Sunday, 7 July 2013

This cost six dollars.

It's a Friday afternoon.

I put a white strip of towel i use as a rag soaked in my "Jamaican Fruit" Muslim prayer oil over the air vent in my cell to get it smelling good and try to relax,

My Turkish feet, due to them doing little to no work in their lives, were baby soft before coming to JAIL but now, years of wear/tear/abuse later, they are a patchwork of bruises and dead skin and as i added insult to injury by playing football for hours on end which although has granted me access to the 'All Star Game' happening later this week i am in need of some rest otherwise i have to retire..

A white pillowcase sported a smudged T that i scrawled with a prison biro is sitting on my chair.

Inside it sits some neatly folded khaki trousers, shirts, t-shirts, socks, underwear, sweatpants and other assorted items you can wear in JAIL.

My laundry guy breezed from the unit early yesterday morning and his replacement,

A very loud individual who spends most his day shouting and playing a game that involves flicking the cap off a water bottle into little squares on the floor,

An I was convinced that after hearing this man had taken over laundry duty that i was going to get carried,

There is a certain order to prison,

If you want something done for you it is not uncommon to make a contract, some kind of agreement for a service that is something you need on a weekly or monthly basis for a fee,

Nothing like THAT you TRAMP,

Stuff like getting extra food items that you cannot normally purchase or getting a haircut on a regular basis without individually paying for it or waiting in line, in this case it involves having an individual wash my clothes and deliver them to me, folded, as many times as i like during a two week period,

Four dollars for two weeks of unlimited washes,

Up until this point it was a two week contract renewed each time we go to the store to insure i pay in advance and there is no problems, i drop off sweat clothes/cum ra..i mean socks and he puts them in the washer then dryer then drops them off in a folded manner but the issue at hand is that i paid for a new contract yesterday and am now greeted with a new laundry guy!!


How to handle the situation..

-Do i just assume i have to make a new contract?

-Do i try my luck and see if this dude will honor the former contact?

-Do i kick off if he tries any funny bollocks?

Not only have we not really seen eye to eye up until now but he's not alone, in the smokey room is also a big nosed CLOWN who has a penchant of standing around gassing people up until some bullshit kicks off.

I do not like him.

Anyways i have to do SOMEthing which is either going to be manning up and trying my hand or walking away with my tail between my legs like a chump..

Here goes..

"I have a contact with A* and i just renewed it yesterday  and if you're the new laundry guy are you taking on the old contracts that have been paid?"

Despite the efforts of his moronic sidekick who, after a few moments just standing there staring at me
with this look of unwarranted disgust on his face spat out,

"YEAH but you's RAISED your prices RIGHT scrap?"

New laundry guy actually DID honor the original contract and hasn't asked me for no more bread..

Which is surprising..

Right about now i am laying on my green patterned prayer rug on top of my bed with the door firmly closed and as it's still mid day there's plenty of light coming in through the window so no light on either,

I'm simply laying here drinking some coffee and listening to the radio trying to relax,

What am i listening to?

Since moving to MDC Brooklyn i found a college radio station based in Jersey that plays a lot of music i listened to in the town that isn't played on major radio stations,

Up until coming here the only way i could hear such music was if someone was kind enough to play it through the telephone so it's been really cool to listen to this shit again, they play all kinds of crap, including a lot of requests that you can call in and ask them to play,

An guess what i did earlier today?

It took me a while to get on the phone as there was some Dominican dude with braids having Barney Rubble with his trouble an strife,

I made the international hand gesture for "I'm after you" which is basically twirling your fingers in a circular motion at the person who is last on the phone/computer,

Added the station's number to my "phone list" and waited the fifteen minute validation period before duck walking up to the "jack" stabbing numbers into the silver keys with my shaky arthritic fingers, said my name, then waited neverously as the phone began to beep away..

Why so nervous?

If you have the pleasure of speaking to me and it's a basic phone call, by that i mean as in I'm just calling you internationally,  FIRST off I'm getting INSANELY bumped as it's a dollar a minute  and you really have no excuse for not having a Skype number  as I'd call you more often but SECONDLY the call just goes through as normal,

You (hopefully) answer the phone and we start kickin' it,

If you have the pleasure of speaking to me and you're in America or have done the RIGHT thing and got a Skype number you will hear a little formal introduction by a female robot letting you know that
this is indeed a "pre-paid" call from a Federal Prison and you have the option of pressing five to accept the call or pressing seven to send my ass into oblivion so i can never holler at you again,

BEFORE this all happens though you're actually in for a treat,

You will probably find it very funny,

A recording of "Timothy Guvercin" made by some super pranged out Londoner fresh into prison with the HENCHEST turtle head hanging out his asshole BLATANTLY thinking he's about to get poked or bum raped,

If you don't believe me get a Skype number..

It's SO fucking bate..

Anyhow my point of being nervous is because the person on the other end of the line, as it is a call made to a US number, actually has to ACCEPT the call in order for it to go through and will be alerted to the fact that it's coming from prison,

I'm well aware of this and got extremely well acquainted with this idea during the beginning of my bid from calling people i had hoped wanted to speak to me but in fact did NOT want to speak to me  but being the naive person it took me a few months (years) to clock on,

I mean,

Perhaps there was something wrong with the phone?

I mean,

Maybe they had LOST their phone?

Who wouldn't want to speak to me while I'm banged up abroad in Federal Prison?

A SLEW of motherfucking back-stabbing COCK SMOKERS that i wouldn't let a dog that I've PISSED on piss on THEM.




After a couple of bleeps i hear a brief silence (SOMEONE HAS ANSWERED THE PHONE)
and the automated voice on the other end starts blowing up the spot, running it's jibs about me being in Federal Prison.

I feel light headed as the sound of a quivering Englishman blurts out my name in a manner SO bate that the testosteronein my balls suddenly turns to estrogen.


They press nothing..


No accept OR decline..


It plays again..


I'm staring to get the overwhelming feeling that calling up a college radio show from Federal Prison might not have been the best idea I've had today.

I have several questionable ideas each day.

I'm limited in what i can do and boredom takes you to strange places.

I was looking through a beat up old copy of GQ magazine earlier today and saw an advert for Gap with all these dudes wearing colorful khaki pants.

I started to think they looked good.

"Double You Ess Ohh You?"

I have a few different accents i use. Depending on who I'm talking to and what it's about it makes sense to alter how I'm speaking in order to get what i want.

A very good friend of mine from Ghana taught me this, he gave me the example of how you wouldn't ever speak to your five year old child in the same way you'd speak to your fifteen year old, the five year old would get confused and the fifteen year old would think you're a dick.

Makes sense right?

So baring this in mind I decided NOT to bust out the South London/New York accent that is peppered with a crude mix of pattwa and jailhouse terms like "motherfucker" and "this that an the third" an opt for something a bit more palatable.

As the girl on the line took a while to press five I'm guessing she isn't picturing what i ACTUALLY look like so it makes sense for me to be proceed with caution so she doesn't think she's getting a call from the infamous "mother deer" or "killer black",

"Do you have 'Sucker punch" by Billy Club Sandwich?"

I am put on hold..

Classical music begins to blare down the phone..

I actually listen to some classical music every now and then in the mornings after a workout while i flick through an assorted of magazines and literary titles..

As violins are softly playing along to the humps of a trumpet in my direct line of view i am witnessing a man in his LATE forties with braids slide under a metal gate to rack an arrogantly large amount of milk that is free..

I am kindly informed that the station does not have any Billy Club Sandwich and after a little choking on the mic i glance down at my crumbled piece of paper and see what's next on the list..

"Do you have 'The Truth" by Bulldoze? I think they're from New York or New Jersey if that helps?"

Classical music returns as the dirty man crawls from under the gate, dropping packs of tar-tar sauce from his trousers that were left over from Fishy Friday and are also free..

I am kindly informed that the station does not have any Bulldoze.

I'm getting a little flustered.

Perhaps something a bit more mainstream is needed.

"Do you have any Dying Fetus?"

I am kindly informed that the station does not play Dying Fetus as they are a Catholic University.

Things are not going well for me.

To add insult to injury the female on the other line, despite her patience with the inmate and his retarded requests, seems to be growing amused with the accent, circumstance and complete inability by me to find a song that they can play and i think she may just give up on me.

"How about 'Urban Discipline' by Biohazard?"

She asks me where i am calling from.

For the past few years i have been down people seem to refer to me by the last place i was in New York.

Telling this young lady "LONDON" seemed stupid and "PRISON" although answering my call seemed like an even more stupid reply.

A thank you is exchanged..

A coffee is made..

Turkish feet trample up the stairs and once again rest on a pile of clothes at the end of a heavily soiled prison mattress.

A short while later..

"We have a request from Tim in Brooklyn"

A couple of minutes gurning and singing along pass, the guitar solo finishes and all is quiet again,

ONLY then do i realize just how corny it was of me to request "urban discipline" from a Federal Prison in Brooklyn.

Listen to the lyrics.

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