Friday, 26 August 2011

Complete piece of shit..

There's some NEXT old Puerto Rican dude on the unit.

Man's in his sixties,
walks with a cane an speaks
next to no English..

Yet has quickly built up
a reputation as being a
complete piece of shit..

I don't get it.

I got no problems with
the old codger.

Ever since he came in the unit,
i help him carry his chair up an
down the stairs,
 in turn, nearly every day he comes
to my cell, with a mouth of pure gums
an no teeth, an calls out,

"JIM!"

An busts me a handful of sweetener packets
to help feed my habit of chain-guzzling ultra
sweet mugs of coffee..

Late last night,
he couldn't find his chair..

A regular situation..

You're surrounded by thieves,
stealing your chair is a fucking MINOR!

SO...

Gramps is goin' from cell to cell looking
for this dusty old chair..

Despite reassurance from me and my cellie
that we WILL get him another chair,
this dude is on a mission to find that
motherfucker..

He fails..

Now he's PISSED..

For whatever reason,
he awakes today, convinced that our new neighbour,
some young Spanish dude, is the culprit.

Why?

I do not know.

Dude has no chair.

He doesn't watch tv.

An he's a cool guy,
don't cause NO problems..

Gramps ain't hearin' that shit..

He spends most of today continually
berating this poor kid for his clearly
non-existant role in the great chair
heist..

Dude snaps..

Our man spits a 16 bar Spanish cypher
that has the whole tier crying with laughter..

One of the older dudes translated it for the
non Spanish speaking audience..

"I DIDN'T TAKE YOUR FUCKIN' CHAIR OLD MAN,
MAKE SURE YOU FIND IT YOU WRITE COCKSUCKER ON THE BACK,
MOTHER FUCKER!"





Monday, 22 August 2011

Right

This is ridiculous..

I need to sleep..

The spaniards next door are having some
kind of early morning karaoke session,
singing a the top of their lungs
in Spanish...

They're weird guys..

I asked one of them
for some cake one day, ever since,
they have brought me cake..

Everyday..

I just assumed they were being freindly
as i never get up early in the morning..

My cellie was suspicious..

"Either there's poison in it or that Spanish n****r wants you to fuck him"

Right..

Not quite sure i agree with either
of those ridiculous conclusions..

still..

I started to refuse their daily offerings of cake,
'til i realised they where giving it to my cellie instead..

I reminded him of his theory..

"My n****r! I was testing it for you!"

Riiiiight..

Prick.

House of God

Every Saturday..

Two o'clock..

Protestant church..

Church is a good place to go,
whether you're religious or not..

It's not only nice to get a little bit of movement,
travelling to a different, unfamiliar part of the prison,
but it's a place where you can meet up with your buddies,
co-defendants and possible enemies from other floors..

You can go there to worship too..

It's not like any 'house of God'
i've ever been to in my life..

Firstly..

It's split into different sections,
catering for all the different gangs and crews
populated in the jail.

Secondly..

There is a NEXT hench guard at the door.

Thirdly..

It's never, ever boring..

Most of the congregation are ultra hench
convicts, covered in an assortment of differently
retarded body and facial tattoos.

They have come to church for business,
and business purposes only..

Finding out information..

Exchanging messages from different inmates..

Organising financial transactions..

Material transactions..

You name it,
they are doing it..

No matter what church i go to or whatever
religous house i might be in, and i've been in a few,
i'm always respectful of other peoples faiths and beliefs..

Sadly not everyone shares the same views as me when
it comes to respecting their fellow brothers faith..

Most heads spend the majority of their time in religious
services laughing, shouting, basically on pure joke time..

There is a tonk air vent in the middle of the room,
as inmates routinely use the vents as make-shift telephones
to speak to heads on different floors, the pastors sermon is
frequently interupted by random shouts from inmates trying
to contact manz..

"YO! YO! NINE NORTH! YO D, YOU READ? MY N****R D, WUD UP SON?"

It's hard not to laugh..

Especially when the person on the vent is
getting more and more frustrated..

"YO MY N****R! MOTHERFUCKER WHAT THE FUCK YOU PLAYIN' AT N****R!
SEND DOWN MY MOTHERFUCKIN' BREAD YOU BUM ASS N****R! I KNOW YOU CONSCIOUS!
BITCH ASS N****R!"

The pastor is Chinese.

He speaks in a very, very thick accent.

All in all, he's a really good guy,
i have a lot of respect for him.
His bars always seem to have some kind of
direct relevance to whatever it is i might be
currently going through, he's a top boy player
in the game..

Man's patient too..

During yesterdays cypher,
he was talking about the many puported
miracles Jesus is believed to have performed..

"Jesus did things you can never do!"

"He turned water to WINE! You can NEVER do this!"

..People in the back of the room start to crack up laughing..

"NO! I'M NOT TALKIN' ABOUT HOOCH! STOP LAUGHIN!"

Everybody in the room is now purely creasin'..

"NO! IT'S NOT FUNNY! STOP LAUGHIN! MAKIN' HOOCH IS BAD!
JESUS MADE WINE NOT MOONSHINE, IT'S NOT FUNNY!"

By this point,
the whole congregation is pissing themselves,
falling about laughing..even the pastor has a smirk on
his face..

As with most religions,
the Protestant church in this prison has
sections of worship dedicated to singing..

Always a sight to behold..

BARE tattooed, greazy looking dudes,
getting mad emotional holding their arms out
singing at the top of their lungs, sometimes even
flailing them around into the rest of the congregation
in an attempt to convey the impression that they are
under some kind of magical spell..

While in the middle of a particular hymn,
some will spontaneously start shouting,

"AMEN! GOD IS GOOD!"

Or even take it all the way to the hilt,
busting out their own bars in a spare
of the moment soprano solo..

I should really go to church more often..

It was a really nice way to spend a couple hours,
i felt a lot more relaxed up my return to my unit..

Most importantly, i got to see my buddy T
who got moved to another floor!

Press Play
Can you put the tune 'never can say goodbye' by Isaac hayes)

He's doing well.

Nothing new to report.

Said he misses me whingin' to him
about my problems..

Poor sod..

He really bore the brunt of the
depression-era Timothy Guvercin..

Manz also really helped me when i was in
a bad spot, cooked me meals, gave me much needed advice,
generally being one hell of a good freind when i needed one..

I should definitely go to church more often..

Saturday, 20 August 2011

Jump on it

This morning i woke up to purely unadulterated fuckries..

I was in deep sleep..

Having an excruciatingly detail-orientated dream.

Very convincing.

The central revolving theme was circulated around
me penetrating vaginas with a titanium strength
Turkish sword sheathed in spicy sujuk..

It was purely DeeP..

My cellie get's up ultra early each morning.

Being the kind man that he is,
he likes to wake me up.

'Just for jokes'

:/

Today he slammed his hand down on my bed
and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"BUMBACLUT PUSSYCLUT TURKISH BOY!!!"

I sat upright and clocked him
standing next to my bed,
smiling.

It's hard to be mad at him when he's smiling.

Even when he asks me to purchase some shit on credit,
under the premise that he will be taking care of the debt
with the bread he's just been sent..

..I purchase the shit, it's consumed, then at around one AM
when the doors are locked he turns around to me creasing,
revealing that he never had the money in the first place.

Standing there with his arms stretched out, smiling,
it's hard to be mad at him.

A cup of coffee, some jokes and nut scratches later,
the 'cute' (for prison standards) guard comes down to the tier..




I'm lying in bed.

Chillin'.

"Yo son, G up my n****r, im'a plug you in kid!"

"What?"

Before i can process what the fuck he's talking about,
he calls the chick over to the cell..

"Good morning miss,
check out Romeo over here.."

She curiously slinks over to the doorway..



i've been on a purely Governator-like workout regime recently.

This is my first chance to show it off to a 'real' woman..

Before she clocks me, i sit up.

Pull the covers down to my waist and turn onto my side.

One arm behind my head.

PURELY posing like a motherfucker..




My cellie throws a line,

"God Damn, look at this silly Clark Gable lookin' motherfucker!"

She starts to crease.

"Where the FUCK this n****r think he at, the Waldorf?!"

i'm laughin' too, but joke time is over..

Time to spit some bars..

"Good morning miss! I bet you wish you could be in bed at this time of day?"

(Patting the space next to me on the bed)

She turns bright red,
then quickly mumbes,

"Em, yep! You should listen to your cellie though! Time to get up!"

I am up.

By that i mean my penis is erect and ready to
spit Turkish venom in her face..

No time for web slinging though,
as she disapears quick fast in a cloud
of perfume and Estrogen
I look over an clock my cellie beaming from ear to ear..

"Dog, you killed it! MY N****R!"

Inspirations

Sittin' on my bed,
dangling my feet off the side,
i'm bored.

Real fucking bored..

For some reason i like my toes,
but right now, they're looking a bit worse for wear..

.........

The elevators are apparently broken.

Apparently.

This has prompted the guards to lock
us all on the tier..

People are running around screaming,
banging on the tables, kicking the doors,
generally being as irritating as possible.

 Me choosing to sit in my cell
instead of joining in the spastication festivities
apparently makes me "bugged the fuck out".

Right..

I am surrounded by limitless,
breathtakingly inspirational people..

They ask me amazingly thoughtful questions..

Why do i work out..

Why do i sketch..

Why do i write..

Why do i read..

Why do i spend most of my time alone
and SPECIFICALLY not in their company..



The answer,
i don't want to be you..

You motivate me to better myself..

You are the ultimate tramps that any person
questioning their self-worth can compare themselves to,
and feel good..

 Just looking at your ultra retarded mashed up face
reminds me that things could always be worse..

.............

Holy SHIT i'm bored..

I'm hungry too..

Discipline, i need to stay disciplined..

"Silly n****r ain't got no weight to lose"

 There might be some morsel of truth
to the eloquently put statement above..

I'm by no means fat or in need of such
rapid weight loss that i'm currently undertaking..

But i could be better,
so why the fuck not..

That's the type of time i'm on at the moment,
if there is a part of my life i can improve,
i'm doing it..

Sketching, writing, working out,
reading, whatever it might be,
i'm trying to stay busy and productive..

It's working too..

 It has a positive effect on others too,
the people i give a flying fuck about anyway..

 The ultra deformed hyper tramps
are happy sipping dog piss, chewing on chunks of dog shit
and watching 'Basketball Wives' followed by 'Jersey Shore'..

Fair play to 'em..

Monday, 15 August 2011

Breeze



I can't sleep for shit..

Man's clinging onto the cross hatched bars
of the window, hoping that the cold steel
might cool me down.

It's not.

Finger tips an toes are curled around
the metal rivets poking out the wall
an corners of the window.

That ain't doin' shit either..

There's a faint glow
coming from the street.

Layin' on my side, I'm lookin' up at my arm.

All these pushups on my knuckles have had
a definite visual impact on my body,
the veins lining my forearms are looking hench,
backlit by the golden glow of street lights below..

I'm conscious of each an every
individual bead of sweat leaving my body.

Each one slowly rolling down,
til i wipe it away with my only clean t-shirt..

I'm eyeballin' a makeshift washing line.

It's a couple inches in front of my bonce.

I had to rock it when the dryer packed up
on me a few weeks back..

A couple strands from it have unravelled,
an i find it capturing my attention..

Even though my breaths are short,
each time i exhale this little piece of cotton
sways from side to side, asif there is
a breeze in the room..

Bar me talking breeze,
there ain't shit..

Air sometimes sneaks through the cracks in the window,
but not tonight.

My fingers are pressed against the glass,
but don't feel a thing.

None of the leaves on the trees are moving.

Everything is still.

The jail is pretty silent.

Still, I can't sleep.

My window is dirty as hell,
I really should pay someone to clean it..

..I've got a spare tuna under my bed..

Might as well put it to good use instead
of turning it into 'smoked salmon'.

Times like now are difficult for me..

I ask a lot of questions..

I ask MYSELF a lot of questions..

Especially when i don't see something as being
fair, equal or i don't have a proper understanding
of how something has come to be.

At times like now,
i find myself questioning things that at this time of night,
are simply better off left the FUCK alone..

It's too hot..

I'm sweating..

I'm tired..

And i still can't sleep...

just like the constant beads of sweat running down my forehead,
the questions come cascading down..

I can't actually focus on one subject..

With so many floating around,
it's impossible to give my full concentration to anything,
let alone come to some kind of
meaningful, intelligent solution..

Everything and anything is up for critique
in this early morning  sleep deprived exercise in self evaluation..

Wanna know something i think about a lot?

Fatherhood.

I'd like to think i'd make a good dad someday..

But before that familiar road goes any further,
i'm'a knock that shit on the head.

Fast..

Some things are better off left alone.

At least until tomorrow..

Tuesday, 9 August 2011

BB




For fuck sake..

Sometimes,
you just have to laugh.

What other choice do i have?

As long as you look at it the right way,
any situation can be turned into a crease..

I might be sittin' in a stinkin' jail cell,
away from life, civilians and freedom,
but fuck, sometimes it's funny as hell..

Real talk, i don't think i've laughed this much in years..

Everybody knows they ain't goin' nowhere
for the time being, so why not make the most of it?

Of course,
nobody wants to be here.

Nobody wants to be surrounded by pure sausage,
forced to consume rotting dog flesh.

No human being aspires to be treated as live-stock,
but while in this predicament, why not make the most of it?

Whether your time is spent in a shallow puddle of self pity and misery
or learning, growing, maturing and getting yourself physically and mentally
ready for the next chapter in your life,
it's up to you..

Neither path will get you out any quicker,
but one of them will certainly help make
the time easier..

Right now,
we're locked the fuck down..

..Which is dry,
we're supposed to be out, it's getting late and
this is the time when we get to make phone calls,
send emails and do a little evening shmoozing before
getting locked in for the night..

All you can hear is 60+ inmates kicking and punching their doors,
shouting at the top of their voices at the guards..

"OPEN THE DOOR YOU FUCKIN' BUM BITCH!"

"AHHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAAAH!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The guard is running around trying to catch people hurling insults,
shouting back,

"GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP YOU STUPID FUCKS!"

I'm sitting here,
witnessing all this ultra stupid fuckrie with
little interest in participation..

I could be annoyed,
i wanted to take a shower, check my emails
and make a quick phone call..

Or i can sit here,
relax, accept the realistic premisre that we ain't
getting out for shit tonight and continue laughing at the bald,
toothless croan in the opposite cell.

He's voicing his frustration, as usual,
by headbutting the window screaming,

"YOU FUCKIN' BUM BITCH, I WOULDN'T LET YOU
WALK MY FUCKIN' DOG! BITCH!"

My cellie is lying on his bed,
calmly reading a book..

"Yo timdog, 97.7 FM, this that N****R, freaky Teddy Pendergast"



Word.

Sunday, 7 August 2011

Turkish Chops




When i first got to New York,
a contact i had in Seattle introduced me
to one of his boys in Williamsburg,
Brooklyn.

This guy basically showed me the ropes,
was someone to drink with, and in turn,
would use my accent to pick up chicks..

"Yo my boy London just got into town, you girls wanna show him
some American hospitality?"

 We had some drinks at his yard one night,
and i was blessed with the good fortune to be
introduced to his room mate.

A Girl.

A very cute girl.

She'd been to England.

As it happens,
not far from my old ends..

In no time,
i had transformed into the
mayor of Chirpsville Tennesse.

Before i ask for her number,
i'm told we have to leave..

Safe..

As we breeze down the block,
dude turns to me with the Gucci face..

"Yo, i saw what was goin' on in there bro"

"I'm goin' to tell you know bro, she has oral herpes"

"Bollocks!"


Didn't buy it.

Dude was blatantly cock blocking.

..still, what if mans weren't chattin' breeze?

Up until this point,
his credibility had not yet disapeared down
the shitter.

For the time being,
i took his word an put shit on the back burner..

A few months passed..

Things where going really good for me.

I was in the best shape i'd been in since i was a yout,
had a job i really enjoyed, my own yard,
i was actively painting as much as possible,
Shit was sweet as fuck!

What better what to celebrate
my life coming together than taking
a hot chick out for some drinks?

I hit her up,

She's down,

We set a date.
The plan was to link in Williamsburg
and grab a few cheap drinks at the various
dive bars dotted around the place..

Day before we're supposed to link,
she proposes we have a few 'pre-game'
drinks at her spot before we hit the town.

Sounds harmless enough?

Why the fuck not..

I finish work,
after a quick run and a shower
i throw on a new shirt, some jeans an my
still relatively fresh lookin' crepes an duss
out the door..

Bus ride later,
i'm outside girls yard.

I'm also late.

Nothing new..

I'm cotching on the stoop finishing my beer,
an girl appears at the doorway smiling..

She looks fucking amazing.

From the cute way she has done her hair,
the ridiculously buff dress she's flossin',
to the bracelets, bangles an jewellery,
girl had put the effort in.

Looking back,
to think she'd made all that
effort just for my Turkish chops..

Girl came an sat next to me on the stoop,
lit a cigarette an we talked about how both
our days had panned out, while i finished
the last of my brew.

We make our way up to her place.

Thankfully her room mate ain't in the ends tonight..

She gives me a little tour of her room,
we make our way to the living room an she grabs a
bottle off the top of the fridge..




In her soft spoken voice,
she asks me to pour us a couple drinks,
an lights a few candles..

Now.

I've always been extremely naive/stupid when it comes to
clocking when a girl is feelin' me.

For some ulta retarded reason,
i always seem to think 'they're just being nice'.
It wasn't until the following day when i
described the previous evenings fuckrie,
that my freind pointed out,

"Dude. She invited you to her place. Told you to
pour some shots, then lights some candles?
 How motherfuckin' stupid are you holmes?"




A few licks of peach brandy later,
i'm feelin' the funk an we're ready to hit the town..





Arm in arm,
we make slowly make our way a few blocks
down the road..

 I'm flossin' some fresh garms,
i've got a gorgeous chick on my arm, it's summer
and i'm in New York City..

Life was good..

We get to the joint,
grab a booth, pick up some beers, shots,
an site opposite each other.

Most of the time i'm with this girl,
our eyes are locked on one another.

I couldn't help it..

The booze was slowly starting to creep up on me..

Before i left my stinkin' Turkish shithole of a yard,
i had filled up a new bingo marker full of ink.

The more shots i punished,
the more this motherfucker was drummin'
away like i had jumanji in my pocket..

 In my slippery state,
i'm attempting to scan the bar..

Who works here..
 Who is bar staff..
Who is security..

In a few seconds,
ultra slippy, dripped out,
all too familiar letters are
regurgitated all over the table.

Girl looks at me an smiles..

"You've been wanting to do that for, like, half hour right?"



She asks if i mind her
coming to sit next to me.

No problemo.

The evening seemed to be going pretty well..

Hours pass, an i start to get thirsty for a reload.

It's girl's round,
i suggest that she grabs us a couple more
beers an shots.

She replies,

"Why don't you finish my beer first?"

"Err..nah, i'm good. I don't like that type of beer."

She looks at me sideways..

"It's the same beer you've been drinking"

Fuck.

FUCK.

What the fuck to do?

With each minute that passes,
girl is getting more and more suspicous why
i won't drink her beer..

I can't exactly blurt out "Cos i heard u got oral herpes"
and at the same time, even though he was a royal tool,
i wasn't going to throw her room mate under the bus..

The atmosphere is getting beyond uncomfortable,
an i'm running out of time to submit my poorly constructed
excuse to this increasingly upset girl,
 who by the way, just swiftly removed her hand from my leg..

*drum roll*

"I have a germ phobie. I don't drink from other people's glasses"



That was it.

That was the best i could come up with.

Did it work?

Did it fuck.

The night crashed and burned..



We didn't link up for a good few months
down the line.

The next time we did,
it was at some kind of even celebrating
a play she had put together.

I really wanted to go show
my freind some support, an i managed to drag her
Adderol laced room mate along..

We turned up very late..

Very drunk..

So much so,
i completely forgot about
our last linkadges an the
BEYOND sour ending..

So much so,
her room mate offered me his
beer to taste, most likely on purpose,
and without thinking,
i did..

In front of her.

She just looked at me sideways..

"I thought you didn't drink from other people's glasses?!"


Eating is not Cheating

It's way too hot..

It's not good..

I'm cotching here cross-legged on my bed,
 listening to T-pain and Christ Brown..

Why, i do not know..

Climbing onto my solid slab of matress,
i clocked my cellie.

He's lying on his back,
wearing nothing but his boxer shorts,
one hand down fondling his balls..

Singing..




The song finishes, he stops singing,
an tells that he once sang this tune to his wife,
in front of his whole family..

"Timdog, my n****r, trust me, this is one o' them
'Shit she found out i was chating' joints!"

Bless..

I just made some munch.

Nothing epic,
cup of tea an about a thousand crackers
slobbered with peanut butter.

It ain't much, but it'll do..

A hot cup of tea probably wasn't the
wisest of beverages to whip up at almost
midnight..

But as i am a feeble minded individual,
posessing very limited intelligence at the best of times,
i'm happy as a pig in shit,
 sitting here doodling away in a pair of sweaty shorts,
listening to this..





This guy's bars are beyond incredible.

Boasting about how 'when he gets caughts'
by the FEDS,

"WE GON' GET THA BIGGEST CHARGE!"

I'm sitting in a Federal prison, facing Federal charges,
hearing 'Wacka Flocka Flame' dribble pathetically whack
bars about how the FEDS are after him,
 and that this predicament is worthy of boasting about..

Dude..


It's gonna lead to hostages

I am currently being held at MCC.

It's in Manhatton.

Just by Pearl street.

I can see the front of the court
from my shabby, bogey-coated window..

This is a pre-trial facility,
you are held here until your (eventual) conviction..

At that point,
you are dispatched to your designated prison.

They come in different 'levels',
depending on the severity of your crime,
the amount of time you have been allocated
and your criminal history,
or 'rap sheet'.

Camp.

Low.

Medium.

High (penitentiary)

Max

Super-Max.

Most the inmates are heading to a max.

 I sat down with a few of my freinds
who have already done time in different
penitentiaries across the country,
an heard what they had to say..

"I seen a n****r get beat the fuck up for a jelly"



 A dude i work out,
before his first bid thought that he was
ready for a maximum security prison..

"I told my n****r's, yo, i know how to use my knife, it ain't nothin'.."

"they told me, a'ight, you's nice with a blade, but can you wrestle a n****r for 5 minutes for his?"

"After that, i started workin' the fuck out, hard body my n****r"

 Not only are you in a facility were everyone has been
sentanced, so don't give a fuck about their behaviour or record,
but most are facing MAJOR time.

 Others,
are never going home..

"I seen a n****r get slapped cos he asked a n****r 'yo, you watchin' this?'"

"He slapped the shit outta that n****r!"

 Unlike this facility,
once at your designated prison you
can go outside for exercise/recreation everyday..

"If you ain't the creative type, you don' know how to make
knives or stash boxes, you fucked from the get go kid!"

 Before going outside,
you have to pass through a metal detector.

 To combat this,
inmates will have their metal knives for when on their units,
and plexi-glass knives for the yard..

 In Federal Penitentiaries,
knives play a serious part of daily life..

"n****r be forcin' you to BOOF knives kid!"

 Whether it's simply carrying a banger with you at all times,
or having a razor blade hidden in your mouth, you need to be prepared for anything..

 One day M was sitting in his cell,
and his cellie suddenly ran into the room,
throws a knife on the bed, an screams,

"WHA'S UP N****R!

 Without thinking,
M grabs the banger, jumps to his feet,
an gets ready to fight..

His cellie clocks M's reaction an laughs..

"A'ight n****r, i just wanted to see where you was at.."

..M is stuck.

He ain't sure whether this guy is jokin' or not!

His cellie pulls his shirt up..

Revealing a vast array of knives and stabbing weapons..

He dashes them all in a heap onto the bed,
an turns around smiling..

"You gonna kill me or what n****r!"

...

Shake downs..

When the powers that be take it upon themselves
to go through our cells, searching for any type of
contraband or illegal substances..

Its ain't a ting..

A big group of goons run in,
scream at you to get out the cell,
throw you out if needed,
then play Finders Keepers
for a few hours..

Minorisms!

Shake down in a Max?

Different story..

 Without any specific reason,
well, most likely for intimidation purposes,
the guards will come in the dead of night an
tear your cell upside down..

"These n****r's come through an wile the fuck out!"

They come in full riot gear,
complete with shields, bats, tear gas,
tooled the fuck up!

Refusal to comply?




"My n****r, you better have a squad of thorough n****r's
that's ready to go all the way son, cos there ain't no going back!"

These ain't no regular police..

"They got n****r's on top of n****r's! I'm talkin' bout the mother fuckin' poh-leese!"

Man dem roll with body armour, weapons, in numbers..

"I ain't sayin' you can't take em..but n****r..shit...it's gonna lead to hostages..escape..shiiiit!"

Thursday, 4 August 2011

Birthday Beateries

So so..

First birthday in jail..

Good times!

:/

How did i spend it?
 What happened?
Inmates reactions?

Well..

..Most of the day was spent in a medication-induced slumber,
sleeping the day away..

..Didn't tell anyone it was my born date,
so no food or particularly special treatment.

Fuck it..

 I had an extra bag of coffee sitting in my locker
that wasn't gettin' any younger, so after making a
nice cup of tea i swapped it for a little
banana pudding cake..

 Me, this little cake, a medicated hangover
and my cup of tea toasted my 26th birthday in my cell,
to the sounds of Stevie Wonder..




It was grand.

The highlight of the day,
all the super safe emails i recieved wishing
my furry chops a happy birthday!

Much appreciated!

Big-ups to all the London an Australian man dem
reading this bullshit!

Safe!

It's now Tuesday,
an since then i've recieved a LOT of
books, emails and letters in the mail..

Other than my brother from another mother; Josh

most of the books i recieved had no names on..

Haunted,
Thirteen,
A million little pieces,
David Icke - Truth Vibrations,
London Handstyles..

 The last one definitely made my day,
was really cool to see a few familiar faces,
nice one Sadam an Hoover!

 If you sent me an email, Bread,
letter or a book, it was more than appreciated,
Thankyou!

 It was real nice to know there is a few people out
there who was thinking about me on my birthday,
an wanted to let me know.
Thanks again..

Tim
x

ps.
If you sent me one of them books,
bus' an email with your adress on an
i'll have something nice on its way
to you soon..