Time passes well for me in MCC..
like today, it really really doesn't..
I have re-arranged my paperwork,
sent emails, made my bed, tidied my cell and replied to my most
Recently i have been spending way too much time in my cell, and
it has has certainly had a very negative effect on my state of mind.
My cellie tells me if i'm thinking of 'hanging up', i should make a scout
knot..then re-assures me that he would visit my grave every year,
pour hennesy on my tombstone, smoke a woolie (crack and weed in a blunt)
in my memory
"..and all that dumb shit, i'll even do you a nore sketch every year on your birthday dog!"
I think it's best if i go for a walk around the unit...
First stop is the computer area..
Despite their super budget antique software and exterior, the computers are always
in use, and as i approach them i can easily make out through the thick clouds of
gusty bullshit that gets spewed out in this unit every hour by the numerous shit talking
wastemen i am housed with,
the 'computer goblins'..
These ugly, deformed individuals spend most of their waking lives hanging around in the
shadows, waiting for people to walk away from the computer line..
If you are unlucky enough not to be hip to these ultra spastics wasteman games,
you can expect not only your spot in the line to be gone, but a whole new
line to be formed, mostly made up of these greasy frog-like motherfuckers..
In my personal experience, i have found that if you shout/threaten one of them,
they all scatter back behind the rocks and crevices that they spewed out from..
I've just used the computer, no fuckries for me.
My freind J is waiting in line, so we shoot some shit..
We didn't always used to be cool.
I recall one time when i first came in the unit, i walked upto
him and without me needing to mutter a single word, he screwed
up his face and shouted
"N****R, i don't fucks wit you!"
Now, it seems, he goes.
I'd like to think that is down to me parring off a few dickheads,
and generally 'getting down with the program'..but in reality,
my 260 pound african american brother probably had something
to do with it..
J seems to think that i have 'Dragonball Z' tattoos. I have told
him he is wrong, where they actually come from, but he still
thinks that i am wrong.
Suit yourself J!
what you think of this man..I wanna get FAME down my arm,
it means 'For All My Enemies', what you think man?"
..sounds live mate :S
Time to move on i think..
(can u put the song 'what you see is what you get' by the dramatics)
Due to me owing various shady cats money for various items,
my locker is next to empty.
Couple soups, packs of oatmeal,
that's about it i'm affraid.
For now, a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal cookies is
going to have to do..
I make my way to the kitchen to heat up my poor excuse
for a meal.
My timing couldn't possibly be worse..
It's eight o'clock. We get locked in at eight thirty, so the kitchen
is absolutely rammed with mans trying to cook meals, heat up various
exotic beverages or just stand around doing FUCK ALL..
I spot my dude N at the front of the line,
so try to make some moves..
"N****r, you gonna have to wait like all these other bitch ass n****rs"
Despite N's initial reaction,
i wait around for him to finnish cooking his meal..and it pays off,
i manage to skip the whole line and heat my shit up, way before the twenty angry
people who where in line..Thanks to N standing next to me staring at them
all, occasionally shouting
..as i'm only heating coffee and a couple biscuits, no one seems too
bothered anyhow. Especially as i offer them all a biscuit.
I get back to the cell just in time to see my partner and one of his dudes
going through a copy of 'smooth' magazine..
"Cubana Lust just has the biggest, fattest, juiciest, roundest ass man..god DAMN!"
They spot me at the door doing my best to check out their
magazine on a secret squirrel flex..an get busted
"This n****r, man! This n****r's a dirty n****r!"
you get you some black pussy, you're gonna be finished man"