This is OJ Simpson we're talking about here! The Juice! The guy is old and poor now. Let him hangout and do whatever he wants will you? So he made some mistakes. Who hasn't? If a different former running back who has reached an elderly age got caught up for the same thing in the state of Nevada he wouldn't be getting the same sentence. I think that just because he's black, and yeah, maybe the fact that he hacked up his ex-wife and her friend with a knife, he is being unfairly judged.

Show some mercy on the guy. It's so easy for people to judge people when they have never been in that situation before. I know what it's like to be judged and pray that people show mercy for the things I have done. So I am sympathetic to what OJ has to go through. Of course my ordeal wasn't televised and my sentence is not nearly as life changing, but I can relate. Sort of.

Well come to think of it, I actually never murdered anyone in Brentwood myself, and I am not an old black guy who used to play in the NFL either. I better stop before I forget why it is I relate to him.

Bye y'all.

Tossed Up

Well November is over, making a lot of us one more month closer to home. Time will do with us what it will though, and this next month shows no real promise for an expedient conclusion.

Randomly, the deputies will "toss up" a tent. They search through the inmates personal property for any contraband like tobacco, lighters, pornography, extra issue, etc. Today was our day, and they made quite a mess of things. First, they told us to be in full jail issue and line up outside where we were strip searched by deputies, then sent to sit at the picnic tables in the yard while a drug sniffing dog was brought into our tent (to no avail). The deputies then entered to do a hands on search through property boxes, commissary bags, under mattresses and pretty much anywhere they thought that contraband may have been hidden.

They found altered razors, extra issue, lighters, tobacco, naked pictures, and various other contraband items. This was not fun for Robinson and me (being the house mice). We had to come in and bag all of these items while the deputies watched, telling us what to pick up. We're just walking around a complete mess, "our home" looking as if a tornado had hit it.

Another hard part about the whole debacle was the unspoken disappointment factor. There are a few deputies with whom I would like to think I have a good rapport. One (who by request will remain nameless, but he knows who he is) was involved in the search of our tent. And when lighters and tobacco were found in proximity to my bunk (and Robinson's), another deputy made some disparaging remarks about "his orderlies." I caught one of those "I-am-not-angry-with-you-just-disappointed" looks that was even worse than just being yelled at. Even though the contraband in question wasn't mine (not all of it anyway) there is little I can say in that situation in my defense. But it was over quickly, and everyone picked up the small pieces of lives they have here that were strewn about the floor.

It wasn't the first time and it won't be the last. A detailed poem will follow in the next few weeks describing the feelings that existed during and after the incursion of our domain. I just have to wait till I am in more of a mood to write it.

Till then friends.

Castle Poem

Well, Thanksgiving came and went, and I am still here, alive and well for the most part. Trying to make myself aware of the things I told myself I was thankful for yesterday, and stay grateful despite the fact that the inevitable depression of the holidays has not spared me in the least this year, and has managed to find me here. The one good thing is that we had yard for a long time with all the tents and I got to entertain an entire compound and also spend some time with my buddy Tex. Also my grandparents on my mom's side came to visit me today on their way back to San Diego. It was a very nice visit I must say. My grandparents are very sweet and kind old people who can even warm the cold atmosphere of a jail visiting center. They are very pleasant to be around and I enjoyed their company as much as possible under the circumstances.

Ryan the teacher went home, Goofy the master landscaper went home, and in this next week there will be a whole new batch of fresh fish here to fill the empty bunks. I will no doubt watch them come and go as I remain here, me and Spider.

Castle Poem by Jordan

If this is the castle I was appointed to protect, then why am I the only soldier left?
Why do I feel sick loyalty to this kingdom though I must fight it daily within myself?
Why is the place I love also the place I hate?
And how can I ever dream of loving a place designed to make me feel hated?
If there's one thing this structure has is an abundance of Hate.
Hate and rules. Hate for the rules.
The same hate for the rules that put them here is the same hate for the rules that will keep them here.
The same hate for the rules that fuels this place.
So why do I feel I must defend this broken castle and its blind and cold inhabitants?
Because they are my immediate family.
And right now this castle is all I have.

Thanksgiving in Jail

Well this is the second holiday I have spent in jail this year (the first being Halloween). For the most part it seems seems just another day, but a gloomy, ominous presence in the air surrounds us that reminds this is a special day everywhere else but here. Our families and loved ones are out there doing what families and loved ones are supposed to be doing...what we should be doing.

The James Musick facility was nice enough though to give us a "Thanksgiving dinner" in place of our usual sack lunch. We had a slice of turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, corn, salad, and a genuine (and extremely delicious I might add) slice of pumpkin pie with real whipped cream on top.

It was the best meal I've had here in over two months, but upon its conclusion the reality set in that I was in a jail chow hall with 200 some odd inmates eating Thanksgiving dinner instead of at my parents' loving home in Yorba Linda with my grandparents and brothers. I fought back tears of remorse for my poor choices. And then tears of anger at myself for being here yet again instead of with my family.

But my good friend Rich, who doesn't strike me as a man who gives speeches, said some kind things to me in the way he does. He said that I am young (which is true) and I have plenty more Thanksgivings ahead of me to spend with my family. As long as I really am the person I appear to be the Thanksgiving of 2008 that I spent in jail will be a memory I can look back on later in life and laugh. Which I will. I am good at putting a comical spin on things later on that aren't very funny at the time.

Shortly after lunch, after I had to gather the belongings of two inmates who got rolled out to main jail from their work, I remembered the things I do have to be thankful for. As strange as it may sound, I am thankful I am in jail at this time. Without this reality being reinforced in my thinking every holiday I spend here I might not take my time as seriously as I definitely should. If that makes sense.

And I am thankful that I am in jail here. Although the farm is no walk in the park, it could always be worse. For real. I really cannot get too excited about anything nowadays it seems.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Many Thanks to my friends

First off, let me start by thanking some of those that have written to me, because I appreciate it so much. Krystle, your letters are always great and I love hearing about your new job and everything.

And to Timothy, thanks for reading the blog, man, and for sending me the books. I am looking forward to reading them. Your letter was one of the most entertaining ones I have received since I have been here! I hope to hear back from you real soon.

To my brother Jesse, it was really good to hear from you, you always make me smile. I really do miss you man. Please write back soon and let me know my "personality type" and everything.

And to my dear friend Ryan R. I was excited to get your letter and read that you are doing well back home and staying out of trouble. I miss you, man, and I will fight through the holidays, because you're right, there will be more next year.

I also got a letter from my friend Matthias last night that contained the baddest, most incredible "rad-ass" drawing I have quite possibly ever seen in my life. I can't even really explain how cool it is, you have to see it, an awesome take on the "NightHawk". Thank you, Matthias, and expect a letter back soon.
Letters, artwork, jokes, and especially visits are most welcome! Thanksgiving is tomorrow, I will write more then.

We Are All Just People Trying to Get Along

November 18, 2008 was one of the most outrageous and unbelievable days I’ve had in jail. A day I wouldn’t have expected. Unfortunately for you, reader, I am a man of my word. I promised certain individuals (who are responsible for the quality of the remainder of my stay here) that I would not mention any incriminating details about the activities or conversations the aformentioned parties participated in.

Furthermore, I would in no way, shape, or form name any of the deputies—oh my bad!—I mean “individuals” involved on my blog. I will be vague in my description of today’s events to honor my oral agreement with the deputies—damn it, I did it again didn’t I?—I meant to say with the “individuals” to not disclose any pertinent information linking them to the events that took place at the James Musick Facility. At a later day, if you want to inquire of the events that took place here I will gladly oblige...as long as you promise never to write about it in any widely circulated news publication. Please.

I assure you it is quite an extraordinary occurrence to happen in a jail. If you should come to visit me, I could enlighten you to some of the details. But that will require you to actually come visit me.

So until we meet, I will say this: despite the beliefs expressed by some fellow inmates, I believe the county employees are genuinely good people with good intentions, whose jobs require them to take on a colder persona than some of them would prefer. They are people like you or me who were hired for positions in which a high level of fear and respect are required to perform their duties without incident and according to the guidelines set forth by the powers above them. Nobody should harbor ill-will toward them for doing the job to the best of their ability. We are all just people trying to get along.